Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.
Special thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom. Check out her latest, "Crossing the Equator" in my faves for Spock/Uhura goodness!

Author's note: This is a rewrite of my story "The Appearance of Impropriety", if chapters 1 – 3 look familiar it's because they are. I'll put a little summary of differences at the end of each chapter though, so you don't have to read the whole thing to notice the changes.

Sorry for the confusion, but the old story just felt like it was going down a rabbit hole. This sticks tightly to the movie script, but with a boy Nyota (Noyoto) and a girl Spock (T'Spock). It's a lot more fun!

Also, THIS STORY IS FINISHED. All I gotta do is post, so don't be afraid of me abandoning it!

Chapter 1

Tapping a finger in agitation, Cadet Noyoto Uhura scanned the crowded bar. No sign of Pike in the Iowa pisshole.

Noyoto was here with a mission: to get aboard the Enterprise when the future fleet flagship was done being built. He'd signed up for the simulation exercise in flyover country for two reasons: for the experience, and to meet Pike, the man on the short list to be the Captain of the flagship. Rumor had it Pike often came out to the local watering hole after exercises to meet cadets. If he did, Noyoto was going to be sure he shook the man's hand and made an impression.

He ran a hand over his almost non-existent hair. Keeping it buzzed short was incredibly practical, but it was a little chilly here in Iowa. Looking down at the menu, his eyes briefly lingered on the local swill, Red Duck Whiskey. He tilted his head. As a man who studied linguistics, human and alien, he had a deep interest in various cultures -and how they extended to alcoholic beverages.

Marking the whiskey he wanted with his finger, he held up a hand to summon the bartender.

"Don't do it," shouted a man a few seats down the bar, leaning over so he could see Noyoto around a big-headed, rigid-browed Xinga alien. "It tastes worse than the water in the pisser."

Noyoto dropped his hand. The guy was obviously a local. He was about Noyoto's age, nearly as tall, but not in a uniform. He was stockier too, not fat, muscular, and just a little heavier set and bulkier in the shoulders than Noyoto was. He might pack a slightly harder punch, but Noyoto would be faster. The guy wore an old leather biker jacket like a second skin. Tousled dirty blond hair hung over eyes noticeably blue even in the bar's dim light. His face looked like it had run into a fist a few too many times. In short, he looked like the kind of man who would know if the local swill tasted like the toilet.

"Thanks," said Noyoto, yelling over the head of the Xinga. "What do you recommend?"

"Stick to the national brands," shouted the stranger. Noyoto noticed the guy's movements and words were just a touch sloppy, like he'd been drinking for a while.

Holding up his hand, Noyoto signaled the bartender and ordered a shot of Jack.

Above the head of the alien, the local shouted, "So how long you boys in town for?"

"Just tonight," Noyoto shouted back, turning to nod at the bartender who placed a shot in front of him.

"What's your..." shouted the man, the last word getting lost in the din of the bar.

"Pardon?" Noyoto shouted back, turning once again to blue-eyed local boy.

"What's your..." shouted the man again. The last word was lost but Noyoto was decent at reading lips.

"Xenolinguistics," he yelled. The local guy probably had no idea what he was talking about, but it was the shortest description of his field and yelling around the Xinga was making him hoarse.

And was apparently making the Xinga annoyed. With a grunt the alien got up and moved to another corner of the bar.

Sliding up to Noyoto, the local said, "The study of alien languages, syntax, phonology and morphology."

Impressed that the guy seemed a smidgen brighter than he looked but not about to show it, Noyoto downed his shot. "Yep. You might say I have a talented tongue."

"I might," said the local. He smiled and held out a hand, "The name's Kirk."

Taking the proffered hand Noyoto said, "Uhura."

A movement at the entrance caught Noyoto's eye. He blinked. A familiar figure was walking towards the bar. Her posture was ramrod straight, her face pale, beautiful with full lips and dark eyes under straight bangs; but she was completely expressionless. Her short haircut was full and thick, delicately pointed ears just barely peeking out from beneath. The fitted instructor's uniform she wore accentuated full breasts, a neat waist and long legs.

"Well, hello," said Kirk under his breath. "Who is that...And can you teach me any Vulcan pick-up lines?"

"That," said Noyoto, "is Lieutenant Commander T'Spock. She is the director of my assistantship, and I will under no circumstance teach you any pick-up lines."

"You work with her?" said Kirk.

Noyoto nodded, eyes still on T'Spock. She didn't seem to have seen him. Instead she made her way to a corner of the bar and pulled out her comm. What was she doing here? She hadn't told Noyoto she was coming on this exercise. Of course, he hadn't brought up the matter with her either. They'd barely spoken a word beyond work since he'd begun working with her nearly a year ago. Oh, once she'd invited him out to dinner to thank him for his hard work in her lab, but it had been under the duress of her commanding officer. Said officer was convinced Noyoto would quit like the rest of T'Spock's assistants if T'Spock didn't make nice. Noyoto had politely declined the offer. She was a Vulcan. He didn't expect her to be friendly. Those other assistants who couldn't wrap their heads around that, well, that was their loss.

T'Spock was fair, and generous in her own cold way, even if she was demanding. She'd allowed Noyoto to present with her at a conference they attended the previous semester, and included his name on her papers.

"Man," said Kirk watching her, "if you're not hitting that, you're gay or insane or both."

"Director of my assistantship," said Noyoto, signaling the bartender. "I don't shit where I eat."

"Hmmpf," said Kirk in a voice that did not disguise his disbelief. "Don't tell me you don't think about it."

Actually, Noyoto did think about it. Quite a lot. But all he did was scowl in reply.

T'Spock was strictly off limits. He wasn't afraid of a challenge, but he needed the assistantship. Both to pad his resume and to prove a certain arrogant prick of a history of artificial transmissions professor wrong.

There was a Romulan talking in that 20th century radio recording, and Noyoto's research with T'Spock was going to prove it. Even if T'Spock didn't think so.

And he needed to get aboard the Enterprise when he graduated, and Hell, he just needed to graduate. Having an older brother who was practically a pirate made Noyoto feel an extra burden to do right, fly straight, and be the best. Getting into mischief with a superior officer was not acceptable. No matter how enticing...

Another movement at the entrance of the bar caught Noyoto's eye. A group of locals entered - large, a little bit older, clad in biker clothes and with an air of ownership about them. If Kirk was rough around the edges, they were just rough.

Scowling briefly at the new patrons, Kirk turned back to Noyoto. "Come on, just a few pick-up lines?"

"No," said Noyoto.

"Even just hello?"

"No."

Countering Kirk's attempts to learn snippets of Vulcan, Noyoto almost missed it when one of the rough looking guys went over to T'Spock. Noyoto swirled his drink in his glass. His jaw clenched. Wasn't any of his business.

Kirk followed his gaze. "Uh-oh," he said.

"Uh-oh?" said Noyoto.

"Wilkes and his gang are Xeno Nazis," said Kirk, picking up his drink and moving in T'Spock's direction. T'Spock was now turning her head and speaking to Wilkes, her beautiful face perfectly neutral.

Wilkes did not look happy, but he moved closer to T'Spock.

Uh-oh, indeed. Whatever he felt or did not feel for T'Spock, a large Xeno Nazi encroaching on a woman was just wrong. Noyoto passed Kirk in quick steps.

"You're a fucking alien!" said Wilkes.

"Hey," said Noyoto, going to the far side of T'Spock. "None of that." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kirk sipping a drink, looking at Wilkes over the edge of his glass.

"Shut-up, flyboy!" said Wilkes. "Guys like you are ruining it for us humans!"

Wilkes' crew was lining up behind him; Noyoto counted five. A few other locals were making their way over from across the bar. So far his fellow cadets seemed oblivious to what was going on. Across the room he caught sight of Giotto and a couple other would-be redshirts laughing amongst themselves.

"Easy, Wilkes," said Kirk.

Noyoto lifted an eyebrow. Kirk was either noble, drunk...or both.

"Maybe you can't count," Wilkes said. "There's six of us and only two of you, Jim Kirk."

Giving a quirky smile half smile that was not going to cool any tempers, Kirk said, "Well, then get six more and it will be a fair fight."

Okay. Kirk was definitely drunk.

Noyoto was about to point out his fellow cadets in the bar numbered as many as Wilkes' crew when T'Spock spoke.

