Fic: A Perceived Necessity
Title: A Perceived Necessity
Author: featheredraven
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG
Warnings: Overuse of variants of the word 'logical'. Other than that, don't think any.
Logically, he thinks, it should do nothing, this thing known as kissing. The pressing of one's lips to those of another - especially in a species that cannot create a telepathic link through touch - it makes little sense as to how this action can produce an emotional or physical response of any sort. It is a curious thing, one that he has witnessed on campus many times - though he carefully averts his eyes from these public displays that can range from simple touches to things of a far more...graphic displays of affection.
He does not understand it.
His own experimentation, in fact, has only succeeded on further confusing him on the concept in general. The few kisses he has shared with several females during his years as a cadet at the academy could only be called unsatisfactory, being little more than a perceived necessity of any potentially romantic relationship. 'Potential', because none of the relationships lasted long and none moved into what might be called romantic territory, dissolving quickly due to a (mutual) lack of understanding, lack of interest, or, as one woman puts it, lack of chemistry. This is a phrase that he does not quite comprehend, as they did, in fact, attend the upper level inorganic chemistry lecture together. Upon stating this, she simply rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, telling him that, for all his apparent intelligence, his brain really was really lacking in something.
Chemistry, apparently. Or, possibly, hormones.
(When he points out the flaws in her logic, she simply rolls her eyes again, pats him lightly on the cheek, and tells him not to think on it too much before she saunters away.)
After that, things become far too busy for him to experiment further, his days becoming little more than thesis work, studying, and finals, before his first ship assignment as a science officer serving under Captain Pike fills any and all time that he could have used to try to understand this phenomenon. In fact, save for an incident on an unnamed planet half a year into that first assignment that was highly embarrassing to all parties involved, he has no even semi-romantic encounters with anyone for several years.
And then...well.
She is several years his junior, a graduate student at the academy, and at first he doesn't think much about her. She is highly intelligent, that much is for certain, and while she often times makes quite illogical comments, her approach to her studies can only be called logical. She is argumentative and doesn't back down when she believes she is right, not even when he lays out the most logically sound arguments that he can. More than once he finds himself lost for words when she asserts her opinion and, as illogical as it sounds, he finds that even logical fallacies, when coming from her, make him stop and consider the merit of her side of the argument.
When she, herself, points out a fallacy in his own speech (hasty generalization; honestly, are you losing your touch?) and smiles at him with that (stunning) smile of hers, he knows something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong, because as much as he tries, he cannot stop his heart from leaping around wildly inside his thoracic cavity when she smiles at him like that.
It is terribly unsettling.
When they conclude their discussion for the day, she waits outside the door to the office as he locks up for the night. When he bids her goodnight and turns with the intention of returning to his quarters, she reaches out and her fingers lightly catch at the fabric of his sleeve. When he pauses, startled, she steps forward and rises on her toes, pressing soft lips against his cheek.
"Thank you for the fascinating argument," she says, before she turns and walks away, the slightest sway in her hips, leaving him standing there, perfectly still, feeling as though he has received a mild electric shock.
It is less than any of the other kisses he has received, and yet far more than all of them combined. Blood rushes to his face, an unfamiliar sensation that intensifies the green undertones of his skin and leaves and an almost sick feeling that dances along his cheekbones, a feeling that is not entirely unpleasant. All he can do for some time is stand there, frozen, watching her as she disappears around the corner and out of sight. She doesn't glance back at him, and for that he is glad, because he is certain that, were she to see his face, she would be able to read every emotion that he tries to keep hidden.
He stands there as long as he dares, heart thumping wildly against his ribs, so fast that he is (illogically) certain that, were someone to walk past him at the moment, they would be able to hear it. There is something odd there as well, a sort of strange tightness in his heart that he can't identify.
It is unsettling, yet not unwelcome.
Perhaps, he thinks later, when the blood has subsided from his face and he is safely locked away in his quarters, the thing that was missing in all those previous relationships was simply that the other participant was not Nyota Uhura.
