Anniversary Waltz, Chapter Two, PG-13
Title: Anniversary Waltz
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Kirk/Uhura
Disclaimer: Characters and canon belong to Paramount, Roddenberry, Abrams and many others but not me. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement intended and no profit is made by the author.
Summary: One year prior, the Enterprise had shipped out for its first mission under the official command of James T. Kirk and the young captain had deemed it a day worthy of recognition
Chapter Two
Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe, it was the company. But they talked and laughed for hours. He regaled her with tales of the exploits of his misspent youth. The gleam of suspicious amusement in her eyes made it obvious to him that Uhura doubted the truth of some of his stories.
“You did not!”
“I’m very sorry to say that I did.”
“How old were you?”
“Ten.”
“You stole a car when you were ten?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And yet, it’s true.”
“And you drove it off a cliff?”
Skepticism was laced through her words.
“Technically into the pit of an old quarry, but yeah, basically.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said for what had to be the tenth time that evening.
“I did.” He laid a hand over his heart. “I swear.”
She gave him a look of narrow-eyed mistrust.
“If you drove the car off a cliff, how is it that you’re still here?”
“I jumped out at the last second.”
“Now I know you’re lying,” she crowed. “You did not!”
“I did,” he insisted with a laugh. “I opened the door and jumped a split second before the car launched over the edge and into the ravine.
She studied his face for a long moment, looking for any sign that he was lying or stretching the truth. But the mischief that had been etched on his face all evening was gone. And though he was smiling, his expression was open and honest.
“Were you hurt?” she asked at length.
He gave a reflexive look at the palms of his hands which tingled with the sense memory of grappling desperately for purchase on the edge of the ravine as rocks and tiny stones tore gashes into his skin.
“I was a little scraped up, but I lived.”
He was stretched out comfortably on his back on the carpeted floor. Uhura was sitting next to him. He watched her face closely as she studied his. She usually maintained a great deal of self-control over her expression - in that way she was very like Spock. But she was unguarded tonight and he saw wonder, confusion and concern dance across her features in close succession.
“Why would you do something like that?” Bewilderment was evident in every syllable.
Kirk rolled his head against the carpet. A distant part of his mind noted that she had stripped off her leather boots at some point in the evening. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and the skirt of her dress had hitched up to reveal long shapely legs . His fingers itched to touch the silken skin and he gave his head a firm shake, forcing his attention back on her question.
“I was a deeply unhappy and angry kid,” he told her at last. “For most of my life, actually.”
She laid her cheek against her knees.
“Why?” she asked again softly though knowing his background it was not difficult to imagine.
His chest rose and fell on a long sigh. “I felt abandoned, I guess,” he said. “My father had died before I ever met him. My mother was stationed off planet a lot when I was a kid.”
“Who took care of you?”
“She remarried when I was around eight years old,” he said. “We lived with her husband, Frank.”
“We?”
“My brother, Sam - well, really George, Jr. - but we called him by his middle name, Sam.”
“What happened that day to make you steal the car?”
“Frank and Sam didn’t get along well,” he told her. “I think Frank loved my mother but he was definitely not father material. We made each other miserable except for when my mother was around to smooth things over.”
He shrugged. “Anyway, Sam and Frank had gotten into another screaming match that morning and I guess Sam had enough because he stuffed a bunch of things into a bag and told us that he was taking off. Frank was thrilled to see him go.”
“He left without you?”
“He just couldn’t take it any longer.” Kirk defended his brother. “He told me that he knew I’d be okay because I was always doing the right thing. Getting good grades and obeying all of Frank’s stupid orders. He said he couldn’t be a Kirk in that house and that he was leaving.”
He stared toward the ceiling caught up in his memories. “He was right. I was a rule follower back then and because I was, I started washing the car like Frank had ordered earlier that morning.” He shook his head back and forth. “But the whole time I was working on it, I kept going over the conversation I had with Sam. And I started wondering what it was to be a Kirk.”
He dragged his gaze away from his study of the ceiling and back to her face.
“The car had been one of my Dad’s prized possessions. A vintage 20th century Corvette. A classic painted a candy apple red with a white vinyl convertible top. And Frank drove it around like he owned the damned thing. I began to think that maybe being a Kirk meant being defiant. Like my father was when he stood up to Nero, keeping his focus fixed on the Kelvin and away from the fleeing shuttlecraft. Or like Sam - walking out of the door at the age of thirteen rather than to take any more crap from our stepfather.”
He gave her a smile. “I thought - well, I never knew him, but I’m George Kirk’s son too - so I grabbed the keys and decided to take the car out for a joyride. Frank almost busted a gut when he realized what I had done. I can still remember the sound of his voice over the car’s audio system screaming at me to bring the car back and describing what kind of trouble I’d be in if I got so much as a scratch on it. I admit that I was pretty scared - so I cut him off and flipped the music on.”
Now an almost beatific look came over his face.
“I will never forget the way that car was vibrating - all the growling power of that 20th century engine - and the pounding pulse of the music.” His eyes were alight with the memory. “I decided to take the roof down, but I guess I was going so fast, the wind ripped it right off and I thought - ‘in for a penny.’”
She gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
“Well, with the roof bouncing around in the dirt behind me, the car had more than a single scratch on it at that point, didn’t it? I was already in for a load of trouble so I figured I might as well just have fun while I could,” he told her. “I went flying past Sam as he trudged down the road. The look of shock on his face as I blew past him…. oh boy. It felt great to surprise him. I wanted to yell “See? I’m a Kirk too!’”
“So… what? You thought you could impress him even more by driving the car off a cliff?” she asked dubiously.
He laughed. “No. That was never part of the plan. A cop on a hover bike came zooming along and tried to pull me over. But I wasn’t ready for the ride to end so I whipped the wheel the other direction and took off.”
“You ran from the law?” Disbelief colored her voice.
“I did.” His bright laugh rang out with the pulse-pounding memory. “But the road I had pulled onto led to the old quarry and next thing I knew I had smashed through the gates with the cop in hot pursuit. Before I knew it, the edge of the ravine was coming up fast. There wasn’t time to stop so I hit the brakes, flung the door open and jumped just as it went sailing over the edge.”
“Oh my God! You’re lucky you weren’t killed!” she exclaimed. “What happened then?”
“I pulled myself to my feet.” He left out the part where he had dangled for dangerous seconds over the edge of the ravine. “When the cop asked me for my name, I just remember bellowing out ‘My name is James Tiberius Kirk’ and deciding then and there - that feeling - must be what it meant to be a Kirk.”
“I can’t imagine what kind of trouble there was to pay,” she murmured with a frown.
He shrugged. “You don’t want to know. But I didn’t care. What good had all the rule following ever done me? The thrill and exhilaration of that ride stayed with me for a long time. I spent most of the rest of my life trying to recapture that feeling.”
“And did you?”
“Yeah. Finally. In the one place I had never thought to look.”
“Where?”
“Starfleet,” he said with a wry smile. “I had spent years hating Starfleet. I entered the Academy on a dare from Pike and wound up loving it. I realized that most of the poor decisions I had made in my life were rooted in the fact that I was simply bored. Bored in school. Bored with a life stuck on a farm in the middle of nothing - waiting for an absent mother, a missing brother and a long-dead father to come back for me. But at the Academy I finally found myself challenged. My classes were interesting. My instructors were demanding. And when I went into space on my first training mission, I understood what drew my mother away from home time and again. And I understood what drove my father to make the sacrifice he had made.”
“You’ve found a home here,” she murmured.
His face lit up. “Yeah. I have.”
“I’m glad.”
They lapsed into a companionable silence for several long minutes.
“Tell me something else.” Uhura broke the quiet.
He grinned. “More stories of my squandered past? My wastrel youth? I’m afraid that what little respect I might have earned from you in this last year will be utterly destroyed after tonight.”
Her hip brushed against his ribs as she shifted closer. “Tell me something that isn’t a line,” she said. “Tell me one more thing. A truth about you that you’ve never told anyone else.”
The laughter faded from his expression. He could see that she was earnest. He thought of and discarded any number of things he could tell her - more stories about stupid pranks and childish antics. Things he had never told anyone, but things that were not, he knew, what she wanted to hear. He looked up and made his confession.
“I have never blown out the candles on a birthday cake.”
She made a scoffing noise in her throat. “If you’re not going to take me seriously…” She shifted as if to rise and his hand shot out to stop her.
“I am serious.”
She stared at him as she tried to gauge his sincerity. The mischief which had danced in his eyes all evening was gone leaving them a quiet blue. She stretched out on the floor next to him and propping herself on one elbow, she rested her head against a loosely fisted hand. In her dark eyes, he saw curiosity mingled with concern.
“I was probably five years old when I realized that I was always given my gifts a few days before or after my birthday,” he told her. “When I asked my mother why, she didn’t answer, but I remember instant remorse for making her so sad. My brother swatted me on the back of the head and told me that we couldn’t have cake and a party on the day that our dad had died.”
He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “You know, even though I had heard the story of my birth and how my father had saved my mother and me, I never really connected the two things until that moment.”
Tears brightened Uhura’s eyes.
“Hey,” he protested. “Don’t.” He reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t tell you that to make you sad.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise - it wasn’t some kind of Dickensian childhood,” he told her. “There were always birthday gifts and the years when she was home, my mother would cook my favorite meal for me - just like she did for Sam before he left. I never for a moment doubted her love. I just wanted more of her than she was able to give.”
He could see censure for his mother’s parenting in Uhura’s expression.
“I spent a lot of years resenting her,” he admitted. “Mostly because she wasn’t always around when I wanted her. And when she was around... I don’t know. I guess a lot of times she didn’t know what to make of me. I gave her a lot of grief growing up.”
The defeated expression on his mother’s face whenever she was confronted with his misdeeds flashed across his memory.
“It wasn’t until I got to the Academy that I finally came to understand her.”
“What was it about the Academy that helped you?” she wondered curiously.
“I read Pike’s dissertation on the Kelvin,” he told her. “Suddenly I had access to information I had never had before. I read everything I could get my hands on. Listened to all of the recordings of the transmissions from the shuttles as they escaped the ship and I came across one between my parents.”
He spoke softly of the things he had heard. Of the terror in his mother’s voice at the realization that her husband would not be joining her in the escape shuttle. Of the chaotic mingling of the sounds of volleys of fire from the Kelvin’s phaser turrets and torpedo bays and of the concussion of multiple small explosions on its bridge. Of medical personnel exhorting his mother to push. He spoke of his mother’s cries of pain as she labored to bring her child into the universe and of her pleading screams for the child’s father. He recalled the Kelvin’s computer issuing damage reports and cascading system failures and signaling the impact alert. And of how that cacophony of sounds was layered over the relentless wailing of the Kelvin’s red alert klaxon.
He did not see the spasm of horror which distorted her lovely features when he told her that he had listened to the recording multiple times in an effort to understand how those short moments had transformed a life that should have been, into the life that was.
Dragging his gaze away from the ceiling, he chanced looking at Uhura and saw that her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“She watched her husband die,” he told her. “And after hearing that recording, hearing the pain in their voices as they said their goodbyes, I realized that at the very moment when my mother should have felt most alive and powerful as a woman, her heart was shattered. I understood then that she had never truly recovered. And I stopped blaming her.”
After a prolonged silence, he huffed out a hoarse chuckle. “You got a two-fer,” he told her with a wry grimace.
“Pardon?” she asked in a choked voice.
“That’s two stories I’ve never told anyone else.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” he said. “Everything turned out in the end.”
She stretched toward him and touched her lips to his in a gesture of comfort from one human to another.
She surprised him when she kissed him again - this time a kiss of gentle curiosity.
But she surprised herself when she cupped his face in her hand and lowered her mouth to his a third time in a caress that was sweetly lingering.
He pulled away and blinked in a dazed fashion.
“Why did you kiss me?” he asked in a rough voice. “I don’t want your pity.”
She propped herself up on his chest. “I’m sorry for the things you and your family have suffered,” she told him. “But I didn’t kiss you because I pity you.”
“Then why?” he asked edgily. “Up until tonight, you’ve never seemed interested.”
“Maybe that’s because you finally came out from behind the brash persona you like to hide behind. You made me laugh tonight - a lot - and funny is sexy. And you let me see that you have hidden depths - and sensitive is also sexy.”
He couldn’t hide the grimace that drew his brows together at being described as sensitive and she grinned in response.
“Also, in the spirit of truth-telling I’ll confess that I think you look particularly hot tonight.”
“Yeah?” He perked up at her admission.
“Mmm-hmm.” She gave him a conspirator’s smile. “You’re an attractive man, Captain.”
He tried for a look of modesty and she laughed.
“A fact of which you’re well aware,” she noted.
“You’ve managed to resist so far,” he pouted.
“I know. But apparently I have no defense against the t-shirt and jeans look.”
He levered up slightly to look at his scruffy clothing with new interest.
“Yeah?” he asked doubtfully. Apparently he was missing something.
“Trust me.” She swept an appreciative glance over the faded t-shirt stretched across his leanly muscled chest and down length of the jeans which were soft and worn white at the stress points and other interesting places.
“So. I’m hot, huh?”
“Smoking,” she sighed with not a little reluctance.
An enormous grin spread across his face and his eyebrows bobbed up and down suggestively. She groaned and laughed.
“I cannot believe I’m feeding your enormous ego.”
“You could probably think of a way to shut me up,” he suggested slyly.
She gave him a pitying look.
He heaved a much put-upon groan. “Well, far be it from me to deny you your greatest desire.” He flung his arms out to his sides, screwed his eyes closed like a toddler and twisted his lips into an exaggerated pucker - a willing sacrificial lamb on the altar of love.
“Sooo sexy,” she sighed theatrically as she obediently leaned down to peck her lips to his in a loud, smacking kiss. His eyes popped open and they dissolved into laughter. She ruffled her hand through his thick hair, pleased by the return of a more light-hearted mood.
He skimmed the backs of his knuckles over the curve of her cheekbone and once again she succumbed to the urge to kiss him. Her mouth was a breath away from his when he turned his head and instead traced his lips in a leisurely path over the line of her jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the frantic pulse fluttering in her throat. She shivered and tipped her head to one side and he obliged her open invitation by scraping his teeth over the exposed curve of her neck.
She shifted closer.
“Kiss me.” Her groaning words vibrated against his mouth as it traced a heated path over the long column of her throat.
And so he did. He drew her down until she was stretched atop the length of his body. Her hair cascaded forward enveloping them in an ebony waterfall. And in that silken cocoon, he kissed her.
Slowly. Gently. Patiently. He kissed her.
His mouth moved against hers. Tasting. Sipping. Savoring.
His teeth nipped at the plump fullness of her lower lip, his tongue plunging inside to tangle with hers.
She melted against him, sinking into the kiss even as her fingers delved into his hair. She squirmed, trying to get closer and he tore his mouth from hers with a groan.
“God!” he rasped. And burying his face against her throat, he rolled them both, pinning her to the floor with his weight. His hands slid with rough impatience over her ribs, cupping her breasts through the soft material of her dress, skimming across the smooth skin of her thighs as he lay cradled between them. He pressed his hips to hers and her name escaped him on a rough sound of need.
Her head was spinning with want - for him. It was wrong a voice whispered slyly in her head.
His hips bucked against hers, their clothing the only thing keeping them from taking what they wanted. Fire leapt in her belly and she surged against him, dragging his mouth back to hers.
Wrong, the voice whispered again.
The realization of that washed over her like a bucket of cold water and she gasped. Pressing her hands to his shoulders, she tore her mouth from his.
“Stop.” She shoved against his shoulders. “Stop.”
He reared back, confusion marring his handsome features, and she scrambled out from beneath him.
“What…” He cleared his throat. “What’s wrong?” he rasped. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She jumped to her feet.
“I should go.” She smoothed shaking hands over her tangled hair and tugged the hem of her skirt which had become rucked high up on her thighs.
“Wait.” He climbed to his feet. “Uhura. Stop.” He reached for her hands but she snatched them away and hid them behind her back.
“No. I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” She looked around frantically for her boots. Where were they? she thought feverishly.
“Talk to me,” he pleaded. “Come on. Just… stop and talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Was that the heel of her boot sticking out from beneath the sofa? She dropped to her knees and dug them out with trembling hands. Standing again, she clutched them protectively against her chest.
“We made a mistake,” she told him. “We had too much to drink and we made a mistake.” She shook her head and tried to smile. “It’s okay though. We came to our senses and stopped in time.” She closed her eyes. “It’s okay,” she whispered as if reassuring herself.
“Tequila makes me stupid,” she confessed.
“Don’t.” She startled at the sound of his angry growl and opened her eyes. “Just… don’t.” His jaw was rigid with barely contained fury. “You’re entitled to change your mind,” he said in a tight voice. “But don’t lie to me or to yourself.”
“I… I don’t know what you’re -”
“Yes, you do,” he snarled. “If you want to change your mind, fine,” he said again. “But it’s been hours since our last drink,” he reminded her. “Don’t pretend that that,” he stabbed a finger toward the floor where they had been lounging, laughing, loving, “had anything to do with alcohol.”
