Fic: "Human Relationships: Mating Rituals" 2/?
Fandom: Star Trek 2009
Title: Human Relationships: Mating Rituals, 2/?
Characters/Pairings: Spock/T'Pring, Spock/Uhura, Sarek, Amanda
Rating: PG (this ch., R eventually)
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: Spock discovers that navigating a relationship with a Human woman is more complicated than he expected. Particularly since the Human woman in question is still a cadet, and Spock has a Vulcan fiancée waiting in the wings.
Author's Note: Thanks as ever to my beta reader, mrstater. Chapter 1.
Chapter Two
Not long after Spock's bonding to T'Pring he became curious about the differences between Vulcan and Human mating rituals. From what he knew of his parents' history, their union must certainly have developed out of the latter rather than the former. He wished for more information on the matter, but not wanting to trouble his father with such a trivial inquiry, he asked his mother instead.
"How did we mate?" She blinked at him in surprise from across the counter where they were folding the laundry together. "Are you asking how your father and I met and decided to marry?"
"Affirmative. I would like to better understand the difference between Human and Vulcan mating rituals." He smoothed the legs of a pair of trousers into a crisp crease before folding them in perfect thirds.
"Well… That subject can be complicated." Amanda began loosely folding a sweater into a disorderly arrangement as she thought. The corners of Spock's mouth turned down. Amanda rolled her eyes at him and then shook the sweater back out to start over again.
"Let me start with the story of how I met your father." She smoothed each sleeve of the sweater in a careful diagonal across its back. "I was teaching Vulcan language and culture at a high school in San Francisco. You probably remember that I was a teacher."
Spock remembered perfectly well--it was illogical of her to presume that he would not.
"Anyway, I went out of my way to attend any and all Vulcan cultural and artistic events that I could. And in the process I got to be friends with a young Vulcan woman who worked as one of the household secretaries for the Vulcan Ambassador, who was, of course, your father."
Spock wondered if he should have asked his mother to write down her memories. She always expressed herself with greater clarity in text than in speech.
"So," she continued, moving on to another sweater, "I asked this friend of mine to help arrange a field trip for some of my top students. She and one of the Embassy chefs were going to host an authentic Vulcan meal along with a few lectures on Vulcan daily life. Well, when Sarek found out what was happening he sent me a message demanding to review my curriculum and credentials before he would allow the event to proceed."
She laughed to herself, though Spock failed to see the humor in her anecdote.
"So I messaged him right back, saying that his employees were free to do whatever they wanted in their free time, and that he should be proud of them for providing a valuable educational opportunity for local Human students, and that if he wanted my credentials and curriculum he would have to ask my boss."
Again she laughed, and shook her head. "And he did. The principal called me minutes later, looking positively terrified, and suggested that I either give up on my field trip or send the Ambassador what he wanted. So I sent him what he wanted. And my curriculum must have impressed him because he turned the field trip into an official embassy event and gave the keynote lecture himself. The whole thing went so well that he started hosting one field trip for my students every semester."
Though she continued to fold the laundry, Amanda's eyes no longer seemed focused on the task at hand, and her voice grew softer. Spock believed the behaviors to be signs of emotional reactions to her reminiscence.
"After the third of those field trips your father and I started to run into each other at some of those cultural and artistic events that I told you about, and we became friends. We started arranging to spend time together socially."
Her hands ceased moving altogether as her thoughts appeared to turn entirely inward. "After five years like that, I was offered a job by an old friend in Washington State. She wanted me to coordinate the Vulcan language and culture curriculum and instruction for the entire state. The opportunity seemed too good to pass up. I was ready to accept the job when I told Sarek about it."
Her smile broadened. "He found the idea of losing my regular company to be extremely disagreeable. So he offered me an alternative--he proposed marriage. And, after thinking about it for a few weeks, I accepted."
She looked up to catch Spock's eye. "He didn't like that I kept him waiting that long. But it was a very big decision."
