Title: Illogically Primal
Summary: A sweet rendition of how things led to the moment on the bridge to the even sweeter moments afterwards.
Disclaimer: I don't own them
The first time that Spock had noticed Nyoto Uhura, she did not necessarily notice him. To her, he was her professor and nothing more. Little did Spock know was that Uhura never paid this close attention to any other professor. Sitting in his front row was the young woman of small stature, a petite and lean physique, and magnificently attentive eyes. Her small red uniform made her an ensign, a cadet and nothing more. Spock kept it in the back of his mind that Cadet Uhura was nothing more than another name on his roster and would be treated as such. It didn't help, though, that she excelled at every assignment he passed out, aced all of her previous courses, and asked the most in-depth, well-rounded questions during his class. She obviously meant business.
She came from a black mother and a white father—now a common mixed race that was no longer referred to as mulatto or creamed coffee. Since the 21st century, finding a human pure bred was almost impossible. Filipinos were mixing with Middle Easterners; Hispanics with Samoans; Indians with the Brits; Blacks with the Whites. Race was no longer a matter, nor was religion. Family traditions were more tolerant, but that's not to say first impressions with the in-laws weren't difficult. If someone wanted to be racist, they'd have to look beyond the stars for new intolerance.
Spock was a mix—but rather two different species, not just a race or two added in. Genetically, Vulcans were 99.87% similar to that of humans: a few differences being in appearance, strength, and their blood which runs a beautiful emerald green. Having his father mate with a female human for the good of diplomacy was logical; Sarek had learned many human traditions, values, and ethics from Amanda Grayson. He also learned that humans are emotionally handicapped, violently destructive, and overall intellectually petty creatures. That's not to say that he didn't love Amanda wholly—he loved her the only way that he knew: to provide and to protect. Sarek hadn't intended to have a racially-challenged son, but that is what the universe gave him.
Vulcans were seen as an intellectual prize on Earth. If they were on Earth to help the Terrans, they were fully cherished and provided for. A Vulcan can beat any Earthling on any IQ test and show no pride for it. A Vulcan can defeat any Earthling in hand-to-hand combat and show no sympathy for them. A Vulcan can teach any Earthling quantum physics, advanced linguistics, and teleportal schematics and show no loathing for the students who decided to sleep during their lectures.
"Cadet Kirk," Spock said with an authoritative tone which held no annoyance; this time a little louder to startle the sleeping student halfway out of his chair, "Cadet Kirk, would you please prepare yourself more dutifully by getting a full rest elsewhere before my lecture?"
James T. Kirk looked around, embarrassed at first, then settled in crookedly in his desk, smirking, "But your lectures are so soothingly boring, that I can't help myself from dozing off through what's it called, Conjugated Romulan Linguistics? Sounds like counting sheep to me." This got a giggle out of the class. This is when Spock noticed Uhura. She was not laughing, nor looked delighted to even be seated next to the smart-ass Kirk. Her lips were pursed and her pencil was flicking rapidly on her desk. With a long-held sigh from her, the bell rang, ending the lecture.
Before Spock could reply to his unruly student, he announced to the fleeing cadets, "Don't forget to read chapters three and four, Present Conjugations and Literal Verbs, respectively. I shouldn't have to remind you that the midterm is next Thursday." His students passed, some giving him good tidings for the weekend and others asking him quick questions about the previous readings. Uhura was slowly packing up and made her way towards his desk as the last student finished conversing with him.
"Hello Commander, I'm Cadet Uhura," she held her palm reader close to her chest and stood perfectly straight—something to admire, "I had a question about independent study. I did a study last semester with Professor Krewson and she suggested that I move on to Advanced Vulcan—but the class wasn't offered this semester," Spock tried his best to watch her eyes politely as she spoke, but her mouth formed such beautiful shapes as she pronounced every syllable perfectly giving away that she was a linguistics major. "And I rather much get it from a true Vulcan than the Adrinian professor that favors complicated examples over preferable conversation."
"Well, I would not say that I am a true Vulcan. I am rather a half-human, half-Vulcan. With that in mind, would you still prefer the independent study?"
"Oh, half-human? I couldn't tell." She took this moment to search quickly, but couldn't tell the difference.