"Three of us," she said standing up between Noyoto and Kirk. She was nearly as tall as the two of them, but thinner, more fragile. "There are three of us."

"Three of you?" Wilkes sneered a bit and turned to look at his companions. Looking back to T'Spock, he raised a hand as though to cup her chin. "You think that pretty little face of yours -"

Noyoto intercepted the hand at the wrist. The thought of this ignorant, ugly human touching her just rubbed him the wrong way.

Ripping his wrist away, Wilkes said, "Well, I see how it is. This is your little whore then, eh?"

Noyoto felt himself go hot; he pulled his fist back. Wilkes lunged forward, but before Noyoto had the satisfaction of connecting his fist with the other man's jaw, a blur of white and black was between them. A hand was at Wilkes' shoulder, and then he was on the floor moaning.

Noyoto stared at the ground.

"Oh," said Kirk.

Noyoto met the other man's eyes. Looking confused, Kirk said, "What was that?"

Noyoto shrugged. He didn't know.

"Nerve pinch," said T'Spock, standing above the still-moaning Xeno Nazi. And then Noyoto's composed, calm, controlled, lovely director of his assistantship did something completely unexpected. Raising her hands she took up a stance that clearly said to all those present, bring it on.

And that is when things got really fucked up.

x x x x

"You are a whore. Just like your human mother."

T'Spock stared at Desalvic, the Vulcan boy before her. Flanked by four other Vulcan boys, he looked to be about her own age or maybe a year older. She'd seen him before at school but did not associate with him. Like her, Desalvic and the other boys were in their dark school robes. But they were not at school. It was early evening and they were outside, between the towering red beehive buildings on the narrow streets of Shi'Kahr.

She had been called a whore and more many times before in her thirteen years. Whore. Illogical. Half-breed. Selfish. Unbonded. But usually by females, and always indirectly. T'Spock did have a few friends, mostly other unbonded girls, but in general she was shunned. It was a quiet thing. A whisper here or there that she could almost pretend she hadn't heard...if it weren't for the fact that she was so often quietly excluded. Despite her grades it was difficult to find study partners. She was the one not invited when a family hosted a learning activity. She intellectualized these slights away, but this...

She was actually afraid. They were larger and stronger than she was.

For months she missed the mental presence of her half-brother Sybok, although she carefully tried to school her mind not to. Now she felt acutely the lack of his physical presence, he'd always protected her…

She resisted a shudder. But that was before he had fallen under the influence of the V'tosh katur.

She shouldn't be afraid, should she? Among her mother's people, humans, and the V'tosh katur violence happened. But these were logicalVulcans. Even if she were outnumbered...Even if...she scanned the empty street quickly...they were alone.

"You are unbonded," he said. He nodded. His skin was flushed green. One of his hands tapped nervously at his side.

"Come, Desalvic," said a boy she recognized from school. "We must go. Leave her alone."

Desalvic shook his head, eyes glued to T'Spock. "You are unbonded. You will do. I need," he said.

Murmuring, the other boys pulled back. T'Spock heard one whisper to another, "What do we do?"

Fear was an emotion, and T'Spock refused to show it. Squaring her shoulders, she pretended Desalvic wasn't taller and stronger than her. Holding up her head she began to walk around the boys.

That was a mistake.

Rushing with a low cry, Desalvic reached towards her. T'Spock ducked and feinted to the left, but he caught her wrist and reeled her in towards him. His other hand went to her psi-points and he began mumbling the familiar incantation, but his mind, greedy and hungry, had already slipped into T'Spock's.

She could feel his need. His disdain for her. For himself.

It was horrible; T'Spock's stomach turned and she fought the urge to vomit. And yet, through her disgust she realized she was safer now with their minds linked. Although physically weaker she was the stronger telepath. With a scream she lashed out at his intrusive presence; her mind seized the deepest, most primitive parts within him, the ones that let his heart pump and let his lungs seize oxygen.

His hand and his mind withdrew and he stumbled backwards. He fell gasping to the ground. Standing above him, T'Spock trembled and considered finishing the job. As if responding to her thought, Desalvic's body contracted and he gasped.

Coming forward, one of the boys said, "T'Spock, are you alright? Please, we will call a healer for you."

A snarl like the sound of an angry sehlat arose...it took T'Spock an instant to realize it was coming from her.