"Indeed." Spock finished folding the last pair of trousers. "So, am I to gather from your story that Human mating rituals are composed primarily of regular social interaction with friends that result in a determination of mutual compatibility followed by a proposal of marriage?"
Amanda went back to folding another sweater. "Hmmm. More or less."
Spock found her answer highly unsatisfactory.
***
After two weeks, the fall semester is progressing well. There are several very promising students in Spock's latest phonology class, though his interspecies ethics students are somewhat disappointing. There are moments when Spock doubts the qualifications of the Admissions personnel.
The most satisfying part of the new semester, however, is Nyota's return. Every weekday beginning at 0800 hours she spends an hour working with him, and then returns in the afternoon for two to four hours, depending on her daily class schedule. He finds that when he is able to discuss his projects and ideas with her as they work his productivity increases by more than four percent--an unlikely, but welcome, outcome.
This year she has been wearing her hair pulled up into a high, tight ponytail. When she is engrossed in her work he often turns his gaze to her work station, where she sits with her back and a small portion of her profile facing him. He studies the slenderness of her neck, and the soft curve of her ears. His mother often covered her neck and head with scarves, and Spock never felt the desire to examine the features of any of his other Human friends at length, so this is the first time he has seriously analyzed the minute physiological differences between Human and Vulcan heads. The differences are subtle, yet profound. He never tires of studying Nyota's features.
On the eleventh school day of the new semester Nyota seems tired and slightly distracted when she arrives for her morning work session. Twenty minutes after the hour a distinct rumbling sound--which Spock recognizes as a physiological indication of hunger--emerges from her abdomen.
He glances at her. "Nyota, was your morning nourishment insufficient today?"
She sighs and forces a smile. "I haven't had anything to eat yet."
He raises an eyebrow. "It is improper for you to skip meals. Such actions lead to fatigue and decrease your mental acuity."
"I know." She rolls her eyes in an expression that she once explained is indicative of good-natured exasperation. "I'm still trying to figure out how to fit everything into my new schedule this semester, that's all. For the first two weeks I couldn't find a good time to exercise, so I finally decided I'd have to do it first thing in the morning. But by the time I was done working out today I had barely enough time to shower and get dressed before coming here. Don't worry--I'll grab coffee and a pastry at the coffee stand outside before going to my first class."
"Hmmm." His lips tighten, and he turns back to his console.
"Let me guess," she says. "You don't approve of my coffee stand breakfast?"
"Such a meal lacks essential nutrients." He does not meet her eyes, instead focusing on the code he is programming for a new intra-Academy communications database. "A truly nourishing breakfast would include a source of protein, and contain significantly less sugar than the pastries you typically consume."
"Well, this is what works for me."
Now he does turn to look at her again. She is facing her console, marking quizzes from his most recent phonology class.
"Do you intend to make this schedule, and this inadequate breakfast, habitual?"
"Yes. I do." Though most of her features are neutral, he can see the faintest upward curve at the edge of her lips.
"Hmmm." He swivels back to his work, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind.
The next morning, Spock waits with greater eagerness than he should for Nyota's arrival.
She enters with her customary greeting, and strides to her work station. Instead of sitting, she lets her bag slide from her shoulder to the desktop and stares down at what sits on the desk in front of her chair. It is a large coffee, a whole grain bagel, and a container of protein-enriched yogurt.
A bright smile spreads across her face as she turns to look at him. The corners of his mouth twitch upward.
"I was uncertain of which additions you prefer in your coffee or of which spreads you prefer on your bagel, so I provided an assortment," he said.
"I see that." She continues to smile as she pulls out her chair, arranges her green pillow, and sits. She adds two packets of creamer and one tablet of sweetener to her coffee, and spreads butter and blueberry jam on her bagel. Spock makes a mental note of her choices for future reference.
"Thank you for this," she says as she finishes spreading the jam on her bagel. "It was very sweet of you."
"Sweet?" Only his mother has ever called him sweet. "I do not see how the term applies. As your superior officer, it is my duty to see to it that you remain healthy enough to perform your duties to the best of your abilities."
She narrows her eyes and takes a sip of her coffee. "Whatever you say, Commander."
"I trust the breakfast will not interfere with your ability to complete this morning's marking?"
She takes a bite of the bagel and shakes her head. After she swallows, she says, "I'm sure I'll finish just fine."
"Excellent."
Near the end of the hour, all that remains of her breakfast is a few crumbs of her bagel. She brushes them into her now-empty coffee cup and carries her trash over to the recycling chute.
She turns to meet his eyes. "I do appreciate the gesture, but you really didn't have to get breakfast for me. You don't plan on doing this again tomorrow, do you?"
As is so often the case, her thoughts are indiscernible behind her gentle expression. He studies her for a moment longer before responding. "It pleases me to assist you with your efforts to arrange your schedule in a satisfying fashion. If providing you with a healthful breakfast will be beneficial to you, then I ask you to please allow me to continue."
She seems to be studying his expression as intently as he is studying hers. Finally, she takes a deep breath. "Okay. It was very helpful. But I'll only let you continue on one condition."
"And that is?"
"From now on, you need to let me treat you at our regular Thursday lunch. To pay you back."
Her face is firm, and though he feels no need for remuneration, he sees that she is determined. "Very well." He nods. "I accept your condition."
A smile returns to her face. "Good."
Spock continues to bring her coffee and breakfast every morning. And she continues to pay for lunch every Thursday. But when they go to dinner, or to concerts, or art exhibits, they take turns paying. It is their system, and it works for them. As long as they keep their accounts balanced, everything makes sense.
***
T'Pring did not enjoy the selection of jazz that Spock sent her, so he sends her another selection of Earth music that he suspects will be more suitable to her tastes.
When he initiates communications for their weekly conversation, he is curious to see if he chose correctly.
When Spock asks her what she thought of the music, she replies, "These pieces were very acceptable. Some of them were almost Vulcan. I found the works of Bach particularly agreeable."
Spock has always enjoyed Bach very much, and the corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. He has finally found something he can share with T'Pring.
They spend most of their thirty minutes discussing the Bach selections that he sent her, and comparing them to relevant Vulcan compositions. Before bidding farewell, Spock agrees to send T'Pring recordings of Bach's entire body of work.
Spock feels well satisfied when they end their communication. It was the most pleasing conversation he has ever had with T'Pring.
***
On a warm evening in early November, Spock and Nyota go to dinner at a restaurant near the Aquatic Park beach. They both have sourdough bread-bowls filled with soup--Nyota chooses the classic clam chowder, while Spock selects the vegetarian cauliflower-cheese soup. Spock pays.
After they eat, they stroll along the bustling beach, chatting.
"I finally got to the tenth-century composers on that data-chip you gave me," Nyota says, referring to the collection of Vulcan music he gave her last Christmas. "The lute solos by Tybaz are amazing. They absolutely take my breath away."
"Tybaz is one of my favorites," replies Spock. "I am currently learning his twenty-eighth composition."
Nyota's brows knit. "Learning? What do you mean?"
"I am learning to play the composition on my lute."
She suddenly halts, grabbing him lightly by the elbow. The feeling of her fingers on his arm is unexpectedly pleasant.
"Wait a minute," she says. "We've been friends for more than a year, and you've never told me you play the Vulcan lute."
"You never asked." He is amused by her apparent indignation.
After a moment she shakes her head, releasing his arm. "No, I don't suppose I did."
They begin to walk again. "There was no occasion for it to come up," he replies. "I had not played regularly for several years until this past summer, when I decided to work a regular practice time into my schedule. Perhaps you can visit my apartment sometime soon, and I can perform for you--though I fear my skills are far inferior to those of the performer featured on the recording I gave you."
"Don't be so modest. I would love to hear you play."
He wonders if he is becoming illogically fond of her smile. It pleases him far more than it should.
"What inspired you to start practicing again?" she asks.
"I was discussing music with T'Pring," he says, and relates to her his thoughts upon hearing that T'Pring had given up her practice of the flute.
