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Story Notes:

Betaed with grace and wisdom by my friend Athens7.

Dedicated to anon-j-anon, who will (maybe) read, and (maybe maybe) smile, because our voices are so different, but I hope she’ll recognize these guys.

Priorities.
Whose needs come first in any given situation.
This was a problem at the beginning.
Priorities are a problem in relationships of two. With three people involved, belonging to two genders and two species, things can get complicated at an exponential rate.
How did we manage, you ask?
Well, one of us is a touch telepath. One of us is a linguist. One of us fancies himself pretty good at reading non-verbal language.
We had our share of disagreements. Individual values had to be, well, re-evaluated. Different sensitivities must be accounted for.
We found out that a good test for which needs can or cannot be safely postponed is how the postponing makes each one of us feel, not the next day but the next week.
We found out that any one of us is ready to sacrifice for the others on the spur of the moment more than we, as lovers, can collectively stand to.
We are learning our limits. Only then we can learn how to expand them.
Take me, for instance. I am terrified of making mistakes. Not seeing the obvious, or misunderstanding it. Giving the wrong orders, or giving the right ones too soon or too late. Once we all recognized the problem, the both of them began searching for ways to give me input without making me feel inadequate. As for myself, I am trying to learn how to remember at all times that we are a team.
They seem to be the faster students.
Spock suffers, almost physically, when his quarters are messed with. Things must remain where he puts them. His clothes folded just so, the stylus on the desk perfectly parallel to the PADD. It took me a while to understand the reason of his oh-so-subtle frown whenever I picked up a stylus and twirled it in my hand while talking. He worried about where on the desk I would let it fall this time.
I am working on building a habit of putting everything back exactly where it belongs. He is working on trusting me to. He’s even practicing with asymmetrical arrangements of items on his desk, although most of them look to me suspiciously like applications of sectio aurea.
As for Nyota, she knows by heart where everything goes, and picks up after me when I’ve been careless. So I don’t mind occasionally picking up after her when *she*’s been careless.
Nyota can’t stand not being taken seriously. Although she’s perfectly at ease with her own body in every state of dress (or undress), she is annoyed at Starfleet uniforms for female crew because they leave too much of the arms and legs uncovered. “It takes at least four seconds for most humanoid beings to focus on what I’m saying,” she told me once. “Thank God, Spock belongs to the minority.”
I have introduced a policy of optional unisex uniforms for all crewmembers... then I had to introduce a policy of optional unisex hairdressing, to get even with the guys.
The results were surprising.
You should see Scotty’s ponytail.

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