I just wanted to say that I was not expecting such a positive reaction to my first story, so thank you VERY very much everyone!
This takes place the morning after Chapter 1, and is just a little fluff. I wasn't sure if I should post this or just leave Chapter 1 as a one-shot, but since I wrote it I figured what the heck – if anybody gets any enjoyment out of it then my job is done =)
He woke before she did, noting that sometime during the night she must have relieved him of his blue Starfleet shirt. Although it was always pristine and perfectly pressed, it was not entirely comfortable to sleep in. "No," he thought to himself, glancing down at her sleeping form, "this is much better."
She was sprawled across him haphazardly, and yet even like this he could only describe her as graceful. Her head, and her hair along with it, rested on his chest, her expression peaceful. He could feel her arms wrapped around his waist, and the thought crossed his mind that she might desire something physically more from him. Spock had never before felt self-conscious about anything other than his ears and eyes, the distinctive Vulcan and human qualities that immediately announced what he was, and what he wasn't. And yet, lying there without anything other than Nyota covering the top half of his body, his mind flashed to student conversations he had overheard in the hallways of the Academy. Words like 'six-pack' and 'ripped' seemed to cause excitement in female students. He wondered if Nyota would desire this in him as well. He knew that he was by all accounts physically fit, excelling in this aspect of his training along with all others. However, he did not believe that with what he possessed, he could 'wash clothes on those abs' as he had once heard a particularly loud green-skinned cadet once exclaim. What a ridiculous notion when there were washing machines perfectly suited for that job. No, his Nyota was nothing like that he assured himself.
Glancing down at her once more, he remembered her actions last night, and, almost hesitantly, lifted his arm from where it lay beside him and placed it upon her back. As he mimicked what she had done, stroking her back up and down her spine through the nightgown she wore, he sighed softly. Though his action could serve no logical purpose, seeing as how she was asleep and wouldn't know either way, he felt strangely comforted by it, a feeling he could not explain.
As he continued his attentions to her back, his pointed ears picked up a difference in her breathing patterns. It was quite evident to him that she was now awake, so why did she feign sleep? Was she ashamed? Embarrassed? Spock hoped not – didn't she realize that without her last night, he would most likely be catatonic by now, or perhaps still lying to himself, believing that if people worked admirably everything would be okay?
He couldn't stop himself from satisfying what he could only describe as his human curiosity. "Nyota," he stated with some confusion, "it is obvious that you are awake. Why do you pretend otherwise?" He went to move his hand when she opened her eyes, and stared into his
"So you wouldn't do that," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
His hand stopped in mid-air, and he looked at it questioningly, and then back at her, uncertain if he had understood her correctly. She smiled and nodded, moving up his body until she was able to give him a good-morning kiss. Replacing his hand on the small of her back, and moving the other to join it, he held her to him, thinking, "as long as she wants me, I'm hers." Little did he know that the woman lying on top of him was thinking the very same thing.
"Spock," she mumbled into his shoulder, "how long can you stay?" The logical answer would've been 47 minutes until he needed to go back to his quarters and get ready for duty. Somehow though, he didn't think this was the type of answer she was looking for.
"Forever, Nyota," he murmured, knowing that he never wanted to leave.