"Desalvic did not mean it," said another.

The boys stood between her and where she wanted to go. Tightening her lips she shoved her way between them. Desalvic began moaning on the ground. T'Spock did not turn to look. Head held high, she marched down the narrow street. No one followed.

As soon as she turned the corner and was sure she was out of eyesight, she ran.

She didn't stop until she was home. Her mother, Amanda, was at the door. "T'Spock, what happened? Your father felt something through the bond -"

Without answering, T'Spock dropped her PADDs and went up the stairs two at a time.

"T'Spock," her mother called. "Please talk to me..."

T'Spock did not want to talk, and she resented her mother's entreaties. To talk of the event was to relive it. She wanted to purge herself of the experience, to throw up or slip out of her skin. She went to the sanitary cubicle, stripped off her clothes, and got into the sonic shower. Outside, her mother knocked at the door a few times and then there was silence.

The memory of Desalvic was so fresh and raw in her mind. His lingering disdain was more frightening than his need.

His disdain for what she was. Half-human. Unbonded - a selfish one.

The first she could not help. The second. She violently shook her head and thumped a hand against the wall.

Once she asked her mother why she was unbonded. Her mother laughed and said,

"Because I don't believe in it. You're half human and deserve to choose who you bond with. There is no biologic imperative for you." She'd winked at T'Spock and said, "And because your father will never believe anyone is good enough for his little girl."

As she had grown older she'd realized that although the first reason was completely honest, the second reason was a bit of evasion. It wasn't that there was no one good enough for T'Spock - it was that the boys put forward were not good enough. Even though she was as bright as any Vulcan, and a strong telepath, only parents with children in desperate circumstances would consider her. Their sons were barely telepathic - and likely to be especially violent in Pon Farr, or they were simpleminded - or both.

Her father turned all those potential matches down. The elder females in the family insisted that T'Spock's value as a potential partner would increase with age as she became more accomplished and as males lost their partners to sickness or accident. In such circumstances she was sure her father would accept a match.

Her father. The boy was obviously undergoing Pon Farr. It was rare for Vulcans her age, but not unheard of.

Her father...she took a deep breath.

She was closer to Sarek than she was to Amanda. T'Spock didn't have much in common with her mother. T'Spock wasn't the sweet, human daughter interested in fashion, music or romance stories she was sure her mother wanted. And T'Spock had so much trouble with human niceties, inquiring as to an individual's well being (T'Spock really didn't want to know), or pretending to be interested in one of Amanda's friend's baby pictures. Amanda had even gone so far as to call T'Spock thoughtless on one occasion - though she'd apologized later.

Sarek said T'Spock had Amanda's openness to new ideas, flexibility of thought, and resistance to 'group think' most Vulcans did not possess. But T'Spock saw more of her father in herself, even if her lips quirked accidentally to half smiles now and then, and her eyebrows had a tendency to dance on her forehead when she was surprised or intrigued. Her interests were more like Sarek's. She loved mathematics, and physics, chess, and music - worlds with clearly delineated rules. She enjoyed learning about new planets and life forms as much as her mother, but T'Spock's interests, like Sarek's, went deeper into the chemistry, physiology and microbiology of these things.

Her father, whom she loved and was closer to anyone else...he turned into...

She swallowed. Taking deep breaths, she surveyed her mind. The memory of the experience was still with her, but as much as it made her stomach drop, and her pulse quicken, Desalvic had not caused any lasting bond.

Closing her eyes she let the sonic shower buffet her for no less than 38.7 minutes.

When she got out of the shower she could hear her mother speaking to her great-aunt in the study. "The answer is still no," she heard her mother say.

Slipping a robe over herself, T'Spock walked slowly down the hall.

T'Samick, T'Spock's great-aunt by marriage, said, "Although she did not bond with him, when she attacked him..."

"Defended herself," T'Spock heard her mother say.

"She left a piece of herself in him," said T'Samick.

T'Spock dared to peek into the study. Her mother was standing before a large screen displaying T'Samick in ornate robes.

T'Spock blinked. Her father stood beside her mother, too. Her mother's hands were on her hips, her face was pinched, and T'Spock could hear her breathing heavily. Her father's face was its usual perfect mask of calm, but through the familial bond she felt a turmoil of emotions. Anger. Despair. Shame. Towards her? T'Samick? T'Spock could not tell.

