Archive of Our Own ^beta

Boys will be Bugs.

The insect crawled onto a nearby stone, flexing it's polychromatic wings in the sun. Spock, abandoning his book, leaned in to get a better view of the creature.

"What are you doing?" Sybok's voice came from behind him.

"I'm observing the local wildlife."

"And that wildlife is..?"

"A Vulcan water-beetle." Spock tilted his head, calculating the facts. "It's a juvenile, most likely 2.5 weeks old."

"Is that so?" Sybok asked, unusually interested.

"Yes, if it wasn't I wouldn't have told you?"

Sybok chuckled "it's a human manner, Spock, you say when someone tells you a fact."

Spock frowned at that. It will always allude him why Sybok, a Vulcan, used human expressions.

"Can you tell me anything else?"

"Yes," He replied "from the shape of the wings you can...—" Spock continued to list facts and details about the bug as Sybok listen silently.

. . .

Today was not a very pleasant day for Spock. Now, most days weren't very pleasant for him in general. His half human nature, that his classmates loved to remind him of, was to blame for that.

This day was eceptionably unpleasant.

Stonn— One of Spock's fellow classmates and the learning center. Had cornered him in the hallway and gave Spock a rather thorough verbal beating.

"Half-breed freak"

They had pushed him to the ground and continued their beratings

"You're a Terran Spock."

How he hated that word. Terran. It had only brought shame and pain to him. Sure, his blood was green and his ears were pointed but he would never be truly Vulcan. No matter how much he pretended to be.

So he sat in his room, reading. Books were always something he could turn to in solitude. It was Shakespeare's Sonnet 29, an old 17th century earth literature.

"I, all alone, beweep my outcast state."

A knock on his door interupted him. He responded with a "Enter." And he hated how soft his voice came out.

The door open to reveal Sybok, who had a small smile on his face and was hiding his hands behind his back.

"Hello Sybok."

"Hi Spock, how was your day." He asked making his way beside him.

"It was.. adequate."

Sybok smile faded and was replaced with a small frown at his reply. 

"So rough day?"

Spock didn't respond he just looked back to his book. 

"And look upon myself and curse my fate."

"I made you something."

Spock turned his head towards Sybok. "You were not required to give me anything." He said tilting his head slightly. In a very human gesture he thought bitterly.

"No, I'm not. But I want to."

"May I ask what it is?"

Sybok removed his hands from behind his back and placed it on the desk to reveal a small, home-made wooden beetle.

A Vulcan water-beetle to be exact.

It's shell was painted with a mix of blues and silvers and purple in an attempt to replicate it's reflective nature. It was also a fairly large model, being about the size of his palm.

"I saw how fascinated you were with the one you saw a while back and, I don't know.."

Spock continued to stare at the model insect. The book lying abounded as he silently admired Sybok's craftsmanship.

"Haply I think on thee, and then my state, (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;"

"If— if you don't like it that's fine, I can have it if—" Sybok was cut off by Spock placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It is, more, than exemplary, thank you, Sybok." He said gently.

"Anytime Spock." Sybok replied with a very human-like and a very warm smile.

They sat there for a while in silence. Quietly enjoying each other's company. The truth is that Spock and Sybok both don't fit in on Vulcan. 

But in his room, with Sybok and that beetle figure. Spock had never belonged as much as he did then.

"For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings."