FIC : Out of the Lines (Star Trek XI ; Spock/Uhura, Uhura/Gaila-ish, PG-13)
can i even tell you how much i love this icon, and that i have a fic appropriate to use it with? :D
Title : Out of the Lines
Fandom : Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing : Uhura, Gaila, Spock, Chapel, OFC, brief cameos by Kirk and McCoy; mostly gen, some Spock/Uhura and Uhura/Gaila
Rating : PG-13
Warnings : none
Word Count : 9698
Summary : They teach a lot at Starfleet Academy, but some of the most important things Nyota learns are about herself.
A/Ns : guys you guys, i wrote a fic with absolutely no mention of kirk/spock. now stand amazed. :D this is for trekreversebang, for morlockiness's fantastic art which is just behind the cut. i saw the sketch and immediately envisioned a scene with uhura and gaila in a bar, and got to thinking about their life at the academy, and exploring how their relationship might have started and how it might have changed over time. don't ask me how spock ended up in there; bastard just won't leave me alone. ;) sekala was an awesome beta, and the title is from dar williams.
---
---
Every morning, Nyota goes running.
When she was younger she'd learned the joy of it, the beauty of speed and the feel of the wind on her face, and she had learned to love the bare horizon, the sun rising huge above the trees that squatted close to the red earth, the mountain wreathed in fog. It was a solace-- relying on her feet, her lungs, her legs propelling her, every step moving her away from one thing and toward another. She got where she was going under her own power, and when she ran she felt she could get anywhere, do anything.
San Francisco is different from everywhere she's ever lived. Wetter, cooler, the ocean taste on the air, trees like skyscrapers and sun-whitened sand, all as strange as discovering the surface of a new planet. She loves it fiercely for everything it holds and everything it's shown her, but it's still something of a marvel after two years, a place she's not sure will ever really feel like home.
The room's still quiet when she gets back from her run, and she downs the rest of her water and collapses into the chair in front of her comm unit, dialing without looking either at the number pad, or at the dim outlines of the room behind her.
"Hi, Mama," she says with a smile as the screen suddenly becomes a window, giving her a view on a small kitchen with yellow tiles, sunlight streaming in the window.
"It's not Sunday, honey, what's up?" Her mother's eyebrows draw together and Nyota rolls her eyes, grinning.
"Did you think I wasn't going to remember?" she teases.
"Well, a woman can hope," her mother replies dryly with a similar expression. "You think I want more reminders how old I'm getting?"
"I think you want to know I haven't forgotten you just because I'm across the continent," she counters. "How's Bibi?"
"Crazy as ever," says her mother with a shrug. "Convinced you're going to jet off into space and get yourself blown up, as usual. I try to explain what you're actually doing over there, she doesn't quite understand."
Behind her, Nyota can hear Gaila shift, the sleepy murmur that means she's waking up. She forces herself not to turn in the direction of the sound. "Will you still be able to come to my presentation next month?"
"I hope so. If Kishera can come stay with her, you know I will. But you know how she is about being left alone."
Nyota nods, trying not to feel disappointment before it's due. "Alright, mama. I've got to get ready for class, but I love you. Have a happy birthday."
"Bless you, girl. Oh, before I forget, how's that class? That Beta Quadrant Linguistics or whatever it is, with that professor you were so excited about? Still as awesome as you thought at first?"
She can't help a grin, and prays her mother doesn't see the blush. "Advanced Beta Quadrant Linguistic Patterns with Professor Spock. Definitely more awesome than I expected. I'll tell you more about it later, okay?"
"Okay, okay. Go do your thing. Love you."
"Love you too, mama. Miss you." She switches off and half turns in her chair as Gaila sits up, rubbing her eyes.
"It's early," she says, and Nyota nods.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's alright." Gaila stands, clearly expecting Nyota to be as oblivious to her nakedness as she is, and stretches. Nyota turns back to the screen, but her eyes follow the dim outline of Gaila's shape as she walks toward the bathroom.
She doesn't even realize she got cut in line for the shower until she hears the water start.
---
She's later for class than she wants to be-- which is to say, two minutes early instead of fifteen. He's already there when she comes in and drops into her seat-- right at the front, of course-- hoping no one's noticed the slip in her obsessive punctuality. Today of all days, she thinks with an inward sigh, and for the tenth time resists the urge to write down a script for the conversation she means to have later.
When she looks up from getting her padd out of her bag, though, it's to find Commander Spock's eyes on hers, that indecipherable eyebrow quirked. Don't grimace, for God's sakes don't blush, Nyota wills internally, and after a split second lets her face relax into a smile, one that threatens to grow when he nods his head in return. You are such a girl, she scolds herself, but it doesn't stop the smile lingering on her face as the lecture begins.
At the end of class the bell rings, and as people are packing up their stuff, she forces her nerves to calm the hell down. It's not presumptive, just suck it up and ask, she tells herself, and approaches Commander Spock at his desk.
"Cadet Uhura," he says, tapping something out on his padd before looking up, his eyes fixing on hers with interested directness.
"Commander, I wondered if I might have a word," she says, refusing to let herself fidget with her padd. Stop being such a fangirl, she says to herself. Be professional. You're fucking brilliant and he's had you in class for three months so he knows that. Just because he's even more brilliant and his mother is Amanda Grayson doesn't mean anything. She'll remind herself later that it would probably work better if she tried to tell herself things she actually had a prayer of believing.
"I have another engagement in ten minutes," he says, standing, "but if you are not opposed to joining me on my walk, we can speak on the way."
Nyota tries not to laugh at the idea she'd turn him down, just slings her bag over her shoulder and falls into step beside him as he starts up the stairs. "I've been looking at the courses for next term, and I've asked Commander Poller about signing up for the Advanced Syntactical and Morphological Theory course."
Spock nods, cutting easily through the throng of students outside the lecture hall and pushing open the door of the building. Outside it is cool and sunny, a perfect afternoon. "I am aware of your intent," says Spock as he leads them across the green to the Science building. "It is a commendable goal for a second-year student."
Nyota spends a fraction of a second wondering how in God's name he knows that when she only asked Poller about it three days ago, then quickly remembers her manners and says, "Thank you for saying so, sir. However, Commander Poller implied that while my ability to keep up with the pace of the class was not in doubt, my knowledge base for the breadth of subjects being covered does have some gaps."
"Indeed," Spock says, somewhat thoughtful. "I would imagine your proficience in morphology would make you an excellent addition to the class," and she doesn't, doesn't get a flutter in her stomach at the compliment, "yet it contains a component of examining the syntax of many dialects to which you have not yet been exposed. The Remus subcontinent dialect of Vulcan, for example, and both minor dialects of the Romulan language."
"Exactly," she agrees, gearing up for the actual request portion of this conversation. "And I was hoping-- wondering, rather, if you might recommend how best to go about familiarizing myself with those dialects in the time between now and the beginning of next term."
Spock doesn't answer right away and for a moment there's just the sound of their boots on the sidewalk. For a few heartbeats Nyota wonders if she's said something wrong. But then he stops and turns toward her, his eyes dark and curious, and something warm curls in her stomach; something unsettled at the focus in his gaze, but welcoming the feeling, even inviting it.
"You are aware the easiest way to learn a language is to immerse yourself in it," he says, "and as I am fluent in both dialects of Vulcan and familiar with all three dialects of Romulan, I would be remiss if I did not volunteer myself as an adequate tutor."
She clenches her jaw to keep it from dropping in disbelief-- did he actually just--? But then as if he's unaware of what a gift the offer is, Spock continues, "Nevak's primer to the Romulan dialects will suffice, and if you are amenable I will endeavor to supplement Styrr and T'Bara's text on the Remus subcontinent dialect with conversation."
For a second it's too much information to process, and Nyota almost feels dizzy. He really did just offer-- and in all three-- and conversation-- oh my God, the first complete thought she's able to form, did he just refer to himself as an adequate tutor? She could laugh; that'd be like the kid prodigy in the astrophysics department getting an offer to be tutored by Einstein and calling it adequate.
The clock tower begins to chime and she abruptly realizes she hasn't answered, and the silence is starting to stretch. "Commander, I'd be honored," she says, snapping a razor-sharp salute. "Thank you very much for the generous offer."
Spock nods, half shifts as if to walk on, then pauses, his gaze lingering on hers, that thoughtful look that's had her sitting in rapt attention at the front of his class for the past three months. "You are welcome, Cadet," he says. "I will message you when I am free to meet. Good afternoon."
He starts up the stairs to go into the building, and after he's gone Nyota gives in to the urge to do a double victory fist-pump, letting her head drop back and a grin spread unrestrained over her face. Then she composes herself, straightens her jacket, and starts walking back the way she came. Only two classes left between her and the weekend, and now that all the nervous energy has drained out of her, she's starting to feel like it can't come fast enough.
---
At the bar that night Nyota grabs the table first, but T'Lira is so close behind her Nyota's surprised they didn't bump into each other in the doorway. "How are you?" she asks in Vulcan. She's nearly fluent now, but Vulcan is a language you can always get better at (especially when you're going to be conversing in it with your brilliant and terribly attractive professor twice a week) and lucky for her T'Lira doesn't mind helping her practice.
"I am well," the Vulcan girl says with a fractional smile. "And thee?"
Nyota grins; she forgets sometimes, that they're close enough for the informality. "Very well. Grateful for the weekend."
And isn't she just. She's about to elaborate on all the things that were so trying and thrilling about her week, when a peal of laughter rises over the loud murmur of conversation. Nyota turns unconsciously, automatically, to see Gaila with one arm around Hikaru Sulu and the other around a curvaceous cadet from Engineering track, all of them in an uproar over the bartender juggling what appear to be flaming shot glasses.
She turns back to T'Lira, feeling her rueful annoyance showing on her face. "I suppose that indicates I should not plan on sleeping in my own room tonight," she says in resignation as Christine drops her bag onto the chair beside Nyota's.
"You can quit talking in languages I can't speak now, girls," she says by way of greeting, shrugging off her jacket and reaching into her bag for a clip to twist up her hair. "Unless you want to hear the nitty gritty of the Tellarite appendectomy I just scrubbed in on, that is."
T'Lira's lip curls in faint disgust. "As I have just eaten dinner, I would prefer descriptions of organs not enter our conversation."
"My point exactly," says Christine with a grin. "So I'm the rotten egg, that means first round's on me. What are we drinking?"
Nyota grins. "Anything, as long as it's strong. And grab some fries while you're at it, I could eat a horse. Hey, is your roommate still away at that conference tonight?"
Christine gets a wrinkle between her eyebrows. "Yeah, why?" Nyota just nods up to the bar, where Gaila's hand is now in the Engineering cadet's back pocket. Chris looks, and Nyota can see the shift of her shoulders as she laughs a little. "Say no more," she says wryly over her shoulder, and vanishes up toward the bar.
"Rotten egg?" T'Lira asks in the ensuing quiet, and Nyota gives a tired smile.
"Yeah, as in, you snooze you lose," she says, and tries not to watch as Gaila leans in to press her mouth to Sulu's with a teasing grin and a sparkle in her eye.
---
She'd been overwhelmed at first. Most people were, she figured. Gaila wasn't like anyone else.
Nyota had used to think being friends would be easier if they didn't live together. Or if they didn't always share at least one of their classes. Or, you know, if they weren't both inhabiting the same city. Gaila was just so much-- louder, brighter, wilder, more of everything than anyone Nyota had ever known, and she didn't know how to make such a person fit into her life.
Nyota's life has always been careful-- carefully structured, carefully ordered, and she's very careful about who she lets into it. Gaila ignored these, and all other boundaries that Nyota or anyone might have up. It's what made her and Jim Kirk such good friends (and how unsurprised Nyota had been to discover it). They both have that innate ability to hear someone tell them No and reply instictively, Just try and stop me. She hadn't cared that Nyota was wary of the chaos Gaila might cause just by being near her. She'd simply decided they were going to be friends-- and, shockingly, they were.
It was sort of inevitable. Almost immediately after meeting her, Nyota had felt like Gaila could find her, would find her wherever she was, always just as she was starting to forget about her. It was an uncanny talent she had; something to do with how every room was darker once she'd gone out of it, and every conversation lacking until her laugh appeared to make it sparkle. It wasn't like she thought she was better than everyone, or better than anyone. She just didn't know how not to enjoy life, and genuinely wanted to make other people enjoy it with her.
Nyota's been strangely fascinated by Gaila since day one. She doesn't understand her, but she's going to do everything her not-inconsiderable brain can think of to try. Though she doesn't understand her own attachment, Christine always has. She's seen and understood the weird balance struck between uptight Nyota and her free spirit of a roommate since the beginning. But then Christine seemed to get most things about Nyota, and that's something she's been grateful for since she stepped off the shuttle at orientation and got handed her welcome packet by the woman who would soon become her closest friend.
"You know," Christine had said over beers one night about six months ago, "I have to commend you."
"For what?" Nyota asked; she remembers being surprised.
"Most people... well, a lot of people do accuse her of getting what she wants by manipulation." Christine didn't judge; it was one of her best qualities. She found Gaila hilarious, and never said no to including her on their girls' nights. But for all that she was Nyota's best friend, and knew her better than most people; well enough to know she could sometimes be judgmental, even if she didn't realize she was doing it.
But Nyota drew back, shaking her head. "What? That-- the hormones? But she's on a supplement to--"
Christine shook her head, gesturing with her bottle. "No, more like... well if you were the only member of your race in Starfleet, if you'd undergone God knows what to get out of the Syndicate and then managed to come here... it wouldn't be easy to say no to you, would it? And some people take that and run with it." Because it's what they would do, Nyota thinks. Because sometimes people suck, and they expect the worst from everyone because it's what they secretly know they'd do themselves.
"But Gaila wouldn't-- she doesn't have to," she replied, baffled almost to exasperation at the thought. "That's what's so-- so infuriating about her. She just smiles, and people fall all over themselves to make her smile again."
It hadn't escaped her notice, even then, that part of her ire stemmed from the fact that she was forced to include herself in that group.
---
At 1524 hours Nyota leaves the second-floor lounge where she's been idling for three quarters of an hour. She wouldn't let herself go back to her room to change her clothes, wouldn't even let herself do more than brush her teeth in the bathroom. This is their fourth meeting, and she's starting to wonder if this was such a good idea. This is almost entirely unfamiliar ground to her-- butterflies in her stomach, nervous about the way she looks, for God's sake-- and it's worse not knowing just how much her academic awe is contributing to her attraction, and how much is just plain old-fashioned desire.
Outside Spock's office she closes her eyes and takes a few deep yoga breaths to calm down before knocking. "Come," he says, and she breathes out one last time, uselessly reminding herself to calm down before opening the door.
His books are out on the table by the window again, in front of the armchair, leaving her the sofa. Irrationally, she wishes they were meeting in the library, the dining hall, anywhere public without such inviting furniture. Then he moves into her line of sight, carrying a teapot and two mugs.
"Good afternoon," he says in Vulcan.
"Good afternoon. How are you?" She'll be formal with him til she dies, she thinks. Even though their sessions haven't been nearly as awkward as she'd originally expected-- it helps, she thinks, that she's friends with T'Lira. It helps her see the small signs that he's just that tiny bit less on guard around her; that this isn't charity or a favor, but almost-- incredibly-- that he's enjoying it.
"I am well. How was your Phonology lesson today?"
"Very interesting. Commander Poller assigned our end-of-term projects. Part of the grade will include a lesson to the rest of the class."
"Do you expect that to be a viable method for assessing your knowledge of the subject?"
She thinks, careful not to let it show on her face, then nods. "Teaching is an effective way to show what one has learned, and in this case I believe if students of linguistics, especially those on Communications track, cannot express themselves well to their peers, it is a sign that perhaps they have chosen the wrong field of study."
She's rewarded for the briefest second by the hint of a smile hovering around his mouth. It's unfair to draw her attention; he has a beautiful mouth-- no, he has a beautiful everything, she thinks, grateful beyond belief that Vulcans are only telepathic by touch.
When Spock speaks again, it's in a different dialect. "Do you plan to attend Captain Pike's lecture next week?" he asks, and she takes a sip from her water, thinking before she answers.
The Remus dialect is close enough that she can understand a good amount of the words that are unfamiliar, but different enough that mistakes in her pronunciation won't go unnoticed. It's hard work, but she's never been shy of that. She nods and says smoothly, "I do. And you?"
He nods. "Yes." He seems to hesitate for a moment before adding, "Captain Pike was my adviser when I was a cadet. He has told me he is considering requesting I be assigned to his crew on his next mission."
Nyota knows she looks surprised, though really, she shouldn't be. "It is not your intent to continue teaching?"
"Continue teaching," he repeats, pronouncing the words with precision, and waits for her to repeat again before he answers. "No. I have always wished to join an exploration mission, and Captain Pike is an exemplary command officer. It would be a great privilege to serve with him."
She can't help a smile as she replies, "It is also my wish to join an exploration mission. Discovering the galaxy is one of the reasons I joined Starfleet."
It's hard to say for sure, but she thinks he looks pleased, or maybe pleasantly surprised. "The same is true of myself," he says.
It's one of the first personal things she learns about him, and she has to try hard not to consider it an equally personal victory.
---
She gets back to the room and opens the door to the sound of Gaila singing. She's been grinning since she left Spock's office, and she's glad her roommate seems to be in a similar mood.
"Hey," she says, tossing her bag down on her bed and moving toward her closet. "How's it going?"
"I am very good," Gaila says from her bed, where she's sitting cross-legged and bent over with her elbows on the mattress, glancing between the two padds laid out in front of her. "I got the top mark on my dilithium mechanics exam, and full marks on the astrometrics homework I turned in yesterday, and tonight I am going out with Jim Kirk, at last."
Nyota laughs. Gaila's heard her opinions on Kirk already, and chooses to ignore them. "At last? What, don't tell me he put up a fight? Or was it a scheduling conflict?"
"Be nice," Gaila scolds, sitting up straight and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "He's lovely."
Nyota rolls her eyes. "He's full of himself."
"Well tonight I'm going to be full of him, so that ought to handle the problem nicely." Nyota laughs harder than she should, despite the image that surges up in her brain-- the two of them in bed together, Gaila's emerald skin and copper curls, Kirk all honey-gold wrapped around her, her hands in his hair, his mouth on her neck, sweat-sheened skin and mingled moans-- she shakes her head to clear it, but the uncomfortable warmth in the pit of her stomach lingers.
"And you?" Gaila asks, propping her chin on her hand. "How was your date-- I mean, your very serious snooty intellectual meeting?" Nyota throws a pillow at her, and she tosses it back with a satisfied giggle. "Come on, Nyota, you've got to do better than that. He's delicious, you'd have to be dead not to notice, and stupid to think I wouldn't notice you noticing."
And for all that she didn't ever want to talk about it, didn't want to admit it to anyone except herself, she finds herself with a helpless smile, shrugging as her cheeks darken with a flush. "It was... good. Very good."
"Ah, I knew it!" Gaila cries, practically bouncing on the bed. "What happened? You have to tell me everything."
"Nothing happened," she protests, still unable to keep from grinning.
"You mean nothing yet," she corrects, standing and going to her dresser. "You've studied Vulcan history, you know the logic is all to keep the wildness inside. Mmm, repression," she says with an exaggerated shiver, turning to look over her shoulder, to catch Nyota's eyeroll and grin.
"Nothing happened," she says again.
Gaila shrugs, turns her back to the bureau and leans against it, crossing her long legs at the ankle. Her shorts are barely long enough to deserve the name, her t-shirt tight and worn thin. Nyota's often envied her careless ease, how free she is in her body. It's not often she lets herself stare.
Gaila's voice interrupts her. "Nothing may have happened yet, but that doesn't mean nothing's going to. I mean look at you, Nyota," she says with a fond smile that's somehow sad. "How could he resist you for long?"
She doesn't even know what to say to that, or how to begin responding, but she's saved by the bleep of Gaila's alarm.
"That's my cue," she says, starting to shed clothes as she moves toward the bathroom. "I probably won't be home tonight, but we're still on for drinks tomorrow night, yes?"
"Of course," Nyota says, turning toward her closet again and wondering what she's going to do with the rest of her evening. "Have fun with Kirk. I hope you're prepared to sleep through most of the day tomorrow," she calls, half turning back toward the bathroom with a grin. "From what I hear he's gonna give you a run for your money in the stamina department."
Gaila pops her head out of the door. "Oh, I'm prepared," she says with a mischievous smirk, teasing out another laugh that lingers with Nyota almost until Gaila's out of the shower.
---
It's amazing how even the most exciting event can become routine upon repetition. After four weeks of lessons, Nyota's started to lose some of her awkwardness, and is pleased to note Spock doing the same. That it only makes her feelings about him more conflicted is something she's tried not to think about. Having a fangirlish crush on your professor is livable; letting your one-on-one meetings lead to falling for him (and falling hard, by all indications) is not.
It's almost unfair, though; seeing him relax around her, getting to know him, the flashes of dry humor that keep her chuckling all through their lessons... if it were anyone else, she'd know for sure she was being flirted with, and know exactly how to respond. But with Spock, she's off her mooring, with no idea how to read what she's seeing. Every time she sees him open up, she feels her breath catch in her throat, she freezes. Don't go, she thinks. More, show me more, even as she gives more of herself without being asked.
It's exhilarating, but also frustrating, and sometimes a bit scary too. The last thing she wants is a misstep-- she senses it wouldn't take much to close him off again, and if she lost even the tentative hold she has on a part of him not everyone gets to see, she wouldn't know how to begin getting over it.
It's another Friday afternoon, and she barely pauses to knock before breezing into his office, grinning. He is already seated on the couch, and she tosses her padd down in front of him with a triumphant, "Ha!"
Spock looks up, wry amusement on his face. "Good afternoon," he says, using the more obscure Romulan dialect. "You have good news?"
"Read," she directs, dropping onto the couch beside him (damn formality and distance for once) and leaning over to watch him scan the screen.
When Spock looks up a second later, his expression doesn't change for a second, and then the corners of his mouth turn up and he gives a nod of approval. "Excellent work."
Damn right, she thinks, even as she flushes happily at his commendation; being invited to give her Phonology presentation before the Advanced Phonology class is nothing to sneeze at. "I am-- happy to hear you say so," she says; it's not a direct translation of what she means, but she doesn't have the words yet to be more specific.
Spock's eyebrow goes up and he looks into her face, a probing gaze that makes Nyota wish she had his level of control over her expression. She can't help that she's happy; she's been happy every time she's been in this room, worked her ass off to make sure she deserves the time he's spending with her, and now that she's done something to garner his respect, she's over the moon.
He puts the padd back in her hands. "Thank you for telling me your news," he says, quiet and something soft about the words. "It is good to see you smile."
It's just about the last thing she would've expected to hear from him, but it shoots through her like electricity; the closeness of him, how he hasn't let go of the padd yet even though her hands are on it too, the intensity of his eyes on hers that makes the rest of the world drop away, dimmed and muffled by the immediacy of Spock.
She doesn't realize they're an inch from kissing until, abruptly, she does; she's close enough to see his eyelashes flutter as he blinks, to see the tinge of green in his cheek and the fullness of his lower lip. Her eyes half close, and everything in her is yearning, her thoughts reduced to yes this yes, and she cannot believe this is happening, can almost feel the brush of his lips on hers and wants it more than anything she can imagine.
It startles a sound from her as he draws back, fast as if stung, all but drops the padd in her hands and stands. "Forgive me," he says stiffly in Standard, straightening the hem of his jacket and not looking at her. "I-- I believe it would be wise to reschedule our lesson for today."
Nyota's dumbfounded, her jaw practically on the floor, but she scrapes it together and nods. "Fine," she says, for lack of anything more coherent. "I'm sorry, I'll go." She's embarrassed and annoyed and too many other things to count; she gets up and leaves the office as fast as she can without another word.
She's going back home to change into the ugliest, most comfortable clothes she owns, and keeping her date with Christine for dinner at the burger joint down the street. She very much needs not to think about what just happened (what didn't just happen) and the consequences she might have to deal with because of it.
So stupid, she thinks as she starts to jog back toward the dorm, and isn't sure if she means Spock or herself.
---
It's probably going on the fifteenth time she's walked in on Gaila with a guy in the room, and this time she's too exhausted to do anything but throw her jacket on the bed with a loud sound of disgust. "For God's sake," she snarls, grabbing her jeans and hopping into them as fast as she can. "Put a damn sock on the door next time, will you?" It's all she can do to be glad it's not Kirk she's with-- that would be a little too much, a little more than she could take.
She's halfway down the hall when she hears her name and turns to see Gaila running after her, a long robe cinched around her waist, her hair still disheveled. "Nyota, I'm sorry," she says. "I thought you were going to be gone all night."
She does look penitent, and there's something about her regret, paired with the absence of the sort of feigned innocence she'd get from anyone else, that makes it impossible to resist.
"It's not you," she says after a minute, resisting the desire to bury her head in her hands, the stronger urge to reach out for a hug, to press her face to Gaila's shoulder. She could use the comfort, but that's not all she'd get from it, and she doesn't need more confusion in her brain right now. Why do you make it so hard to hate you? she wants to ask. Life would be so much easier if she could.
"It just-- bad afternoon," she says with a slight shrug and a sigh. "I'm sorry."
Gaila's mouth compresses into a soft line, rue and regret and sympathy written all over her face, and Nyota wonders what she did to deserve this person in her life, someone who sees the restlessness that lives inside her without being told, who understands her fractiousness and loves her in spite of it. "It's alright," Gaila says, her expression morphing into almost a smirk. "She wasn't that exciting anyway."
When she plops down in the booth across from Christine, fifteen minutes late, her friend stops with an onion ring half in her mouth, takes it out and puts it back down on her plate with a concerned expression. "Okay, come on, spill."
Nyota does, from the disaster with Spock to the awkwardness with Gaila. The humiliation of accidentally almost kissing your professor is easy to explain, but when she tries to talk about Gaila her train of thought goes off the rails. "I don't know, I just don't even know," she ends up saying, reaching for her cold burger to shut herself up.
"And you're a linguistics major, right?" Christine deadpans, snorting a laugh when Nyota raises both middle fingers in her direction.
"I just-- every time I think I'm comfortable with her, know her well or whatever, something happens that proves I don't get her. It's not even the sex thing-- she and Kirk could have a throwdown about who's bagged more of the students and probably come out even. She's just so..."
"Un-repressed?" Christine suggests, gesturing with another onion ring. It's too close to what Gaila herself had said, but before Nyota can protest Christine goes on. "Look, you're mad because you've got a-- a problem," she chooses the word quickly when Nyota raises an eyebrow at her, "and you're jealous it's so easy for her. That's like... it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out."
"You think I didn't get that far myself?" she shoots back. "I just don't understand why it makes me so mad. Jealousy I get-- I know what that feels like, you know? And... and yeah, alright, maybe I'm annoyed that I can't go after who I want. But this-- tonight, okay, I went in and she was with someone, I didn't even care who it was, or that I'd told her I was going to be gone all night. I was just mad about it." Mad that she was with someone at all, she thinks, and doesn't say.
Vocalizing it doesn't help. It is jealousy, but it's a bad kind, the kind Nyota knows because it's what she feels when she contemplates her crush on Spock-- it's the bitter twist in her stomach that says I want that, and I don't think I'll ever have it. It's ironic as hell. When it comes to her career, Nyota's not afraid of anything. But when it comes to getting what she wants from other people, emotions are a murky water she's never quite been able to convince herself isn't full of sharks.
Christine isn't as helpful as she could be. "You need to get laid," she says matter-of-factly. "And not by something with batteries." Nyota rolls her eyes, mumbles something unintelligible, hoping that covers up the fact that she knows her friend is right.
---
Nyota sleeps, but not as well as she would have liked. It's the weekend, which means campus is quieter than usual when she heads out for her run. She's tired, slow to start, and wishes she'd brought music. She could use something to spur her on, to keep her brain occupied.
She's ill-equipped to handle this, she realizes. Maybe it's karma, her personal life rearing its head now that her career is on track-- she doesn't know, and doesn't care. She's dangerously close to feeling overwhelmed.
Every time she thinks of Spock's face, the way he'd stood and practically herded her out the door of his office, that mortified flush starts crawling back up her neck, and she has the hysterical urge to shove her head under a pillow and scream. She's just thankful Gaila was out when she got back last night, so all she'd had to do was crawl between the covers and pass out.
She runs until she's exhausted, goes back to her room and collapses back into bed. When she wakes up, it's to Gaila singing in the shower. There's a sandwich and a bottle of juice on her bedside table, and she picks it up with a smile, closing her eyes for a moment of wordless thanks.
She's munching on the last of it and scrolling through the news reader on her padd when Gaila comes out of the bathroom, still humming. Nyota can't help the smile that creeps across her face. "Well?" she prompts, because she knows Gaila won't tell unless she asks, and good friends always know when to ask.
Gaila turns and grins, pulling on a blue shirt almost as vivid as her skin. "Very well," she corrects, waggling her eyebrows, watching satisfied as Nyota laughs. "You are too easy," she chides, tying the tie on her shorts and coming to sit on the end of Nyota's bed.
"Thanks for the sandwich," she says, gesturing with the empty plate as she puts it back on the table.
"You weren't at lunch, I figured you'd forgotten. You didn't sleep straight through?" she asks, concern suddenly drawing her expression tight.
Nyota shakes her head. "Nah. Went for a run and tired myself out again." She shrugs, looking down at her padd again though she's not really seeing what's on it. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I kind of put my foot in my mouth with Spock, and I just-- I wasn't myself." She looks up, forces a smile, which comes easier than she'd expected when Gaila reaches over to squeeze her hand.
"It's okay. I figured something was off-- you're not usually so--"
She pauses, and Nyota supplies, "Crazy?"
"That's not a bad word," Gaila admits, folding both hands over Nyota's. Her skin is still warm from her shower, and her hands are soft, but strong. Nyota's seen her in unarmed combat class, and knows the power in Gaila's body doesn't only lie in her curves. "But I forgive you," she goes on. "These things happen, and you are always so hard on yourself." She leans forward, and Nyota shuts her eyes, for a moment letting herself revel in the feel the pressure of Gaila's fingers on hers, the gentleness in the kiss she presses to Nyota's forehead, the sweet smell of her hair as it brushes Nyota's shoulder.
Then Gaila sits back, and is all smiles and mischief again. "Look, you need a distraction, yes? We have a date tonight with Christine and T'Lira, and I think they will agree you need to relax as well. So. Finish your reading, I will do my navigation homework, and then we will go and get drunk."
Hours later, as Nyota's knocking back her fifth Slusho (she still can't get any bartender to tell her what the hell is in them, but she thinks one of the ingredients must be drugs, because they are so good, though it's also possible their taste improves as her level of drunkenness increases) she has to admit, there are worse ways to spend a Saturday night.
The bar's crowded and raucous, and they're one of the loudest tables in the place. It's something of a ritual, listening to Christine's believe-it-or-not stories of late-night shifts in the Academy ER, made twice as hilarious by the impersonations she does of her hapless patients.
"So then I asked him how he got it stuck there in the first place, and he said, 'Nurse Chapel, you'd be surprised the number of problems a liberal application of butter can solve!'" she says dramatically in a stuffy nasal accent, and they all dissolve into laughter again (well, Nyota and Gaila laugh and T'Lira smiles, which is basically the same thing). Nyota laughs until it hurts, and only Gaila's hand on her shoulder draws her out of it.
"I'm going up to the bar," she says, glancing at the others before her eyes come back to rest on Nyota's. "Want another?"
"Not another Slusho," she says, ignoring Christine calling her a wus. "Just-- just beer, okay, whatever you're having." She sits back in her chair and wonders if she imagined Gaila's hand lingering on her shoulder as she walked away. She makes her eyes snap into focus as T'Lira starts to tell a story about her roommate, but then there's someone at her elbow, and--
"Hey ladies, how's it going?" says Jim Kirk, and McCoy at his shoulder mumbles something vague.
"Just when the evening was going well," she says with a snort, as Christine kicks her under the table.
"It's good, Jim, how's your evening? Both of yours, I mean," Chris adds, glancing at McCoy, and Nyota wonders if that's what people see on her face when she looks at Spock. If it is, it's a wonder no one ever explained to him what the phrase "mooning over" someone meant.
She looks up as Gaila returns with another tray full of drinks, including two shot glasses full of something bright pink. "Well, what do you know," she says in mock surprise. "It seems the bartender gave me two extra shots!" She puts one hand on her hip and points between Kirk and McCoy with a bemused, thoughtful expression, her eyes lingering warmly on Kirk the way they'd lingered on Nyota just minutes ago. "You guys wouldn't know anyone interested in taking these off our hands, would you?"
Jim's grin when he looks at Gaila is bright and soft. He really likes her, Nyota thinks, and isn't drunk enough to miss the ache she feels at the realization.
Abruptly she stands, turns and is a step away when she feels a hand on hers. She turns, meets Gaila's questioning look with a sheepish smile. "Bathroom," she says, gently disentangling her hand, trying not to wish she could hang on for longer.
She's halfway toward the bar before she realizes she has no idea where the bathroom actually is in this place. She veers toward a pair of girls she recognizes from her Operating and Tactical Systems class, thinking she can ask them, when she sees them looking over at her table, and pauses to listen to their conversation.
"...what he thinks he's gonna get out of her," one says scornfully.
"I just don't get why any guy would actually try to date her," says the other with a shrug. "I mean, he thinks he likes her, but it's all just hormones, right? I mean, why show your real personality when you can just make people fall for you by standing near them?"
Drunk as she is, Nyota doesn't think about what she's doing until she's standing in front of the two girls, hands on her hips with her chin up. By then she can tell, but only if she thinks about it, that her face is composed in a tight, furious expression that would probably do a Vulcan proud. "I know it's really cool and awesome to stand here and bitch about other people," she snaps, "but you should at least have the courtesy to do it about people you know. You don't know Gaila, obviously, because if you did you'd know how amazing she is. She's genuine and sweet and funny and smart, God," she snorts a laugh, "she's got to be way smarter than you two, you're seniors and you're just taking O and T now? Look, be catty if you want, I know I'm not going to stop you. But at least do me a favor and don't do it about my friend. Because I aced hand-to-hand combat and I'd be happy to get more convincing if you need me to."
Exhilarated, a second away from laughing, she turns around and bumps straight into Jim Kirk. His hands come up-- catching her shoulders, this time, and she stiffens, on her guard. They just stare at each other for a second, then he lets her go and steps back. "Just-- you went the wrong way," he says, one hand shoving into his pocket while the other thumb jerks over his shoulder. "Bathroom's that way. Other side of the bar."
"Oh," she says, feeling stupidly slow, her face on fire. How much did he hear? All of it, she asks and answers herself, seeing the awkwardness in his gaze, the way he looks hard at the other two girls before looking back to her. "Thanks," she says, happy to play ignorant if he'll let her. "I'll uh. Be right back."
Inside the bathroom she splashes cold water on her face, then turns and leans back against the counter, her eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling as the room spins gently around her and she wonders what the hell she's doing, pretending she's got everything under control when really it's exactly the opposite.
---
The next morning she wakes up and immediately wishes she hadn't. Everything still hurts, and worse, she has no memory of how she got home, or much of anything after telling off those two girls.
Kirk's face, though. She remembers that. He definitely overheard her, and he was definitely surprised by what he heard. Nyota doesn't know what to think about that. Was he surprised she intervened to strangers, or surprised she intervened on Gaila's behalf? She can't help wondering what Gaila tells other people about her, if the message is as mixed as the one she gives about Gaila.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the door to the room opens and Gaila walks in, carrying a bag of groceries and texting someone on her comm. She puts the bag down and Nyota sits up, shoving her hair back out of her face. "Hi," she mumbles, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.
"This is two days in a row I've returned to find you asleep," Gaila says softly, smiling. She reaches into the bag and pulls out a huge bottle of water, passing it to Nyota as she sits on the end of the bed. "Here."
"Thanks," she replies, uncapping it and taking a long drink. She lowers the bottle and sees Gaila's outstretched hand with two painkillers on her palm. "I tried to get Jim to get one of McCoy's hangover cure hypos," she says apologetically, "but he's all out."
She tries a smile on for size. "Thanks anyway. That's... that's very sweet."
Gaila shrugs, grinning. "That's me."
"I don't even remember coming back here," she confesses, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes.
"You were pretty wasted," Gaila says as she gets up, and it's funny how she always makes the most maudlin sentiments sound so cheerful. "Thank God T'Lira's not affected by alcohol; she mostly carried you back here. Jim walked with us to make sure you were okay; if anyone knows the line between drunk and in need of medical attention, it's him."
She's moving around the room now and Nyota is grateful she doesn't have to open her eyes yet; she just listens to the other girl's movements and waits for the throbbing in her temples to subside.
Finally Gaila comes back to sit on the end of the bed, and Nyota feels coolness against her hand. She opens her eyes; it's a wet washcloth for her face, and she scrubs at it gratefully. Gaila takes the opportunity to say quietly, "Jim told me what happened last night. With those girls."
She goes still, then drops her hands into her lap. She shrugs, nonchalant, and says, "Well, they were out of line."
"You didn't have to do it," Gaila says. "Especially not... not if you think they were right."
"What?" She draws back as if physically shoved, and her stomach lurches with anxiety. "I don't-- what makes you think that?"
"I don't think you think it all the time," Gaila says, matter-of-fact, no trace of hurt anywhere about her. "Just sometimes."
"I don't ever think it," Nyota insists, reaching for the other girl's hands with both of her own. She wonders how Gaila could ask that question, but the realization, the remembrance hits her that there was a time that wasn't so far off the mark. So she clarifies. "I don't ever think it anymore."
Gaila's eyes meet Nyota's, her eyes curious and her face drawn with something like longing, and Nyota's stomach lurches again. "What changed?" Gaila asks, and she doesn't have to hesitate before answering.
"I got to know you. Got to know you better than other people bother to." She realizes she's squeezing Gaila's hands, and makes herself relax, only to realize Gaila's squeezing hers back almost as hard. "I'm sorry," she says, the only thing she can think of, though there are a thousand other choices crowding her mind right now. Her throat feels dry, and she swallows.
"I didn't want to think that of you," Gaila says, "but I do find myself in the position of liking people more than they like me."
"No..." she trails off, mortified and amused as what comes out of her mouth next is, "I like you a lot. Really." Really? she scolds herself immediately. You sound like a middle-schooler with a crush. Which isn't as inaccurate as it could be, all things considered, but you're almost twenty years old and this is a little ridiculous.
Gaila doesn't seem to notice her agonizing; in fact, it seems to actually make her feel better. "Well good," she says, her smile small but genuine. "I would hate to have to tell Jim that he is right, and you don't have a heart at all," she adds, a teasing lilt to her voice, and the fist of tension around Nyota's heart unclenches.
She smiles back, but she's stuck on something Gaila said that doesn't make sense-- not when talking about Nyota, or anyone else she can think of. There's no one who doesn't take to Gaila like a fish to water once they stop and get to know her. "Why do you say that?" she asks. "That you like people more than they like you."
One shoulder hitches, and Gaila looks up and away, out the window, like she's seeing something invisible to everyone else. When she speaks it's slow, like this is the first time she's saying this out loud. "I wouldn't have gotten out of the Syndicate without help. And I had it from a bunch of people, some I barely knew, who maybe wanted out themselves and weren't brave enough to try, or people who just thought I deserved a shot. I owe them my life," she says, quietly serious, looking back to Nyota with eyes haunted by grief for the first time Nyota can ever remember.
Her next words are more firm, the weight of conviction behind them, a determination that sends a thrill up Nyota's spine. "Since then I've never let myself forget-- and I know it sounds cliche, but it's true-- how important it is to make connections-- to reach out to others, because you never know what they can teach you, or what you can teach them. Even if it doesn't last forever-- nothing does. It's better to go after what you want, to risk, than to stay stuck in one place forever. But most people here don't think that way."
There's a silence as the weight of Gaila's words sinks in, and then she shrugs again and adds, "That's why I'll never understand you humans and your attitude about sex. What can be so bad? You meet, you connect-- it's just a little pleasure, a way of knowing someone. It's not going to kill you." She grins then, the grave sorrow almost erased from her eyes. "Not that I think you need to learn that lesson more than everyone else I know, Nyota... just more than most people."
She stands, and Nyota looks up as Gaila's fingers brush her cheek, tipping her chin up. "You deserve to be happy. I think Spock will make you happy."
It feels like a benediction, and she smiles, full and sweet. "You make me happy," she tells her, and Gaila smiles back, her touch lingering on Nyota's cheek for a moment before she turns away.
---
At 2100 hours Nyota stands outside Spock's door with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, wondering if her decision to take Gaila's advice and run with it is going to mean running headfirst into expulsion from the Academy.
Still, she remembers better to go after what you want, to risk, and so before she can talk herself out of it she presses her thumb to the hail button.
There's a moment of silence that stretches on into a minute, and she's almost convinced herself that he's not there or not answering when the panel beeps and Spock's voice comes through. "Who is it?"
"It's-- Cadet Uhura," she says, and immediately winces at the strained formality. That's really going to imply I want a closer relationship with him, she thinks with a roll of her eyes.
"One moment," he says, and now her heart starts drumming in her chest, her throat feels tight and she has to clench her hands into fists and slowly relax them, forcing herself to calm down.
The door opens and before he can say anything she's talking. "I know I probably shouldn't have come, but I had to correct something I said to you on Friday." She ignores his stupid expressive eyebrows and plows on. "I said I was sorry, and I'm not. I'm not sorry at all that we almost kissed. I'm actually not sorry about anything, because I like you and I see no reason not to admit it, especially since you've given every indication you reciprocate. It isn't something I expected, but to deny its existence would be counterproductive to our tutoring sessions, and to the fact that we're also sort of friends. So unless you have some moral objection, I would like to suggest a--" and here she stops, searching for a better word and not finding one. "A do-over," she says, a lame finish to what had been a very logical argument a moment ago.
"A do-over," Spock repeats with a wry little smile. "A repeat of the events of Friday afternoon, but one that would not end in you fleeing my office."
A flush has slowly been working its way up her face, and even as it flames even brighter at his words she nods. "Exactly." She wants to say more, to say she gets that it's problematic because he's her teacher and superior officer, and they'll have to be careful; but she thought through all of the ways they can work around that on her way over here and she figures it can wait. The important thing is whether or not he's going to let her in the door. As Christine would say, everything else is gravy.
After a moment Spock stands back from the door. "I think it would be prudent to move out of the corridor," he says, and her stomach flips with anticipation but she gets through the door quick, like if she doesn't move fast enough she'll miss her chance.
The office is different at night; high up ambient lights give the room a soft glow, and the city outside the tall windows is alive with light and movement. Nyota turns, her pulse pounding in her ears, watching Spock move closer, then stop before he's close enough to touch. "You are certain?" he asks softly. "It is true of late I find myself less focused on our work, and more on the pleasure of your company. I admit my regard for you has become... it is more than friendship I want from you, Nyota," he says, and a rush of adrenaline heats her from the inside at the sound of her name. Oh, I'm a goner, she thinks, biting her lip and focusing on his words as he goes on, "Yet I would not wish to compromise what we have already, or to risk losing our acquaintance entirely."
She's quiet for a minute, just looking at him. It's true she wants him (does she ever), and true she'd be happier not changing anything if it meant losing his friendship entirely. But Nyota has always been an overachiever, and she decides then and there to have it all-- his respect and professional regard, and the right to lock the door and kiss him breathless if she feels like it. It's a dazzling prospect, and she wants it so badly it hurts.
"I think it's worth the risk," she says finally, tingling with nerves down to the tips of her fingers. "Do you?"
For an answer, Spock closes the distance between them with one hand on her shoulder and the other at the nape of her neck. Their mouths meet, tentative at first, then surer as her arms wind around his neck; his tongue brushes hers and she shivers, hears his quick-drawn breath, and holds on tighter.
---
She comes back well after midnight all but glowing with elation. Inside the room is dark, empty; Gaila's gone, which means she's probably got the room to herself til tomorrow. Nyota turns the lights up halfway and gets into her pajamas, moving dazed with a grin she couldn't get rid of if she tried.
She curls up in bed and reaches for her padd; when she taps the screen to turn it on she sees a note scrawled in familiar handwriting.
You've been gone two hours so I think it's safe to say YAY NYOTA!! I'm so proud of you!! I want all the details in the morning. ♥ G.
It's so artless, so intimate, so Gaila; it makes her smile again, the abundance of luck she's had since she let go control over the people who walked into her life and laid claims to her heart, and she slips down into sleep feeling nothing but bliss.
---
In the morning she runs, and as she crests the hill above the Academy and starts down toward it, she smiles and thinks to herself, I'm almost home.
Title : Out of the Lines
Fandom : Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing : Uhura, Gaila, Spock, Chapel, OFC, brief cameos by Kirk and McCoy; mostly gen, some Spock/Uhura and Uhura/Gaila
Rating : PG-13
Warnings : none
Word Count : 9698
Summary : They teach a lot at Starfleet Academy, but some of the most important things Nyota learns are about herself.
A/Ns : guys you guys, i wrote a fic with absolutely no mention of kirk/spock. now stand amazed. :D this is for trekreversebang, for morlockiness's fantastic art which is just behind the cut. i saw the sketch and immediately envisioned a scene with uhura and gaila in a bar, and got to thinking about their life at the academy, and exploring how their relationship might have started and how it might have changed over time. don't ask me how spock ended up in there; bastard just won't leave me alone. ;) sekala was an awesome beta, and the title is from dar williams.
---
---
Every morning, Nyota goes running.
When she was younger she'd learned the joy of it, the beauty of speed and the feel of the wind on her face, and she had learned to love the bare horizon, the sun rising huge above the trees that squatted close to the red earth, the mountain wreathed in fog. It was a solace-- relying on her feet, her lungs, her legs propelling her, every step moving her away from one thing and toward another. She got where she was going under her own power, and when she ran she felt she could get anywhere, do anything.
San Francisco is different from everywhere she's ever lived. Wetter, cooler, the ocean taste on the air, trees like skyscrapers and sun-whitened sand, all as strange as discovering the surface of a new planet. She loves it fiercely for everything it holds and everything it's shown her, but it's still something of a marvel after two years, a place she's not sure will ever really feel like home.
The room's still quiet when she gets back from her run, and she downs the rest of her water and collapses into the chair in front of her comm unit, dialing without looking either at the number pad, or at the dim outlines of the room behind her.
"Hi, Mama," she says with a smile as the screen suddenly becomes a window, giving her a view on a small kitchen with yellow tiles, sunlight streaming in the window.
"It's not Sunday, honey, what's up?" Her mother's eyebrows draw together and Nyota rolls her eyes, grinning.
"Did you think I wasn't going to remember?" she teases.
"Well, a woman can hope," her mother replies dryly with a similar expression. "You think I want more reminders how old I'm getting?"
"I think you want to know I haven't forgotten you just because I'm across the continent," she counters. "How's Bibi?"
"Crazy as ever," says her mother with a shrug. "Convinced you're going to jet off into space and get yourself blown up, as usual. I try to explain what you're actually doing over there, she doesn't quite understand."
Behind her, Nyota can hear Gaila shift, the sleepy murmur that means she's waking up. She forces herself not to turn in the direction of the sound. "Will you still be able to come to my presentation next month?"
"I hope so. If Kishera can come stay with her, you know I will. But you know how she is about being left alone."
Nyota nods, trying not to feel disappointment before it's due. "Alright, mama. I've got to get ready for class, but I love you. Have a happy birthday."
"Bless you, girl. Oh, before I forget, how's that class? That Beta Quadrant Linguistics or whatever it is, with that professor you were so excited about? Still as awesome as you thought at first?"
She can't help a grin, and prays her mother doesn't see the blush. "Advanced Beta Quadrant Linguistic Patterns with Professor Spock. Definitely more awesome than I expected. I'll tell you more about it later, okay?"
"Okay, okay. Go do your thing. Love you."
"Love you too, mama. Miss you." She switches off and half turns in her chair as Gaila sits up, rubbing her eyes.
"It's early," she says, and Nyota nods.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's alright." Gaila stands, clearly expecting Nyota to be as oblivious to her nakedness as she is, and stretches. Nyota turns back to the screen, but her eyes follow the dim outline of Gaila's shape as she walks toward the bathroom.
She doesn't even realize she got cut in line for the shower until she hears the water start.
---
She's later for class than she wants to be-- which is to say, two minutes early instead of fifteen. He's already there when she comes in and drops into her seat-- right at the front, of course-- hoping no one's noticed the slip in her obsessive punctuality. Today of all days, she thinks with an inward sigh, and for the tenth time resists the urge to write down a script for the conversation she means to have later.
When she looks up from getting her padd out of her bag, though, it's to find Commander Spock's eyes on hers, that indecipherable eyebrow quirked. Don't grimace, for God's sakes don't blush, Nyota wills internally, and after a split second lets her face relax into a smile, one that threatens to grow when he nods his head in return. You are such a girl, she scolds herself, but it doesn't stop the smile lingering on her face as the lecture begins.
At the end of class the bell rings, and as people are packing up their stuff, she forces her nerves to calm the hell down. It's not presumptive, just suck it up and ask, she tells herself, and approaches Commander Spock at his desk.
"Cadet Uhura," he says, tapping something out on his padd before looking up, his eyes fixing on hers with interested directness.
"Commander, I wondered if I might have a word," she says, refusing to let herself fidget with her padd. Stop being such a fangirl, she says to herself. Be professional. You're fucking brilliant and he's had you in class for three months so he knows that. Just because he's even more brilliant and his mother is Amanda Grayson doesn't mean anything. She'll remind herself later that it would probably work better if she tried to tell herself things she actually had a prayer of believing.
"I have another engagement in ten minutes," he says, standing, "but if you are not opposed to joining me on my walk, we can speak on the way."
Nyota tries not to laugh at the idea she'd turn him down, just slings her bag over her shoulder and falls into step beside him as he starts up the stairs. "I've been looking at the courses for next term, and I've asked Commander Poller about signing up for the Advanced Syntactical and Morphological Theory course."
Spock nods, cutting easily through the throng of students outside the lecture hall and pushing open the door of the building. Outside it is cool and sunny, a perfect afternoon. "I am aware of your intent," says Spock as he leads them across the green to the Science building. "It is a commendable goal for a second-year student."
Nyota spends a fraction of a second wondering how in God's name he knows that when she only asked Poller about it three days ago, then quickly remembers her manners and says, "Thank you for saying so, sir. However, Commander Poller implied that while my ability to keep up with the pace of the class was not in doubt, my knowledge base for the breadth of subjects being covered does have some gaps."
"Indeed," Spock says, somewhat thoughtful. "I would imagine your proficience in morphology would make you an excellent addition to the class," and she doesn't, doesn't get a flutter in her stomach at the compliment, "yet it contains a component of examining the syntax of many dialects to which you have not yet been exposed. The Remus subcontinent dialect of Vulcan, for example, and both minor dialects of the Romulan language."
"Exactly," she agrees, gearing up for the actual request portion of this conversation. "And I was hoping-- wondering, rather, if you might recommend how best to go about familiarizing myself with those dialects in the time between now and the beginning of next term."
Spock doesn't answer right away and for a moment there's just the sound of their boots on the sidewalk. For a few heartbeats Nyota wonders if she's said something wrong. But then he stops and turns toward her, his eyes dark and curious, and something warm curls in her stomach; something unsettled at the focus in his gaze, but welcoming the feeling, even inviting it.
"You are aware the easiest way to learn a language is to immerse yourself in it," he says, "and as I am fluent in both dialects of Vulcan and familiar with all three dialects of Romulan, I would be remiss if I did not volunteer myself as an adequate tutor."
She clenches her jaw to keep it from dropping in disbelief-- did he actually just--? But then as if he's unaware of what a gift the offer is, Spock continues, "Nevak's primer to the Romulan dialects will suffice, and if you are amenable I will endeavor to supplement Styrr and T'Bara's text on the Remus subcontinent dialect with conversation."
For a second it's too much information to process, and Nyota almost feels dizzy. He really did just offer-- and in all three-- and conversation-- oh my God, the first complete thought she's able to form, did he just refer to himself as an adequate tutor? She could laugh; that'd be like the kid prodigy in the astrophysics department getting an offer to be tutored by Einstein and calling it adequate.
The clock tower begins to chime and she abruptly realizes she hasn't answered, and the silence is starting to stretch. "Commander, I'd be honored," she says, snapping a razor-sharp salute. "Thank you very much for the generous offer."
Spock nods, half shifts as if to walk on, then pauses, his gaze lingering on hers, that thoughtful look that's had her sitting in rapt attention at the front of his class for the past three months. "You are welcome, Cadet," he says. "I will message you when I am free to meet. Good afternoon."
He starts up the stairs to go into the building, and after he's gone Nyota gives in to the urge to do a double victory fist-pump, letting her head drop back and a grin spread unrestrained over her face. Then she composes herself, straightens her jacket, and starts walking back the way she came. Only two classes left between her and the weekend, and now that all the nervous energy has drained out of her, she's starting to feel like it can't come fast enough.
---
At the bar that night Nyota grabs the table first, but T'Lira is so close behind her Nyota's surprised they didn't bump into each other in the doorway. "How are you?" she asks in Vulcan. She's nearly fluent now, but Vulcan is a language you can always get better at (especially when you're going to be conversing in it with your brilliant and terribly attractive professor twice a week) and lucky for her T'Lira doesn't mind helping her practice.
"I am well," the Vulcan girl says with a fractional smile. "And thee?"
Nyota grins; she forgets sometimes, that they're close enough for the informality. "Very well. Grateful for the weekend."
And isn't she just. She's about to elaborate on all the things that were so trying and thrilling about her week, when a peal of laughter rises over the loud murmur of conversation. Nyota turns unconsciously, automatically, to see Gaila with one arm around Hikaru Sulu and the other around a curvaceous cadet from Engineering track, all of them in an uproar over the bartender juggling what appear to be flaming shot glasses.
She turns back to T'Lira, feeling her rueful annoyance showing on her face. "I suppose that indicates I should not plan on sleeping in my own room tonight," she says in resignation as Christine drops her bag onto the chair beside Nyota's.
"You can quit talking in languages I can't speak now, girls," she says by way of greeting, shrugging off her jacket and reaching into her bag for a clip to twist up her hair. "Unless you want to hear the nitty gritty of the Tellarite appendectomy I just scrubbed in on, that is."
T'Lira's lip curls in faint disgust. "As I have just eaten dinner, I would prefer descriptions of organs not enter our conversation."
"My point exactly," says Christine with a grin. "So I'm the rotten egg, that means first round's on me. What are we drinking?"
Nyota grins. "Anything, as long as it's strong. And grab some fries while you're at it, I could eat a horse. Hey, is your roommate still away at that conference tonight?"
Christine gets a wrinkle between her eyebrows. "Yeah, why?" Nyota just nods up to the bar, where Gaila's hand is now in the Engineering cadet's back pocket. Chris looks, and Nyota can see the shift of her shoulders as she laughs a little. "Say no more," she says wryly over her shoulder, and vanishes up toward the bar.
"Rotten egg?" T'Lira asks in the ensuing quiet, and Nyota gives a tired smile.
"Yeah, as in, you snooze you lose," she says, and tries not to watch as Gaila leans in to press her mouth to Sulu's with a teasing grin and a sparkle in her eye.
---
She'd been overwhelmed at first. Most people were, she figured. Gaila wasn't like anyone else.
Nyota had used to think being friends would be easier if they didn't live together. Or if they didn't always share at least one of their classes. Or, you know, if they weren't both inhabiting the same city. Gaila was just so much-- louder, brighter, wilder, more of everything than anyone Nyota had ever known, and she didn't know how to make such a person fit into her life.