Despite those emotions, when he spoke, his voice was controlled, almost flat. "You will need a healer in any case," he said.

The familial bond between T'Spock and Sarek was unusually strong; they could almost, but not quite, communicate in words. Only her bond with Sybok had been stronger – but that was severed.

Now, although Sarek did not turn she felt him realize her presence, and almost in the same instant she felt him compel her to stay back.

"Desalvic is from a wealthy and powerful family," T'Samick said. "If we were to accept him as part of our clan it would completely make up for Sybok's defection to the V'tosh ka'tur."

"No," said T'Spock's mother. Sometimes Amanda's refusal to go along with Vulcan customs embarrassed T'Spock, but now she was grateful.

"You are not Vulcan and do not understand our ways, Amanda." Turning her eyes to Sarek, T'Samick said, "Sarek, what do you say?"

T'Spock held her breath.

As Ambassador, Sarek was as dedicated to protecting his people as he was to upholding their traditions. He was extremely logical and possessed self-control T'Spock could only dream of. The only way in which Sarek had ever wavered from Vulcan custom was in his choosing Amanda as a spouse, and some accommodations he made to her in order to ensure a harmonious marriage. He'd made sure T'Spock participated in the kahs-wan survival ritual when she was six years old. He would have seen her bonded, too, if her prospects weren't so dim as a young child.

It was a Vulcan woman's duty to protect males from the ravages of Pon Farr. Perhaps he found her behavior illogical - maybe that was a reason for his shame. Perhaps he would insist on a bonding and all that would entail.

"In this matter my wife and I are of one mind," said Sarek. T'Spock exhaled audibly in relief.

Her father must have heard, but he did not turn away from her aunt on the view screen.

T'Samick said nothing for 3.5 seconds. T'Spock held her breath.

Then the old woman tilted her head. "Sarek, do not let what happened with T'Yavi influence your decision."

Feeling a rush of shame across the familial bond, T'Spock blinked. What did this have to do with Sybok's mother? T'Yavi had renounced logic and become V'tosh ka'tur after ending her bond to Sarek, and later died at the V'tosh ka'tur settlement. Sybok himself had joined the settlement when he was 21. Sarek, T'Spock and Amanda seldom spoke of him. Once Sybok had been T'Spock's closest confidant and friend, but after what he said to Amanda, what he'd accused Sarek of –

Shaking her head T'Spock focused on the present.

Amanda had dropped her hands from her hips and now had two fingers pressed against Sarek's own. Standing rigid Sarek said, "The boy needs and deserves an older woman with experience."

Her great-aunt sucked in a loud breath and drew herself up. "Very well." The screen went black.

Amanda immediately spun around. A moment later she was wrapping her arms around T'Spock. "T'Spock, T'Spock," she murmured. "I am so sorry, I am so sorry."

It was the sort of confusing, illogical, human thing her mother would say. "I am unhurt." T'Spock said. She lightly touched her mother's elbows to reassure her, just as her father often did in similar circumstances. Although she didn't mind her mother's displays of affection when they were in private, responding always felt awkward.

Her mother pulled back a bit, hands still on T'Spock's shoulders. For the first time T'Spock saw the glisten of unshed tears in her mother's eyes.

T'Spock wanted to bring her hands up to her mother's and transmit reassurance through the empathic link that would result. But the memory of Desalvic's mind in hers still left her feeling unsteady and nauseous.

Her mother shook her head silently and then embraced T'Spock fully again.

"You defended yourself well," said Sarek.

Shamefully, T'Spock could not meet his eyes. Seeing Desalvic in his altered state was like seeing a little piece of her father she didn't want to know.

Sarek must have felt it. She felt a flash of despair that made her heart sink from the normal place in her side to somewhere just above her hip.

Bowing his head, Sarek moved silently around T'Spock and her mother.

"Father," T'Spock called as he stepped into the hall.

Sarek stopped.

She wanted to say something, let him know that she still loved him - especially after protecting her from her aunt's designs. But that was not the Vulcan way. Or even her way. Such words caught in her throat, and now she felt too distraught to transmit anything consoling through the family bond. But something needed to be said. Still not meeting his gaze, T'Spock said, "Father, I would like to resume my studies of suus mahna." T'Spock had given up her practice of the traditional martial arts long ago. But now - she wouldn't let herself be physically or mentally assaulted again.