He took a step forward - so close their bodies were almost touching. “We wanted each other, plain and simple.”
She hugged her boots more tightly to her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right but…”
“But, what?” His voice was soft, all traces of anger gone.
“I don’t want to want you,” she admitted in a rush.
“Why?”
“For one thing, you’re my commanding officer.” She pointed out the seemingly obvious.
“Spock outranks you too. Is that why you ended your relationship with him?”
She closed her eyes. “No,” she admitted. “We just realized that we probably made better friends than we did lovers.”
“Hmm.” He paced away from her. “But in our case, my rank is an obstacle.”
She stiffened. “I believe a one-night stand with my captain would be a bad idea, yes.”
“A one-night… Is that all it has to be?”
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “Are you honestly saying that you want something more than that?”
“Obviously you find that difficult to believe.” He cocked his head to one side. “Why is that?”
“Because you’re… you’re Jim Kirk!”
“Ahh. I’ve got a girl in every port, huh?”
She dropped her gaze, unnerved by the trace of hurt in his voice. “You’re not exactly known for your lengthy relationships,” she mumbled.
“No.” He folded his arms across his chest defensively. “But then again, most of the stories about me are exaggerations.”
She shot him a look rife with disbelief.
“Even men can be saddled with an unearned reputation,” he said mildly.
She said nothing, though her skepticism was plainly expressed on her face.
“I like women.” He sat on the arm of the sofa and looked up at her. “I don’t pretend otherwise. I like pretty much everything about them.”
Uhura barely managed to suppress the unladylike snort which threatened to escape and settled for rolling her eyes instead.
He ignored her.
“But I don’t go out with every woman I meet and I don’t sleep with every woman I date.”
She stared at him in continued silence.
“Come on, Uhura,” he sighed. “We’ve been working together in fairly close quarters for a year now,” he pointed out. “How many women have you seen me with?”
“Fine,” she muttered grudgingly. “So you’ve managed to exercise some restraint since taking command. What about at the Academy?”
“What about it?”
“You were constantly surrounded by women. I’m surprised you ever found time to study or attend class.”
“I have a lot of friends,” he said. “Most people like me.”
An awkward silence fell between them.
“I thought you were beginning to like me,” he said at last. “Was I misreading things? I don’t know… I guess I thought I had started to earn your respect. I thought we were friends. Especially tonight.”
He hunched forward and scrubbed his hands over his face. “But maybe you were right.” He peeped at her over the tips of his fingers. “Maybe it was just the booze.”
She felt an ache in her chest as if an invisible hand had wrapped itself around her heart. “No. I lied. I kissed you because I wanted to. It had nothing to do with tequila.”
She loosened her grip on her boots and let them fall to the floor with a dull thud. Gathering her courage she paced toward him, stopping when she was just beyond his reach.
“But I don’t understand.” She toyed with a lock of her hair, betraying her nervousness. “Why the sudden interest?”
“It’s not sudden.” His lips twisted in a self-mocking smile. “And if you had been paying an iota of attention these last four years you would know that.”
Not knowing what to say in response to his confession, she remained silent.
“Do you want to know why?” he asked softly. “I could tell you you’re beautiful.”
Her head jerked impatiently.
He shrugged. “It’s true. It’s certainly what caught my eye in that bar the first time I saw you. But you’re also courageous, intelligent, empathetic, fiercely loyal and you have a sarcastic sense of humor which I enjoy.”
She shrugged, refusing to yield to an array of pretty compliments. “Qualities I’d dare say that you can find in any number of women,” she said in defense of her sex.
“But I think it’s mostly your eyes.”
“My…”
“Yeah. You have these big, dark, doe-like eyes that reflect your every thought and emotion. Granted I’m used to mostly seeing poorly concealed irritation and exasperation when you look at me. But lately - and especially tonight - I’ve seen affection… and pleasure.”
Though he suspected she was wholly unaware of it, he could see the wariness begin to fade from her eyes, her expression now growing warm and soft and open.
“Do you?” He stretched out and caught the tips of her fingers with his, drawing her closer to his perch on the arm of the sofa. “Do you feel those things when you’re with me?”
“You mean irritated affection and exasperated pleasure?” A tiny grin flirted with the edges of her lips.
“Yeah.” His body brushed hers as he rose to his feet.
She affixed her gaze on the faded logo on his shirt.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then, what do you say? Do you want to take a chance with me?”