Nyota's life has always been careful-- carefully structured, carefully ordered, and she's very careful about who she lets into it. Gaila ignored these, and all other boundaries that Nyota or anyone might have up. It's what made her and Jim Kirk such good friends (and how unsurprised Nyota had been to discover it). They both have that innate ability to hear someone tell them No and reply instictively, Just try and stop me. She hadn't cared that Nyota was wary of the chaos Gaila might cause just by being near her. She'd simply decided they were going to be friends-- and, shockingly, they were.
It was sort of inevitable. Almost immediately after meeting her, Nyota had felt like Gaila could find her, would find her wherever she was, always just as she was starting to forget about her. It was an uncanny talent she had; something to do with how every room was darker once she'd gone out of it, and every conversation lacking until her laugh appeared to make it sparkle. It wasn't like she thought she was better than everyone, or better than anyone. She just didn't know how not to enjoy life, and genuinely wanted to make other people enjoy it with her.
Nyota's been strangely fascinated by Gaila since day one. She doesn't understand her, but she's going to do everything her not-inconsiderable brain can think of to try. Though she doesn't understand her own attachment, Christine always has. She's seen and understood the weird balance struck between uptight Nyota and her free spirit of a roommate since the beginning. But then Christine seemed to get most things about Nyota, and that's something she's been grateful for since she stepped off the shuttle at orientation and got handed her welcome packet by the woman who would soon become her closest friend.
"You know," Christine had said over beers one night about six months ago, "I have to commend you."
"For what?" Nyota asked; she remembers being surprised.
"Most people... well, a lot of people do accuse her of getting what she wants by manipulation." Christine didn't judge; it was one of her best qualities. She found Gaila hilarious, and never said no to including her on their girls' nights. But for all that she was Nyota's best friend, and knew her better than most people; well enough to know she could sometimes be judgmental, even if she didn't realize she was doing it.
But Nyota drew back, shaking her head. "What? That-- the hormones? But she's on a supplement to--"
Christine shook her head, gesturing with her bottle. "No, more like... well if you were the only member of your race in Starfleet, if you'd undergone God knows what to get out of the Syndicate and then managed to come here... it wouldn't be easy to say no to you, would it? And some people take that and run with it." Because it's what they would do, Nyota thinks. Because sometimes people suck, and they expect the worst from everyone because it's what they secretly know they'd do themselves.
"But Gaila wouldn't-- she doesn't have to," she replied, baffled almost to exasperation at the thought. "That's what's so-- so infuriating about her. She just smiles, and people fall all over themselves to make her smile again."
It hadn't escaped her notice, even then, that part of her ire stemmed from the fact that she was forced to include herself in that group.
---
At 1524 hours Nyota leaves the second-floor lounge where she's been idling for three quarters of an hour. She wouldn't let herself go back to her room to change her clothes, wouldn't even let herself do more than brush her teeth in the bathroom. This is their fourth meeting, and she's starting to wonder if this was such a good idea. This is almost entirely unfamiliar ground to her-- butterflies in her stomach, nervous about the way she looks, for God's sake-- and it's worse not knowing just how much her academic awe is contributing to her attraction, and how much is just plain old-fashioned desire.
Outside Spock's office she closes her eyes and takes a few deep yoga breaths to calm down before knocking. "Come," he says, and she breathes out one last time, uselessly reminding herself to calm down before opening the door.
His books are out on the table by the window again, in front of the armchair, leaving her the sofa. Irrationally, she wishes they were meeting in the library, the dining hall, anywhere public without such inviting furniture. Then he moves into her line of sight, carrying a teapot and two mugs.
"Good afternoon," he says in Vulcan.
"Good afternoon. How are you?" She'll be formal with him til she dies, she thinks. Even though their sessions haven't been nearly as awkward as she'd originally expected-- it helps, she thinks, that she's friends with T'Lira. It helps her see the small signs that he's just that tiny bit less on guard around her; that this isn't charity or a favor, but almost-- incredibly-- that he's enjoying it.
"I am well. How was your Phonology lesson today?"
"Very interesting. Commander Poller assigned our end-of-term projects. Part of the grade will include a lesson to the rest of the class."
"Do you expect that to be a viable method for assessing your knowledge of the subject?"
She thinks, careful not to let it show on her face, then nods. "Teaching is an effective way to show what one has learned, and in this case I believe if students of linguistics, especially those on Communications track, cannot express themselves well to their peers, it is a sign that perhaps they have chosen the wrong field of study."
She's rewarded for the briefest second by the hint of a smile hovering around his mouth. It's unfair to draw her attention; he has a beautiful mouth-- no, he has a beautiful everything, she thinks, grateful beyond belief that Vulcans are only telepathic by touch.
When Spock speaks again, it's in a different dialect. "Do you plan to attend Captain Pike's lecture next week?" he asks, and she takes a sip from her water, thinking before she answers.
The Remus dialect is close enough that she can understand a good amount of the words that are unfamiliar, but different enough that mistakes in her pronunciation won't go unnoticed. It's hard work, but she's never been shy of that. She nods and says smoothly, "I do. And you?"
He nods. "Yes." He seems to hesitate for a moment before adding, "Captain Pike was my adviser when I was a cadet. He has told me he is considering requesting I be assigned to his crew on his next mission."
Nyota knows she looks surprised, though really, she shouldn't be. "It is not your intent to continue teaching?"
"Continue teaching," he repeats, pronouncing the words with precision, and waits for her to repeat again before he answers. "No. I have always wished to join an exploration mission, and Captain Pike is an exemplary command officer. It would be a great privilege to serve with him."
She can't help a smile as she replies, "It is also my wish to join an exploration mission. Discovering the galaxy is one of the reasons I joined Starfleet."
It's hard to say for sure, but she thinks he looks pleased, or maybe pleasantly surprised. "The same is true of myself," he says.
It's one of the first personal things she learns about him, and she has to try hard not to consider it an equally personal victory.
---
She gets back to the room and opens the door to the sound of Gaila singing. She's been grinning since she left Spock's office, and she's glad her roommate seems to be in a similar mood.
"Hey," she says, tossing her bag down on her bed and moving toward her closet. "How's it going?"
"I am very good," Gaila says from her bed, where she's sitting cross-legged and bent over with her elbows on the mattress, glancing between the two padds laid out in front of her. "I got the top mark on my dilithium mechanics exam, and full marks on the astrometrics homework I turned in yesterday, and tonight I am going out with Jim Kirk, at last."
Nyota laughs. Gaila's heard her opinions on Kirk already, and chooses to ignore them. "At last? What, don't tell me he put up a fight? Or was it a scheduling conflict?"
"Be nice," Gaila scolds, sitting up straight and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "He's lovely."
Nyota rolls her eyes. "He's full of himself."
"Well tonight I'm going to be full of him, so that ought to handle the problem nicely." Nyota laughs harder than she should, despite the image that surges up in her brain-- the two of them in bed together, Gaila's emerald skin and copper curls, Kirk all honey-gold wrapped around her, her hands in his hair, his mouth on her neck, sweat-sheened skin and mingled moans-- she shakes her head to clear it, but the uncomfortable warmth in the pit of her stomach lingers.
"And you?" Gaila asks, propping her chin on her hand. "How was your date-- I mean, your very serious snooty intellectual meeting?" Nyota throws a pillow at her, and she tosses it back with a satisfied giggle. "Come on, Nyota, you've got to do better than that. He's delicious, you'd have to be dead not to notice, and stupid to think I wouldn't notice you noticing."
And for all that she didn't ever want to talk about it, didn't want to admit it to anyone except herself, she finds herself with a helpless smile, shrugging as her cheeks darken with a flush. "It was... good. Very good."
"Ah, I knew it!" Gaila cries, practically bouncing on the bed. "What happened? You have to tell me everything."
"Nothing happened," she protests, still unable to keep from grinning.
"You mean nothing yet," she corrects, standing and going to her dresser. "You've studied Vulcan history, you know the logic is all to keep the wildness inside. Mmm, repression," she says with an exaggerated shiver, turning to look over her shoulder, to catch Nyota's eyeroll and grin.
"Nothing happened," she says again.
Gaila shrugs, turns her back to the bureau and leans against it, crossing her long legs at the ankle. Her shorts are barely long enough to deserve the name, her t-shirt tight and worn thin. Nyota's often envied her careless ease, how free she is in her body. It's not often she lets herself stare.
Gaila's voice interrupts her. "Nothing may have happened yet, but that doesn't mean nothing's going to. I mean look at you, Nyota," she says with a fond smile that's somehow sad. "How could he resist you for long?"
She doesn't even know what to say to that, or how to begin responding, but she's saved by the bleep of Gaila's alarm.
"That's my cue," she says, starting to shed clothes as she moves toward the bathroom. "I probably won't be home tonight, but we're still on for drinks tomorrow night, yes?"
"Of course," Nyota says, turning toward her closet again and wondering what she's going to do with the rest of her evening. "Have fun with Kirk. I hope you're prepared to sleep through most of the day tomorrow," she calls, half turning back toward the bathroom with a grin. "From what I hear he's gonna give you a run for your money in the stamina department."
Gaila pops her head out of the door. "Oh, I'm prepared," she says with a mischievous smirk, teasing out another laugh that lingers with Nyota almost until Gaila's out of the shower.
---
It's amazing how even the most exciting event can become routine upon repetition. After four weeks of lessons, Nyota's started to lose some of her awkwardness, and is pleased to note Spock doing the same. That it only makes her feelings about him more conflicted is something she's tried not to think about. Having a fangirlish crush on your professor is livable; letting your one-on-one meetings lead to falling for him (and falling hard, by all indications) is not.
It's almost unfair, though; seeing him relax around her, getting to know him, the flashes of dry humor that keep her chuckling all through their lessons... if it were anyone else, she'd know for sure she was being flirted with, and know exactly how to respond. But with Spock, she's off her mooring, with no idea how to read what she's seeing. Every time she sees him open up, she feels her breath catch in her throat, she freezes. Don't go, she thinks. More, show me more, even as she gives more of herself without being asked.
It's exhilarating, but also frustrating, and sometimes a bit scary too. The last thing she wants is a misstep-- she senses it wouldn't take much to close him off again, and if she lost even the tentative hold she has on a part of him not everyone gets to see, she wouldn't know how to begin getting over it.
It's another Friday afternoon, and she barely pauses to knock before breezing into his office, grinning. He is already seated on the couch, and she tosses her padd down in front of him with a triumphant, "Ha!"
Spock looks up, wry amusement on his face. "Good afternoon," he says, using the more obscure Romulan dialect. "You have good news?"
"Read," she directs, dropping onto the couch beside him (damn formality and distance for once) and leaning over to watch him scan the screen.
When Spock looks up a second later, his expression doesn't change for a second, and then the corners of his mouth turn up and he gives a nod of approval. "Excellent work."
Damn right, she thinks, even as she flushes happily at his commendation; being invited to give her Phonology presentation before the Advanced Phonology class is nothing to sneeze at. "I am-- happy to hear you say so," she says; it's not a direct translation of what she means, but she doesn't have the words yet to be more specific.
Spock's eyebrow goes up and he looks into her face, a probing gaze that makes Nyota wish she had his level of control over her expression. She can't help that she's happy; she's been happy every time she's been in this room, worked her ass off to make sure she deserves the time he's spending with her, and now that she's done something to garner his respect, she's over the moon.
