Jim was still curious about Spock though and he realized he actually knew very little about Spock other than him being into elves from Tolkien.

“Do you speak Elvish?”

This time he saw Spock’s spine stiffen. He did not turn back around though.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Elvish. I mean, there are a lot of people into fandoms that learn to speak the language of the characters, right, and I know there are a bunch of people who speak that from the Tolkien books. So I thought given your ears, you might—”

Spock did turn around then, and he was waving the spatula he held somewhat threateningly. “I do not speak Elvish, Jim. And I did not have my ears altered to be pointed on the end.”

“No?”

“My ears have been like this from the moment I was born,” Spock said slowly and carefully as though Jim was a buffoon. And at the moment Jim thought maybe he was.

“Oh. Um. Sorry about that. Stupid assumptions.”

Jim could only imagine the teasing Spock must have had from other kids because of his ears. He knew kids could be cruel from his own experience with severe acne.

“Your apology is accepted. If you will go sit at the table, I will shortly bring the waffles to the table.”

Jim did, feeling pretty foolish. Spock had set the table with butter and syrup too. He kept his mouth shut and drank his coffee.

A few minutes later, Spock arrived with two plates with large Belgian Waffles.

Jim smiled uncertainly. “Looks good. Thank you.”

They ate in silence for the most part. Other than a few comments about whether they’d get the rain that was predicted for the next morning.

When they were done and Jim was assured Spock needed no help cleaning up, Jim decided to excuse himself to his own place. He really was tired and a bit discouraged, though he wasn’t sure why. Spock was still polite and nice to him.

“Do not forget your Bisquick.” Spock handed it to him as Jim picked up his empty thermos.

He sort of remembered Spock had mentioned him coming for dinner Monday night but as he headed for Spock’s apartment door, Spock made no comments to remind him, and Jim didn’t want to push his luck.

Still he lingered for a moment there, hoping Spock would come close enough for Jim to try a little kiss. But Spock kept his distance and somehow made it look as though it really wasn’t deliberate.

“Okay, thanks for dinner, Spock. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jim.”

Jim went back to his apartment and basically straight to bed. And in that bed, he stroked himself to images of Spock, and afterward he fell into a fitful sleep.