AUTHOR'S NOTE: _IMPORTANT_ Hey guys! This is my first Star Trek fanfic so this is all new to me. I completely fell in love with the Star Trek movies (2009-2013) and I absolutely LOVE Spock and I wanted to go ahead and make my own romance story with a OC. So for details here, Nyota will have a somewhat romance with Spock in my story, there will be small indications of them being together but it won't be a huge deal since Spock will fall for my OC.

Anyways, this takes place after Star Trek Into Darkness, kinda in between the year that takes rebuilding the Enterprise and Jim getting back on his feet for the 5 year journey they are going to take and from there onwards. Also, this story will be simply DRABBLES, there will be a plot to follow. This is mostly like a Prologue, but yeah. I LOVE writing drabbles and I really enjoy them and thus to get a hang of the whole Star Trek universe, I'll go ahead and do what I feel I do best and that's drabbles. I hope you enjoy this story as much I enjoy writing. Please let me know what you think and maybe things I should work on. Thanks again and please review! Enjoy!

REVISED 4/11/14


"But all I ever wanted
Was for you to look at me
As if you were the night sky
And I was your only star."
- C.P

#One Night

The storm shattered the silence of the earth, the pitter-pat rain was quickly replaced with a deluge, harsh droplets. Pedestrains, who had just minutes before, walked sedately down the streets, now fought with inverted umbrellas and ran for cover in nearby shops and doorways. Wind blew, lightning made the sky glow, and the rain fell with needle-like precision.


Dahlia was surprised to see him standing on the sidewalk, completely calm as the rain fell over his unsheltered form. He turned his contemplations away from the brick pattern building, blinking wearily at her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, hugging her rain coat more securely around her thin form, her eyes wide and wondering. "I didn't know you were back. I thought you were arriving until three days from now."

"I was," he simply answered. There was an edge to his tone.

"Spock," she said cautiously, eyeing the swaying of his body. "Are you okay?"

Dahlia had become concerned as she noticed how his body slightly swayed from side to side while his gaze seemed unfocused. The oddity of seeing the normally staid, reserved Spock like this only made her more concerned as she wondered what on earth could have made him this way.

"Come on, you have a lot of explaining to do. And I can't let Jim see you like this. Oh, the joy that bastard would have on seeing you in this state," Dahlia said, as she steared Spock to follow her down the sidewalk and back to his quarters. He did not even try to question the meaning behind her statement.

After arriving, they stumbled inside and she helped him sit on a chair by the table. "Lights, twenty percent. Heat, normal." She's slightly surprised at the strength and authority his voice contained in his state. It was deep and controlled.

Growing warm from the heat inside that was such a contrast to the weather outside, she unbuttoned her coat and noticed that he was doing the same.

"Here, let me go get a cup of water," she said and quickly made her way toward his neatly clean kitchen.

As she walked back toward him, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen, she gazed toward him sitting pensively at the table. He still was soaked to the skin and bedraggled from the downpour outside. But to her, he was no less beautiful for it. Physically, yes, he was beautiful. But it went deeper than the hue of his bones, the fairness of his skin, or the curve of skin over muscle.

It always had for her.

But she had realized it too late. He had at one point, accidentally on her part, made it clear of his affections for her. But at the time, she had not been able to reciprocate his need for her. It had taken her awhile to realize her immense mistake, her lack of understanding. She did love him. She had tried to convince him of it, but he was withdrawn, unable to accept her sudden change.

She was too late.

As if knowing her eyes were on him, he turned toward her and stared at her warily. He was seeking her presence again, and that was what mattered.

She walked toward him and handed him the glass of water. He accepted it, his fingers moving away from hers, not seeking to touch her skin with his. Instead of drinking the water, he set it down on the table carefully.

When her eyes trailed over his features, she was startled to notice a slight cut just above his right brow. Without realizing it, she stepped in closer between his legs. "Holy shit, how did you cut yourself? Does it hurt?"

He said nothing, instead remained silent. He sat there patiently while she grabbed a napkin and dabbed it lightly over his wound. She knew she was overreacting for such a small cut, but he didn't complain. Not even that she was far too close.

Upon realizing that she was invading his personal space, she muttered, "I need to get going then." He'd closed his eyes as she finished up, and now he blinked them open slowly, but he nodded to show her he'd heard. Before she could turn to grab her coat, she felt his large hands at her sides, stilling her.

Startled, she looked down at him, but he was too busy wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning forward. He rested his brow between her breasts, his breath warm against her belly through the cotton of her shirt. She stood there frozen for a moment before she shook it off, moving her own arms around him. She threaded her fingers through his damp hair, combing through it gently.

She tried to treasure this moment as much as she could, or as long as he would let her. She knew it was a matter of time before he realized his behavior, his gestures and retreated back, ashamed at his actions and withdrawing himself in the dark corners of his mind, and become the emotionless, calculating, aloof Commander everyone knew.