He puts the padd back in her hands. "Thank you for telling me your news," he says, quiet and something soft about the words. "It is good to see you smile."
It's just about the last thing she would've expected to hear from him, but it shoots through her like electricity; the closeness of him, how he hasn't let go of the padd yet even though her hands are on it too, the intensity of his eyes on hers that makes the rest of the world drop away, dimmed and muffled by the immediacy of Spock.
She doesn't realize they're an inch from kissing until, abruptly, she does; she's close enough to see his eyelashes flutter as he blinks, to see the tinge of green in his cheek and the fullness of his lower lip. Her eyes half close, and everything in her is yearning, her thoughts reduced to yes this yes, and she cannot believe this is happening, can almost feel the brush of his lips on hers and wants it more than anything she can imagine.
It startles a sound from her as he draws back, fast as if stung, all but drops the padd in her hands and stands. "Forgive me," he says stiffly in Standard, straightening the hem of his jacket and not looking at her. "I-- I believe it would be wise to reschedule our lesson for today."
Nyota's dumbfounded, her jaw practically on the floor, but she scrapes it together and nods. "Fine," she says, for lack of anything more coherent. "I'm sorry, I'll go." She's embarrassed and annoyed and too many other things to count; she gets up and leaves the office as fast as she can without another word.
She's going back home to change into the ugliest, most comfortable clothes she owns, and keeping her date with Christine for dinner at the burger joint down the street. She very much needs not to think about what just happened (what didn't just happen) and the consequences she might have to deal with because of it.
So stupid, she thinks as she starts to jog back toward the dorm, and isn't sure if she means Spock or herself.
---
It's probably going on the fifteenth time she's walked in on Gaila with a guy in the room, and this time she's too exhausted to do anything but throw her jacket on the bed with a loud sound of disgust. "For God's sake," she snarls, grabbing her jeans and hopping into them as fast as she can. "Put a damn sock on the door next time, will you?" It's all she can do to be glad it's not Kirk she's with-- that would be a little too much, a little more than she could take.
She's halfway down the hall when she hears her name and turns to see Gaila running after her, a long robe cinched around her waist, her hair still disheveled. "Nyota, I'm sorry," she says. "I thought you were going to be gone all night."
She does look penitent, and there's something about her regret, paired with the absence of the sort of feigned innocence she'd get from anyone else, that makes it impossible to resist.
"It's not you," she says after a minute, resisting the desire to bury her head in her hands, the stronger urge to reach out for a hug, to press her face to Gaila's shoulder. She could use the comfort, but that's not all she'd get from it, and she doesn't need more confusion in her brain right now. Why do you make it so hard to hate you? she wants to ask. Life would be so much easier if she could.
"It just-- bad afternoon," she says with a slight shrug and a sigh. "I'm sorry."
Gaila's mouth compresses into a soft line, rue and regret and sympathy written all over her face, and Nyota wonders what she did to deserve this person in her life, someone who sees the restlessness that lives inside her without being told, who understands her fractiousness and loves her in spite of it. "It's alright," Gaila says, her expression morphing into almost a smirk. "She wasn't that exciting anyway."
When she plops down in the booth across from Christine, fifteen minutes late, her friend stops with an onion ring half in her mouth, takes it out and puts it back down on her plate with a concerned expression. "Okay, come on, spill."
Nyota does, from the disaster with Spock to the awkwardness with Gaila. The humiliation of accidentally almost kissing your professor is easy to explain, but when she tries to talk about Gaila her train of thought goes off the rails. "I don't know, I just don't even know," she ends up saying, reaching for her cold burger to shut herself up.
"And you're a linguistics major, right?" Christine deadpans, snorting a laugh when Nyota raises both middle fingers in her direction.
"I just-- every time I think I'm comfortable with her, know her well or whatever, something happens that proves I don't get her. It's not even the sex thing-- she and Kirk could have a throwdown about who's bagged more of the students and probably come out even. She's just so..."
"Un-repressed?" Christine suggests, gesturing with another onion ring. It's too close to what Gaila herself had said, but before Nyota can protest Christine goes on. "Look, you're mad because you've got a-- a problem," she chooses the word quickly when Nyota raises an eyebrow at her, "and you're jealous it's so easy for her. That's like... it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out."
"You think I didn't get that far myself?" she shoots back. "I just don't understand why it makes me so mad. Jealousy I get-- I know what that feels like, you know? And... and yeah, alright, maybe I'm annoyed that I can't go after who I want. But this-- tonight, okay, I went in and she was with someone, I didn't even care who it was, or that I'd told her I was going to be gone all night. I was just mad about it." Mad that she was with someone at all, she thinks, and doesn't say.
Vocalizing it doesn't help. It is jealousy, but it's a bad kind, the kind Nyota knows because it's what she feels when she contemplates her crush on Spock-- it's the bitter twist in her stomach that says I want that, and I don't think I'll ever have it. It's ironic as hell. When it comes to her career, Nyota's not afraid of anything. But when it comes to getting what she wants from other people, emotions are a murky water she's never quite been able to convince herself isn't full of sharks.
Christine isn't as helpful as she could be. "You need to get laid," she says matter-of-factly. "And not by something with batteries." Nyota rolls her eyes, mumbles something unintelligible, hoping that covers up the fact that she knows her friend is right.
---
Nyota sleeps, but not as well as she would have liked. It's the weekend, which means campus is quieter than usual when she heads out for her run. She's tired, slow to start, and wishes she'd brought music. She could use something to spur her on, to keep her brain occupied.
She's ill-equipped to handle this, she realizes. Maybe it's karma, her personal life rearing its head now that her career is on track-- she doesn't know, and doesn't care. She's dangerously close to feeling overwhelmed.
Every time she thinks of Spock's face, the way he'd stood and practically herded her out the door of his office, that mortified flush starts crawling back up her neck, and she has the hysterical urge to shove her head under a pillow and scream. She's just thankful Gaila was out when she got back last night, so all she'd had to do was crawl between the covers and pass out.
She runs until she's exhausted, goes back to her room and collapses back into bed. When she wakes up, it's to Gaila singing in the shower. There's a sandwich and a bottle of juice on her bedside table, and she picks it up with a smile, closing her eyes for a moment of wordless thanks.
She's munching on the last of it and scrolling through the news reader on her padd when Gaila comes out of the bathroom, still humming. Nyota can't help the smile that creeps across her face. "Well?" she prompts, because she knows Gaila won't tell unless she asks, and good friends always know when to ask.
Gaila turns and grins, pulling on a blue shirt almost as vivid as her skin. "Very well," she corrects, waggling her eyebrows, watching satisfied as Nyota laughs. "You are too easy," she chides, tying the tie on her shorts and coming to sit on the end of Nyota's bed.
"Thanks for the sandwich," she says, gesturing with the empty plate as she puts it back on the table.
"You weren't at lunch, I figured you'd forgotten. You didn't sleep straight through?" she asks, concern suddenly drawing her expression tight.
Nyota shakes her head. "Nah. Went for a run and tired myself out again." She shrugs, looking down at her padd again though she's not really seeing what's on it. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I kind of put my foot in my mouth with Spock, and I just-- I wasn't myself." She looks up, forces a smile, which comes easier than she'd expected when Gaila reaches over to squeeze her hand.
"It's okay. I figured something was off-- you're not usually so--"
She pauses, and Nyota supplies, "Crazy?"
"That's not a bad word," Gaila admits, folding both hands over Nyota's. Her skin is still warm from her shower, and her hands are soft, but strong. Nyota's seen her in unarmed combat class, and knows the power in Gaila's body doesn't only lie in her curves. "But I forgive you," she goes on. "These things happen, and you are always so hard on yourself." She leans forward, and Nyota shuts her eyes, for a moment letting herself revel in the feel the pressure of Gaila's fingers on hers, the gentleness in the kiss she presses to Nyota's forehead, the sweet smell of her hair as it brushes Nyota's shoulder.
Then Gaila sits back, and is all smiles and mischief again. "Look, you need a distraction, yes? We have a date tonight with Christine and T'Lira, and I think they will agree you need to relax as well. So. Finish your reading, I will do my navigation homework, and then we will go and get drunk."
Hours later, as Nyota's knocking back her fifth Slusho (she still can't get any bartender to tell her what the hell is in them, but she thinks one of the ingredients must be drugs, because they are so good, though it's also possible their taste improves as her level of drunkenness increases) she has to admit, there are worse ways to spend a Saturday night.
The bar's crowded and raucous, and they're one of the loudest tables in the place. It's something of a ritual, listening to Christine's believe-it-or-not stories of late-night shifts in the Academy ER, made twice as hilarious by the impersonations she does of her hapless patients.
"So then I asked him how he got it stuck there in the first place, and he said, 'Nurse Chapel, you'd be surprised the number of problems a liberal application of butter can solve!'" she says dramatically in a stuffy nasal accent, and they all dissolve into laughter again (well, Nyota and Gaila laugh and T'Lira smiles, which is basically the same thing). Nyota laughs until it hurts, and only Gaila's hand on her shoulder draws her out of it.
"I'm going up to the bar," she says, glancing at the others before her eyes come back to rest on Nyota's. "Want another?"
"Not another Slusho," she says, ignoring Christine calling her a wus. "Just-- just beer, okay, whatever you're having." She sits back in her chair and wonders if she imagined Gaila's hand lingering on her shoulder as she walked away. She makes her eyes snap into focus as T'Lira starts to tell a story about her roommate, but then there's someone at her elbow, and--
"Hey ladies, how's it going?" says Jim Kirk, and McCoy at his shoulder mumbles something vague.
"Just when the evening was going well," she says with a snort, as Christine kicks her under the table.
"It's good, Jim, how's your evening? Both of yours, I mean," Chris adds, glancing at McCoy, and Nyota wonders if that's what people see on her face when she looks at Spock. If it is, it's a wonder no one ever explained to him what the phrase "mooning over" someone meant.
She looks up as Gaila returns with another tray full of drinks, including two shot glasses full of something bright pink. "Well, what do you know," she says in mock surprise. "It seems the bartender gave me two extra shots!" She puts one hand on her hip and points between Kirk and McCoy with a bemused, thoughtful expression, her eyes lingering warmly on Kirk the way they'd lingered on Nyota just minutes ago. "You guys wouldn't know anyone interested in taking these off our hands, would you?"
Jim's grin when he looks at Gaila is bright and soft. He really likes her, Nyota thinks, and isn't drunk enough to miss the ache she feels at the realization.
Abruptly she stands, turns and is a step away when she feels a hand on hers. She turns, meets Gaila's questioning look with a sheepish smile. "Bathroom," she says, gently disentangling her hand, trying not to wish she could hang on for longer.
She's halfway toward the bar before she realizes she has no idea where the bathroom actually is in this place. She veers toward a pair of girls she recognizes from her Operating and Tactical Systems class, thinking she can ask them, when she sees them looking over at her table, and pauses to listen to their conversation.
"...what he thinks he's gonna get out of her," one says scornfully.
"I just don't get why any guy would actually try to date her," says the other with a shrug. "I mean, he thinks he likes her, but it's all just hormones, right? I mean, why show your real personality when you can just make people fall for you by standing near them?"
