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Inappropriate Workplace Behaviour >> Spock X Reader

Title: Inappropriate Workplace Behaviour

Paring: Spock X Reader

Warnings: racism, xenophobia (that means fear or repulsion to aliens), minor hate speech to aliens

Spoilers: no, none

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You were born a human, and on a Tuesday. Spock was born part human, part Vulcan, on a Thursday. Yet, even though you shared the birth date January 6th, three years apart, and both had human heritage, and liked to sit in silence beside each other, a warm cup of tea in hand, people seemed to look at the both of you like you were most defiantly polar opposites. Maybe it was because Mr. Spock was the lead science officer on the USS Enterprise. Maybe it was because you were the second in command to Mr. Sulu as pilot.

You didn't know.

But what you did know, was everyone displayed inappropriate workplace behaviour -- to the both of you.

"What's it like being with him?" Uhura asked over coffee on break. "I mean, when Spock and I were a thing, it wasn't as deep as you two, we didn't get into...you know," she lowered her voice, "bed."

You blanch. It was bad enough people were quite xenophobic about Spock's heritage and habits, but asking point blank about your sex life? What were you, a gossiping young adult stranded in space surrounded by the same people day after day? Maybe. But your private life behind the doors of yours and your boyfriend's room stayed behind there.

"Um, Uhura, I don't really -," you stammer.

Her eyes widen. "You don't have sex at all?" she nearly screeches.

Your faces is aflame with embarrassment, and all the many stares from other officers and staff surrounding the pair of you in the break room. It isn't until you convince her that yes, you do, that the general conversation of the crowd returns and your heartbeat ceases the insane race it broke into.

"Green-blooded hobgoblin," McCoy grits out.

Your eyes widen, frown furrowing. "Dr McCoy, if you would please -," you bite your tongue to stop yourself reprimanding a higher officer, and add, "Don't say things like that about my partner around me."

He raises a brow, but doesn't question it. He doesn't bring the slur up again, either.

As a landing party went down to trade with a friendly planet, the crew were left watching the screens and coms half-heartedly, occupying the next hour in whatever way they could. You knew down on another part of the ship, someone was playing music, and that Mr. Scott snuck a nap in when there was a non-lethal landing party. 

In the bridge, Mr. Sulu and Spock balanced a board game on the panels, and were in an almost equally-matched round, one or two moves away from ending the game. You had been watching them the entire time, albeit keeping an eye on Kirk on the screen to make sure nothing went awry. 

"I can never get those damn games," someone from the side entrance to the bridge, someone without clearance to enter, moans, "Must be because you two are ... different enough for that kind of thing."

Sulu's glare burns the offending speaker where he stands. "Officer, may I remind you that the USS Enterprise is not tolerant of that kind of racism," he grits out. "State the business you have here and go on your way."

Spock glances to the man at the entrance, and slowly, you move to stand before Spock, almost as if to shield him from the hate speech. "Officer?" you prompt. 

The man shakes his head, and goes to leave. "Never mind."

Pavel Chekov, the adorable young officer was aiding Mr. Spock in moving the manual files from one office to another after a small incident (someone, meaing Captain Kirk, set fire to the old office by accident) when a passing red shirt fell onto him, spilling the files. Pavel's eyes were wide, and threatening to cry for not doing his job competently. While you bent to help pick the files up, Mr. Spock stood, watching.

"Don't you feel sympathy for the kid?" the red shirt curtly accused. "Do you feel anything?" He shouted.

Your hands gather the rest of the files, and pick up Chekov before the red shirt can do more harm. "He feels emotions just as much as you do, officer. Now, if you'll excuse us, we will be on our way." You huff.

It's a rare night off where everyone is drinking their choice poison and sitting around the rec room. It was the Captain's choice to play disco music, a genre you weren't adverse to, but found a tad too happy for your taste. While everyone was drinking Earth alcohol, you sat beside Spock, sharing a cup of sparkling water.

"I'll bet they didn't have these types of social events on Vulcan," Captain Kirk's voice is slurred, eyes hooded. He couldn't have drunk that much already, but he has. "This is probably like a rave for you, Spock."

You go to protest, but a hand holds you back. Spock's grip is not so tight to be uncomfortable, but the difference in sobriety between the captain and first mate was startling, and woke you from the trance of the disco music.

"Your comments, while observations, are not orthodox or welcome," Spock states. His voice is even, tone wavering a little. "In fact, I know you not to be a xenophobe, but your choice of words were."

Kirk stares, his jaw falling, the playful look he always carried in his eyes fading. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," he swallows, and adding, glances to you. "Does this happen often?"

In near synchronicity, your heads nod.

The next morning, you wake to the voice of Captain Kirk in your room. Though it isn't a rare occurrence, seeing as he often came for many assortments of talks with your boyfriend, what strikes you as odd is Spock's form beside you. You wake enough to see the projection screen lit up with Kirk's face. 

"...it has come to my attention that we are not excising proper workplace behaviour on board the USS Enterprise. And while we all know we have a job aboard the ship, this is no place for formalities to turn sour." His gaze turns grave, and taking a deep breath, he adds, "Remember, no matter the nationality, race or gender, planet of origin, we are all united under Starfleet to do our job, searching space."

Beside you, Spock stirs. 

"You should have woken me, I would have slept through it," he grumbles. "What is Captain Kirk talking about today?"

A small smile takes your lips, and slipping back under the sheets, you place your head in the crook of his neck. "He's apologising for all the things people have said," you whisper.

He puffs air, a short laugh. "That means we don't have to get up yet?" he asks.

"They owe it to us," you grin, kissing his neck.