"Of course," said Sarek. And then he headed down the hall, leaving T'Spock alone with her mother.

x x x x

With a cry, one of the other Xeno Nazis launched himself at T'Spock. In some part of

Noyoto's brain it registered that T'Spock could handle herself. Another more primitive part of his brain yelled, "He's going to attack a girl! Asshole." Grabbing the guy's arm,

Noyoto spun him around and decked him squarely beneath the jaw.

As the man tumbled backwards, Kirk yelled, "Oh, yeah! It's on!"

The next few moments were a blur. The whole bar erupted, with Noyoto, Kirk and

T'Spock at the eye of the storm. Noyoto's heart sort of fell. This was not going to be good for his record. But then a fist came in the direction of his face and he lost thought of anything except not going down right now.

Noyoto was dimly aware of T'Spock, eerily quiet, a blur of fists. On the other side of her was Kirk maniacally laughing and goading the other guys on, still impossibly holding a drink in one hand. Noyoto caught a glimpse of Kirk taking a long swig and spraying a fine mist into someone's eyes. At that moment someone tried to grab Noyoto's neck from behind. Tucking in his chin just in time to spare his wind pipe, he heaved the guy over his shoulder.

When he came up for air it was to see Giotto wading through the fray, knocking guys left and right. Dodging a fist, he lost sight of the large security officer. And then he heard,

"Hey, Cupcake, I'm on your side!" Spinning around, he watched helplessly as Giotto planted a fist into Kirk's face. Kirk flew backwards onto the bar.

"Giotto!" yelled Noyoto, ripping off his jacket. "He's with us."

Impossibly Giotto heard Noyoto. Looking a bit bashful, he turned to the prone Kirk. Noyoto read his lips as he said, "I am so, so, so, sorry."

"Look out behind you!" yelled Kirk as a guy launched himself at Giotto from behind.

As the big security officer turned, Noyoto yelled, "Kirk, catch!" and threw him his jacket from across the room.

Kirk caught it. Nyoto turned back into the fray just in time to watch T'Spock head butt a guy's head. There was a sickening crack...and not from T'Spock.

Something exploded with a crack and there was the sound of breaking glass. The local in front of him looked behind Noyoto towards the bar. Said local's eyes got wide, he dropped the chair, and bolted.

Uh-oh.

Another explosion ripped through the bar. Daring to peek behind him, Noyoto saw the bartender brandishing an antique shotgun.

The bar went silent. Fists dropped. Next to him T'Spock straightened. Kirk started laughing.

"That's enough!" shouted the bartender. "And you shut up, Kirk."

Grabbing a shot someone had abandoned at the bar and knocking it down in one gulp,

Kirk stumbled over to Noyoto and T'Spock. "You guys are awesome. What are you doing in Starfleet?"

And then he promptly fainted at T'Spock's feet. T'Spock touched the local's shoulder, now clad in a crimson coat, gingerly with a toe. "That is your jacket, cadet?"

Before Noyoto could comment on the matter, a high-pitched seaman's whistle pierced the air.

Noyoto's stomach fell, and in Ferengi he said, "Green gobs of mildewy earwax."

"Cadet," said T'Spock, "may I remind you of Starfleet's strict rules and regulations regarding profanity?"

Noyoto's mouth fell open. Turning to her, he tried to determine if she was making some sort of sick joke. She met his eyes and tilted her head, beautiful features as composed as ever. Granted, he had just uttered the worst expletive of the Ferengi language, but in the Standard translation it was so benign - and after he'd just put his record at risk during a fight for her honor. Brow furrowing he was about to say, "In light of our impending court martial for getting in a bar brawl, that hardly seems to matter, Sir."

But before he could get the words out, the voice of Captain Pike rang out across the room.

"What the Hell?"

A/N:

I think this chapter flows better than in the original, I tried to smooth it out and get rid of any extra words.

Big differences…Sarek and T'Spock's relationship is shown to be deeper, she's closer to him than she is to Amanda (hey, it happens!). Sybok is mentioned as being a very close confidant.

If you read and enjoyed I would love some reviews!