They stayed like that for some time, neither saying a word. Finally he drew away and she tried not to show her disappointment. She held her breath, waiting to see if this would be a repeat of last time, where he'd effectively shut down. But he didn't give any indication of embarrassment. Perhaps that would come when he was feeling more lucid, or even further down the road, but for the time being, he simply whispered his gratitude.

When he stood up, he slightly wavered and she reached for him. Though it was in the back of her mind to resist, she helped him toward his bedroom. She helped him to lay down and in the process, she found half of her upper body resting beside him on the bed. She made no move to pull away.

She watched as his eyes closed and his breath even. The quiet settled around her. She felt the warmth he provided without even touching him.

She noticed how his hair had finally dried, and she smiled to herself, knowing that it would be its usual perfection in the morning. She reached out and haltingly, tentatively brushed the hair on his forehead. She was just drawing her hand back when something changed. She couldn't say how she could tell, but even in the darkness, she knew he'd opened his eyes.

Oh shit, she snatched her hand away, burying it under the covers. As if he wouldn't have felt the air moving by his face. But then something astounding happened. Something that she would later recall again and again, but still not believe. Spock, who made not a single sound, not even after she gasped lightly, began edging toward her.

She could only see his shadow moving in the darkness and at first she thought he was just shifting to get more comfortable. But then his body bumped into hers and his hands reached for her. Unsure of what she should do, she watched him carefully.

Lightning lit up the bedroom, momentarily bathing everything in white light, making his soft brown eyes almost black. She could hear tree branches groaning in the wind. She could hear the dull roar of heavy rain. And she could hear their quiet breathing.

He then began lightly tracing his fingertips up across her arm. When he reached her shoulder, he nudged the collar of her shirt out of the way so his fingers could dip into the hollow above her collarbone. It felt as if that lightning outside, which flashed with more and more urgency, had hit her. His hand slid up and around to cup the back of her neck, his thumb and forefinger stroking little shocks on her skin.

Her breath began to hitch just a little at his ministrations, but she was too shocked to try to even it out. The rustling of the sheets was nothing to the storm, but as he came even closer to her, she would swear that the rasp of his skin on the cotton was deafening.

As soon as he was pressed flush up against her, he did nothing more. She noticed his breath was as unsteady as hers. She could feel each inhalation, his hard stomach and chest pressing to hers more insistently as he pulled air in. Impasse. that was what it felt like to her. Despite their proximity, despite his exhaled breaths dancing across her lips, she felt that old familiar uncertainty lurking.

Was he silently offering her ...something ...or was he drawing up short because this was his limit? And if she asked these things aloud, would it break the spell that seemed to hang around the air between them?

She needn't have worried, because, with a shudder, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes slid closed, the mad lightning flashing through the thin cloak of her lids. As she flicked her tongue against his lips, asking him to open his mouth for her, she could feel the electricity from the storm dancing along her nerve endings.

As their mouths opened to each other, both of them gasping for air, her fingers wove into his soft hair. As he rolled onto his back, pulling her half on top of him, her own hair fell over them, tickling their cheeks as they continued to kiss desperately.

She felt him slide his hands under the back of her shirt, his palms and fingers smoothing up her soft skin until they were cupping her shoulder blades. She pulled back just enough for his wrists to catch the shirt's hem. He gathered her intent and let her back out of the garment as she did for his. They both hadn't even tossed each other's shirts to the ground by the bed before she was pushing herself back flushed against him, moaning as their skin met.

He sucked in a startled puff of air so much warm, soft flesh touching his, but he only tightened his arms around her. His mouth wandered from hers, down to her jaw, and further on to her neck. With the tip of his tongue, he traced the line and dips of her throat, every now and then pressing soft kisses to her skin as she all but hummed with her joy and arousal.

Though she wasn't sure what to do, he obviously did and she trusted him implicitly with every fiber of her being as she felt that, at this moment, this was all so very right and she didn't want to turn back.

Suddenly, though, he moved his head and everything tilted as he flipped them over so that she now lay beneath him. They watched each other as they fought to catch their breaths.


Long afterwards, when the haze of pleasure faded, he hovered above her. She reached for him, to lay next to her.

At first he struggled, and she could see self-recrimination trying to creep its way into him. So she reared up slightly, kissing him again on the lips, before she lay back down, tugging him with her. He seemed to come to a decision and let her pull him to her, sliding his much larger body down, so that his forehead once again rested between her breast, his breath fitting across her stomach, cooling her heated skin.

"It will be wise for you to leave my quarters," he murmured, saying the first articulate words between the two of them in hours, before kissing her skin again. She hmmed in slight agreement before amending, "Not yet. You are not well."

"You do not need to trouble yourself in keeping me company. I find myself being more than capable of proceeding suitably," he insisted. She reached down and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. She could feel him trying to withdraw from her, his mind building up walls for her not to pass. In the distant she could feel the emotions he was trying to hide.

"I will stay," she said simply.

Thunder sounded, the wind roared, lightning flashed, and he did not argue.