Author: T'Bitch (kiwisama@yahoo.com)

Series: TOS

Rating: G

Codes: S/Mc

Word count: 626

Summary: An answer to the dare, "Write an S/Mc that begins 'The lights were low and the music was loud, and still he was oblivious.'"

Comment: Finally an answer to that bloody dare. This was originally what I had planned to write before I got started on another one that Janet has read part of. I found this on my harddrive tonight and thought it was good, so here we go. :)cheers, T'Bitch

This makes two in one night. I'm on a pretty good roll here, sort of.

***

The lights were low and the music was loud, and still he was oblivious.

Spock frowned. This was not the reaction he had been expecting. He pushed a button on the remote and a different song came on, this one from the opera Carmen. Not a twitch.

"Good lord Spock, I can hear that music from clear down the block. What on earth are you up to?"

The Vulcan did not look up. "I am testing a hypothesis. Look."

McCoy looked. His mate's attention was focused on the small white kitten he and Saavik had brought back from their walk the other night. It had been a surprise, opening the door to admit two wet and shivering Vulcans who had stayed out in the rain to coax an orphaned kitten out from under some bushes.

"His ears aren't twitching."

Spock nodded. "I believe he is deaf."

"Well I'll be..." McCoy scooped up the small feline from where he was curled in an armchair by the fireplace and placed him on the table. The cat yawned hugely, baring sharp teeth, then curled up again, undisturbed by the whirr of the medical tricorder.

"He hasn't got a choclea," the doctor reported a moment later. "Must be a birth defect. It's not uncommon in blue-eyed, white cats."

"Can he be repaired?"

"Probably, when he's a bit older. But I don't know if it would really be good for him...I mean, his brain won't be adjusted to processing sounds. His other senses will probably increase to compensate, too. And if he lives as a house cat, it shouldn't make that much difference. Cats don't come when you call them anyway."

Spock gave a small snort that in a Vulcan passed for laughter. 'Well I'll be,' Len added to himself, a Vulcan with an irrational attachment to an alley cat.

"Have you decided on a name for him yet?"

"Indeed."

There was a pause. "Well, what is it?"

"You wished to know? I thought you were merely inquiring as to whether or not I had reached a decision."

"Spock..."

 "Ludwig."

McCoy laughed. "That's great."

The cat stood at this point and stretched, then jumped down to the floor and curled up in front of the fireplace again.

"Spock, we have to get ready for Saavik's presentation."

The Vulcan nodded and turned away from his study of the feline. "I was just thinking...Had Saavik and I not stopped to help, he would have died in all likelihood."

"Not from a little rain."

"No, but deafness does not seem to be advantageous for hunting. Such a cat would no doubt face a vastly abridged lifespan in the wild."

"Yes." Len took a couple steps towards the guest bedroom, then realized Spock wasn't following.

"Spock?"

"It is similar in some ways to when I adopted Saavik." His eyebrows twitched in thought. "And in the way you tried to help me find my way among humans when we first met."

"I wasn't as gentle as all that."

"You were, however, most helpful."

"Well..." he paused. It had started to rain again, typical for Oregon weather, and he savored the sound of it on the roof. "Some of us just can't help taking in strays."