Author: featheredraven
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG
Warnings: Overuse of variants of the word 'logical'. Other than that, don't think any.
Logically, he thinks, it should do nothing, this thing known as kissing. The pressing of one's lips to those of another - especially in a species that cannot create a telepathic link through touch - it makes little sense as to how this action can produce an emotional or physical response of any sort. It is a curious thing, one that he has witnessed on campus many times - though he carefully averts his eyes from these public displays that can range from simple touches to things of a far more...graphic displays of affection.
He does not understand it.
His own experimentation, in fact, has only succeeded on further confusing him on the concept in general. The few kisses he has shared with several females during his years as a cadet at the academy could only be called unsatisfactory, being little more than a perceived necessity of any potentially romantic relationship. 'Potential', because none of the relationships lasted long and none moved into what might be called romantic territory, dissolving quickly due to a (mutual) lack of understanding, lack of interest, or, as one woman puts it, lack of chemistry. This is a phrase that he does not quite comprehend, as they did, in fact, attend the upper level inorganic chemistry lecture together. Upon stating this, she simply rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, telling him that, for all his apparent intelligence, his brain really was really lacking in something.
Chemistry, apparently. Or, possibly, hormones.
(When he points out the flaws in her logic, she simply rolls her eyes again, pats him lightly on the cheek, and tells him not to think on it too much before she saunters away.)
After that, things become far too busy for him to experiment further, his days becoming little more than thesis work, studying, and finals, before his first ship assignment as a science officer serving under Captain Pike fills any and all time that he could have used to try to understand this phenomenon. In fact, save for an incident on an unnamed planet half a year into that first assignment that was highly embarrassing to all parties involved, he has no even semi-romantic encounters with anyone for several years.
And then...well.
She is several years his junior, a graduate student at the academy, and at first he doesn't think much about her. She is highly intelligent, that much is for certain, and while she often times makes quite illogical comments, her approach to her studies can only be called logical. She is argumentative and doesn't back down when she believes she is right, not even when he lays out the most logically sound arguments that he can. More than once he finds himself lost for words when she asserts her opinion and, as illogical as it sounds, he finds that even logical fallacies, when coming from her, make him stop and consider the merit of her side of the argument.
When she, herself, points out a fallacy in his own speech (hasty generalization; honestly, are you losing your touch?) and smiles at him with that (stunning) smile of hers, he knows something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong, because as much as he tries, he cannot stop his heart from leaping around wildly inside his thoracic cavity when she smiles at him like that.
It is terribly unsettling.
When they conclude their discussion for the day, she waits outside the door to the office as he locks up for the night. When he bids her goodnight and turns with the intention of returning to his quarters, she reaches out and her fingers lightly catch at the fabric of his sleeve. When he pauses, startled, she steps forward and rises on her toes, pressing soft lips against his cheek.
"Thank you for the fascinating argument," she says, before she turns and walks away, the slightest sway in her hips, leaving him standing there, perfectly still, feeling as though he has received a mild electric shock.
It is less than any of the other kisses he has received, and yet far more than all of them combined. Blood rushes to his face, an unfamiliar sensation that intensifies the green undertones of his skin and leaves and an almost sick feeling that dances along his cheekbones, a feeling that is not entirely unpleasant. All he can do for some time is stand there, frozen, watching her as she disappears around the corner and out of sight. She doesn't glance back at him, and for that he is glad, because he is certain that, were she to see his face, she would be able to read every emotion that he tries to keep hidden.
He stands there as long as he dares, heart thumping wildly against his ribs, so fast that he is (illogically) certain that, were someone to walk past him at the moment, they would be able to hear it. There is something odd there as well, a sort of strange tightness in his heart that he can't identify.
It is unsettling, yet not unwelcome.
Perhaps, he thinks later, when the blood has subsided from his face and he is safely locked away in his quarters, the thing that was missing in all those previous relationships was simply that the other participant was not Nyota Uhura.