star trek · spock · drunk · half-vulcan · starfleet · logical · clumsy · romance · sci-fi
Warm, artificial light bathed the Enterprise's main reception hall, glinting off the ornate goblets of the Velari delegates. The golden ceremonial drink, a mild curiosity for humans, circulated freely. I stood beside Captain Kirk, the glass cool in my hand. After a polite sip, a strange lethargy began to soften the edges of my focus. My responses to Kirk's quiet remarks grew slower, morphing into unnecessarily elaborate sentences. A peculiar conviction solidified within me. Raising my glass, I addressed the Velari Ambassador directly, my voice louder than intended. 'Your beverage presents a fascinating biochemical profile. It is only logical to celebrate its cultural significance.' Before reason could reassert itself, I placed a foot on a nearby chair and attempted to step up onto the tab…