"Most people cannot. They say that it is in my eyes."
Uhura took a moment to lock gazes with him. It was then that she realized his eyes gave away everything he was feeling, something a Vulcan was never supposed to do. She couldn't help but search more from her place across his desk. His eyebrows were predominately Vulcan, sharp, broad, and dark; his ears were a perfect curve shooting up into a textbook point; his hair was flawlessly cut and groomed, cutting his forehead with its horizon. And his lips—Uhura's gaze stayed on them a moment too long, because his tongue slowly came out to wet his lower lip—his thick, parted, unspoiled lips. With that her eyes darted back up to his, where he quickly glanced away to pack up his lingering belongings, "If you follow me to my office, I'll gladly go over my schedule with you to see where I can put you in. You can also fill out a permit to request credit for the independent study while you're there." With that he was already making quick hast out of the lecture hall and down the tall corridors towards the Linguistics Departments' wing of offices. Uhura was by his side the whole time, conversing as they brushed by other students.
"If I may speak freely Commander?"
"I welcome it."
"I couldn't believe the Academy didn't have Advanced Vulcan offered this semester since they have their very own Vulcan here, already teaching. I mean, it's not like you wouldn't be able to handle another course. I've already checked out your schedule online and it looked like you had Wednesday and Friday evenings off and I thought that since you have no classes then…" she trailed off. They were already in his office and he was scrolling through his desk files—the screen the actual desk—as Uhura spoke, far from ignoring her. She dutifully placed her bag in a chair on her side of the desk Instead of staying on the appropriate side of Spock's desk, though—the side with the visitor's couch on the wall and the students' chairs in front—she made a quick move to stand directly to his side, peering over his shoulder to see his availability. It was an entirely inappropriate move considering that Spock could now smell her, lavender, milled soap and woman, and feel her body actually emitting heat. She touched the pad on the next coming Wednesday, "See here, I can meet with you at 6:30. After the mess hall serves dinner." She was slightly leaned forward now, reading through his personal things on the screen; her soft neck just a few inches away from Spock's gaze. "And that same week, the Friday there," she pointed, but Spock wasn't looking, "I can meet with you at 8." She turned slightly, too close for his comfort, smiling to herself, "I can't meet right after dinner. That's the only time I have to use the pool. I've already worked something out with the lifeguards there to let me in so late." She turned and put her weight back casually on the desk; Spock having not moved an inch since she invaded his space, "It's nice though, I get the pool all to myself and get to completely zone out from a long week." Spock wanted to cut her off, telling her to retreat to the other side of the desk…but he couldn't lose his curiosity over how close she thought she was allowed to be.
"Sounds," Spock's voice cracked, and he attempted to clear his throat before starting again, "sounds nice. I could maybe even join you beforehand and after we could go through the true Vulcan conversation you are looking for."
"Yes, Wednesday. You can meet me here at 6:30."
"Great!" Uhura made her way back to the other side of the desk, bending slightly to pick up her belongings. Spock's gaze quickly went to the upper thighs that were briefly exposed in her uniform skirt, then back up to her eyes.
Spock pulled up a file on his desk and a stylus that was tucked away in a neat drawer, "Cadet Uhura, if you could sign the Independent Study Form 1-B, please."
She signed it quickly, bag over her shoulder, and made her way to the door, "Thank you Commander."
"You are welcome Cadet Uhura," he said, although he did not return her smile as she left, but gave her a curt nod instead. Once his door slowly shut behind her, he sat at the edge of his desk chair, back as straight as ever, and folded his hands on the desk, completely confused on how to feel.
These were new feelings, feelings which weren't supposed to be expressed; but it rather bothered him because he couldn't recall from all of his studies of human emotion on what this feeling was actually called. He walked smartly back to his wing in the dormitories and the automated door shut softly behind him. Spock washed up for the evening and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, perplexed. He found himself breathing a little bit faster than usual, thinking of his moments with Cadet Uhura in his office. Having just six days before their first study session together bothered Spock—and he didn't know why. He wanted it to be sooner.
As Uhura lay in bed that evening, she smiled to herself as she recalled stepping over the boundaries with Professor Spock. He was beautifully perfect and she was curious to know more about being half-Vulcan, half-human.