Drunk as she is, Nyota doesn't think about what she's doing until she's standing in front of the two girls, hands on her hips with her chin up. By then she can tell, but only if she thinks about it, that her face is composed in a tight, furious expression that would probably do a Vulcan proud. "I know it's really cool and awesome to stand here and bitch about other people," she snaps, "but you should at least have the courtesy to do it about people you know. You don't know Gaila, obviously, because if you did you'd know how amazing she is. She's genuine and sweet and funny and smart, God," she snorts a laugh, "she's got to be way smarter than you two, you're seniors and you're just taking O and T now? Look, be catty if you want, I know I'm not going to stop you. But at least do me a favor and don't do it about my friend. Because I aced hand-to-hand combat and I'd be happy to get more convincing if you need me to."
Exhilarated, a second away from laughing, she turns around and bumps straight into Jim Kirk. His hands come up-- catching her shoulders, this time, and she stiffens, on her guard. They just stare at each other for a second, then he lets her go and steps back. "Just-- you went the wrong way," he says, one hand shoving into his pocket while the other thumb jerks over his shoulder. "Bathroom's that way. Other side of the bar."
"Oh," she says, feeling stupidly slow, her face on fire. How much did he hear? All of it, she asks and answers herself, seeing the awkwardness in his gaze, the way he looks hard at the other two girls before looking back to her. "Thanks," she says, happy to play ignorant if he'll let her. "I'll uh. Be right back."
Inside the bathroom she splashes cold water on her face, then turns and leans back against the counter, her eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling as the room spins gently around her and she wonders what the hell she's doing, pretending she's got everything under control when really it's exactly the opposite.
---
The next morning she wakes up and immediately wishes she hadn't. Everything still hurts, and worse, she has no memory of how she got home, or much of anything after telling off those two girls.
Kirk's face, though. She remembers that. He definitely overheard her, and he was definitely surprised by what he heard. Nyota doesn't know what to think about that. Was he surprised she intervened to strangers, or surprised she intervened on Gaila's behalf? She can't help wondering what Gaila tells other people about her, if the message is as mixed as the one she gives about Gaila.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the door to the room opens and Gaila walks in, carrying a bag of groceries and texting someone on her comm. She puts the bag down and Nyota sits up, shoving her hair back out of her face. "Hi," she mumbles, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.
"This is two days in a row I've returned to find you asleep," Gaila says softly, smiling. She reaches into the bag and pulls out a huge bottle of water, passing it to Nyota as she sits on the end of the bed. "Here."
"Thanks," she replies, uncapping it and taking a long drink. She lowers the bottle and sees Gaila's outstretched hand with two painkillers on her palm. "I tried to get Jim to get one of McCoy's hangover cure hypos," she says apologetically, "but he's all out."
She tries a smile on for size. "Thanks anyway. That's... that's very sweet."
Gaila shrugs, grinning. "That's me."
"I don't even remember coming back here," she confesses, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes.
"You were pretty wasted," Gaila says as she gets up, and it's funny how she always makes the most maudlin sentiments sound so cheerful. "Thank God T'Lira's not affected by alcohol; she mostly carried you back here. Jim walked with us to make sure you were okay; if anyone knows the line between drunk and in need of medical attention, it's him."
She's moving around the room now and Nyota is grateful she doesn't have to open her eyes yet; she just listens to the other girl's movements and waits for the throbbing in her temples to subside.
Finally Gaila comes back to sit on the end of the bed, and Nyota feels coolness against her hand. She opens her eyes; it's a wet washcloth for her face, and she scrubs at it gratefully. Gaila takes the opportunity to say quietly, "Jim told me what happened last night. With those girls."
She goes still, then drops her hands into her lap. She shrugs, nonchalant, and says, "Well, they were out of line."
"You didn't have to do it," Gaila says. "Especially not... not if you think they were right."
"What?" She draws back as if physically shoved, and her stomach lurches with anxiety. "I don't-- what makes you think that?"
"I don't think you think it all the time," Gaila says, matter-of-fact, no trace of hurt anywhere about her. "Just sometimes."
"I don't ever think it," Nyota insists, reaching for the other girl's hands with both of her own. She wonders how Gaila could ask that question, but the realization, the remembrance hits her that there was a time that wasn't so far off the mark. So she clarifies. "I don't ever think it anymore."
Gaila's eyes meet Nyota's, her eyes curious and her face drawn with something like longing, and Nyota's stomach lurches again. "What changed?" Gaila asks, and she doesn't have to hesitate before answering.
"I got to know you. Got to know you better than other people bother to." She realizes she's squeezing Gaila's hands, and makes herself relax, only to realize Gaila's squeezing hers back almost as hard. "I'm sorry," she says, the only thing she can think of, though there are a thousand other choices crowding her mind right now. Her throat feels dry, and she swallows.
"I didn't want to think that of you," Gaila says, "but I do find myself in the position of liking people more than they like me."
"No..." she trails off, mortified and amused as what comes out of her mouth next is, "I like you a lot. Really." Really? she scolds herself immediately. You sound like a middle-schooler with a crush. Which isn't as inaccurate as it could be, all things considered, but you're almost twenty years old and this is a little ridiculous.
Gaila doesn't seem to notice her agonizing; in fact, it seems to actually make her feel better. "Well good," she says, her smile small but genuine. "I would hate to have to tell Jim that he is right, and you don't have a heart at all," she adds, a teasing lilt to her voice, and the fist of tension around Nyota's heart unclenches.
She smiles back, but she's stuck on something Gaila said that doesn't make sense-- not when talking about Nyota, or anyone else she can think of. There's no one who doesn't take to Gaila like a fish to water once they stop and get to know her. "Why do you say that?" she asks. "That you like people more than they like you."
One shoulder hitches, and Gaila looks up and away, out the window, like she's seeing something invisible to everyone else. When she speaks it's slow, like this is the first time she's saying this out loud. "I wouldn't have gotten out of the Syndicate without help. And I had it from a bunch of people, some I barely knew, who maybe wanted out themselves and weren't brave enough to try, or people who just thought I deserved a shot. I owe them my life," she says, quietly serious, looking back to Nyota with eyes haunted by grief for the first time Nyota can ever remember.
Her next words are more firm, the weight of conviction behind them, a determination that sends a thrill up Nyota's spine. "Since then I've never let myself forget-- and I know it sounds cliche, but it's true-- how important it is to make connections-- to reach out to others, because you never know what they can teach you, or what you can teach them. Even if it doesn't last forever-- nothing does. It's better to go after what you want, to risk, than to stay stuck in one place forever. But most people here don't think that way."
There's a silence as the weight of Gaila's words sinks in, and then she shrugs again and adds, "That's why I'll never understand you humans and your attitude about sex. What can be so bad? You meet, you connect-- it's just a little pleasure, a way of knowing someone. It's not going to kill you." She grins then, the grave sorrow almost erased from her eyes. "Not that I think you need to learn that lesson more than everyone else I know, Nyota... just more than most people."
She stands, and Nyota looks up as Gaila's fingers brush her cheek, tipping her chin up. "You deserve to be happy. I think Spock will make you happy."
It feels like a benediction, and she smiles, full and sweet. "You make me happy," she tells her, and Gaila smiles back, her touch lingering on Nyota's cheek for a moment before she turns away.
---
At 2100 hours Nyota stands outside Spock's door with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, wondering if her decision to take Gaila's advice and run with it is going to mean running headfirst into expulsion from the Academy.
Still, she remembers better to go after what you want, to risk, and so before she can talk herself out of it she presses her thumb to the hail button.
There's a moment of silence that stretches on into a minute, and she's almost convinced herself that he's not there or not answering when the panel beeps and Spock's voice comes through. "Who is it?"
"It's-- Cadet Uhura," she says, and immediately winces at the strained formality. That's really going to imply I want a closer relationship with him, she thinks with a roll of her eyes.
"One moment," he says, and now her heart starts drumming in her chest, her throat feels tight and she has to clench her hands into fists and slowly relax them, forcing herself to calm down.
The door opens and before he can say anything she's talking. "I know I probably shouldn't have come, but I had to correct something I said to you on Friday." She ignores his stupid expressive eyebrows and plows on. "I said I was sorry, and I'm not. I'm not sorry at all that we almost kissed. I'm actually not sorry about anything, because I like you and I see no reason not to admit it, especially since you've given every indication you reciprocate. It isn't something I expected, but to deny its existence would be counterproductive to our tutoring sessions, and to the fact that we're also sort of friends. So unless you have some moral objection, I would like to suggest a--" and here she stops, searching for a better word and not finding one. "A do-over," she says, a lame finish to what had been a very logical argument a moment ago.
"A do-over," Spock repeats with a wry little smile. "A repeat of the events of Friday afternoon, but one that would not end in you fleeing my office."
A flush has slowly been working its way up her face, and even as it flames even brighter at his words she nods. "Exactly." She wants to say more, to say she gets that it's problematic because he's her teacher and superior officer, and they'll have to be careful; but she thought through all of the ways they can work around that on her way over here and she figures it can wait. The important thing is whether or not he's going to let her in the door. As Christine would say, everything else is gravy.
After a moment Spock stands back from the door. "I think it would be prudent to move out of the corridor," he says, and her stomach flips with anticipation but she gets through the door quick, like if she doesn't move fast enough she'll miss her chance.
The office is different at night; high up ambient lights give the room a soft glow, and the city outside the tall windows is alive with light and movement. Nyota turns, her pulse pounding in her ears, watching Spock move closer, then stop before he's close enough to touch. "You are certain?" he asks softly. "It is true of late I find myself less focused on our work, and more on the pleasure of your company. I admit my regard for you has become... it is more than friendship I want from you, Nyota," he says, and a rush of adrenaline heats her from the inside at the sound of her name. Oh, I'm a goner, she thinks, biting her lip and focusing on his words as he goes on, "Yet I would not wish to compromise what we have already, or to risk losing our acquaintance entirely."
She's quiet for a minute, just looking at him. It's true she wants him (does she ever), and true she'd be happier not changing anything if it meant losing his friendship entirely. But Nyota has always been an overachiever, and she decides then and there to have it all-- his respect and professional regard, and the right to lock the door and kiss him breathless if she feels like it. It's a dazzling prospect, and she wants it so badly it hurts.
"I think it's worth the risk," she says finally, tingling with nerves down to the tips of her fingers. "Do you?"
For an answer, Spock closes the distance between them with one hand on her shoulder and the other at the nape of her neck. Their mouths meet, tentative at first, then surer as her arms wind around his neck; his tongue brushes hers and she shivers, hears his quick-drawn breath, and holds on tighter.
---
She comes back well after midnight all but glowing with elation. Inside the room is dark, empty; Gaila's gone, which means she's probably got the room to herself til tomorrow. Nyota turns the lights up halfway and gets into her pajamas, moving dazed with a grin she couldn't get rid of if she tried.
She curls up in bed and reaches for her padd; when she taps the screen to turn it on she sees a note scrawled in familiar handwriting.
You've been gone two hours so I think it's safe to say YAY NYOTA!! I'm so proud of you!! I want all the details in the morning. ♥ G.
It's so artless, so intimate, so Gaila; it makes her smile again, the abundance of luck she's had since she let go control over the people who walked into her life and laid claims to her heart, and she slips down into sleep feeling nothing but bliss.
---
In the morning she runs, and as she crests the hill above the Academy and starts down toward it, she smiles and thinks to herself, I'm almost home.