“And when it ends?” she asked. “Then what? I’ll be the one on the losing end, looking for a new post on another starship.”
“Never,” he vowed. “As long as I’m her captain, you’ll always have a place on the Enterprise. I promise.” He touched two fingers to her chin, tipping her face up to his.
“And why do you automatically assume this will end badly?”
The aforementioned exasperation was plain to read in her eyes.
“You aren’t really known for your lengthy relationships,” she pointed out again. “And the one time I tried, well… you know how that ended.”
“Yes. In friendship,” he countered.
He slowly eased his arms around her, drawing her into a loose embrace and rested his chin on the crown of her head. “I have known since the day I was born that it’s foolish for two people to promise to stay together forever. But I can tell you that you are the only woman I’ve ever met who makes me want to try.”
Her breath escaped her on a long, shuddering sigh and she wound her arms around him and nestled her cheek against his broad chest.
“Stay,” he whispered into her hair. “Stay with me tonight.” He felt her jolt and tightened his arms around her.
“I don’t… I should go back…”
“Nothing has to happen,” he murmured against her temple. “But I would like it very much if you would stay for what’s left of the night.” He waited a beat. “Please.”
He was sure that he could almost hear the gears in her brain turning and he held his breath in anticipation of her rejection.
“Okay.” She tipped her head back to look up at him.
“Yeah?”
She felt warmth spread through her at the sight of the smile that lit up his handsome face.
“Yeah.” She noticed then that at some point he had waltzed them across the room so that they were now standing near the divider that separated the living space from his sleeping quarters.
“Just to sleep,” she warned.
He raised his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch and let out a mighty yawn.
“I’m beat,” he said. “Sounds good.”
She glanced down at her dress. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
He crossed his arms in front of his body and grasped the hem of his t-shirt with both hands. Raising his arms, he stripped the shirt over his head and held it out. Her breath caught in her throat and she ignored his offering and reached out instead to touch him. His skin was hot and stretched tightly over his muscled torso. She pressed her palms against his pectoral muscles and felt the thudding beat of his heart, the defined ridges of his abdominal muscles and the shudder that raced through him as she traced a solitary finger along the path of his oblique to the point where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.
“God!” His hand shot out to grab her wrist. “You’re going to need to stop that if you don’t want this go any further tonight,” he warned.
She looked up and he could see heady delight in her own power warring with her instinctive sense of caution. Her hands fell to her sides as caution won and he worked hard to hide his disappointment. Wordlessly, he once again held the shirt out to her. He waited until she had disappeared into the bathroom before letting his head fall against the wall with an audible thud.
“Damn.” He rubbed his hands over his face and fought his own battle for self-control. Another shudder wracked his body and he pushed away from the wall, snatching a pair of sleeping pants from the low bureau tucked in one corner of the room and ordered the lights to dim.
He had managed to lock down his desires enough so that was sitting with loose-limbed comfort on one side of the bed when she emerged from the bathroom and he was caught off guard by her appearance. She was so vibrant of nature that he often forgot how petite she was in form. Dwarfed by his t-shirt, he was struck suddenly by her delicacy. The hem of the shirt hung low, hiding more of her legs than the skirt of her uniform and the shoulder seams sagged onto the upper part of her arms. He would have thought her a waif dressed in an adult’s clothing were it not for the fact that the worn cotton somehow managed to hide and highlight her body as the soft cloth molded itself to all the right places. And again he felt desire ripple along his spine.
Uhura sucked in a deep breath. Pretending a calm she didn’t feel, she crossed the room to slide under the covers he had folded down invitingly. They lay stiffly on their backs and she clutched the blanket to her breasts and squeezed her eyes closed. She was convinced that this was a terrible decision and was wondering frantically how to escape when he shifted onto his side. Aware of his gaze on her, she obliged his unspoken request and rolled to face him.
They stared at one another for a long moment and she waited for him to speak. Instead, he reached down and cupped the back of her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He drew their joined hands up to his chest and brushed his lips against her forehead.
“Good night,” he whispered before ordering the lights off.
She lay in the darkness, listening to the deepening sound of his breathing as he slid into sleep. The lazy beat of his heart beneath her palm and the even rise and fall of his chest lulled her and she shifted closer until, cuddled against his warmth, she slept.
TBC
A/N: One more chapter which may - in all likelihood - increase somewhat in rating. Please note.