suedescripture:

From a little Spirky something I have on the back burner.

“Captain.”

He turns, seeing Spock standing at the door of the stall. He turns back to his untangling. “She’s restless,” he says, sniveling against his allergies. “I’d bet hard latinum she’ll deliver tonight, or in the morning, probably before the sun comes up.”

“Indeed?” Spock asks. “You seem to be well acquainted with the husbandry of these animals.”

Jim carefully works a thick knot out of the coarse red strands as the mare whuffles in her hay. “My aunt and uncle bred horses. Quarter horses. I stayed with them for awhile when I was a kid. Before the mass—” he stops, jaw tightening, and regroups. “I used to help, while I was there.”

Spock watches for a moment. “I admit I found them somewhat intimidating on my prior visit. They appear nervous in my presence. I believe my scent is quite foreign to them.”

Jim looks him over for moment. “Come in here.”

Spock lifts the latch, approaching cautiously.

“To the side, like me,” Jim says, “They have a blind spot right in front of their nose. Just make sure she can see you.”

Spock obeys, and Jim retrieves a peppermint from his pocket to drop in his palm. “Flat fingers, let her smell it. It will disguise your scent a bit with something she likes.”

Spock does as directed, and the mare investigates, her ears moving back and forward before her big velvety lips take the candy with hot, moist breath, making a low sound as she crunches through it, tossing her head. Spock pulls his hand away quickly. “Fascinating.”

Jim chuckles, stroking her long nose, eyes soft on Spock.