Nyota remarks that she is glad he decided to take up his instrument again, and then looks away, out toward the ocean.
"I didn't know you were in contact with T'Pring again." She tracks the flight of a gull with her eyes.
"Then I have been remiss in thanking you for your advice. Last December you recommended that I seek a better acquaintance with T'Pring, and I have been engaged in that endeavor ever since."
Her eyes turn downward toward the sand, and she clasps her hands behind her back. "Do feel like you're getting to know her better?"
His talks with T'Pring have none of the ease and familiarity of his conversations with Nyota, but he feels that he is finally making progress. "Somewhat," he says. "She is… not an easy woman to talk to. However, there are many years before we will be expected to marry. I am certain that we will be well acquainted when the time comes."
Nyota nods, her eyes still on the sand.
They walk for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the ocean and the other passers-by.
Since Nyota set the precedent in touching him, Spock decides to follow her example of friendly affection and gently rests the tips of his fingers on her arm. Her pace slows, and she looks up into his eyes. Instead of the sense of casual affection Spock had hoped for, he perceives that his unexpected touch has created a strange uneasy tension between them. He drops his hand, and hastily speaks.
"Would Wednesday evening be a convenient time for you to come to my apartment to listen to my performance?" He still desires to play for her. He wishes for her opinions on his performance--and even for her approval. An illogical desire, perhaps, but one which he cannot deny.
She turns away from his gaze to look up at the city lights. "No. I don't think I can come this week. I've been promising myself that I would spend extra time in the library and finally decide on a topic for my thesis. I'm not going to be one of those cadets that saves the whole thing for her last five months at the Academy and then churns out mediocre work. I want to do something more meaningful than that."
"A worthy goal." He nods, quickly suppressing the small sting of rejection that threatens to rise in his mind. "What topics are you considering?"
She lists three possible topics--two involving Romulan languages, and one involving Andorian. He wonders if she will ask him to serve as her advisor if she chooses one of the Romulan topics. He hopes that she will.
They soon return to the Academy and part ways for the night.
Before preparing for slumber, Spock deviates from his normal routine and spends some extra time practicing his lute. He wants to be ready when Nyota has time to come and listen.
***
Ten days after their outing to Aquatic Park, Nyota arrives at Spock's office in the morning with a broad smile on her face. Spock suspects that she has some sort of good news to convey, and he asks her as much while she begins spreading jam on her morning bagel.
"I've finalized my thesis topic," she says. "I have an advisor committed and everything."
His eyebrow shoots up. She must not have chosen either of the Romulan language topics, or she surely would have asked him to serve as her advisor.
"Which topic did you choose?"
She takes a gulp of coffee. "I'm going to do a practical thesis. I'm going to write up a plan for modifying all Federation Universal Translators with an updated program that will provide more accurate translations of Klingon idiomatic phrases."
Spock is startled. This topic in no way resembles any of her previous ideas. "How did you settle on this choice of topic?"
"Well," she says after swallowing a spoonful of yogurt, "I read a paper two days ago in the latest issue of Xenolinguistics Digest detailing how four recent skirmishes with Klingons could have been avoided if the Universal Translators provided more accurate translations of idiomatic phrases."
Spock read the same article. The writer had not made his case as forcefully as he could have, but his examples did support his underlying argument for updated translation capabilities.
"And yesterday," Nyota continues, "I was talking about the article with Commander Ford from the Klingon language department, and it struck me. If I do this as my thesis, my work could become standard programming in all Universal Translators throughout the Federation. I could impact millions of lives. I might even help save lives. I proposed the idea to Commander Ford, and he agreed to be my advisor right on the spot."
Her eyes shine with excitement. Spock's momentary disappointment about not being her advisor vanishes.
"You have made an excellent choice," he says. "This is a highly ambitious project, which could do much to advance your career. Will you need any assistance writing the programming code? I will make time in my schedule to help you, if you desire it."
She grins at him. "I appreciate the offer, but I've got it covered. My roommate, Gaila Falan-Raz, is a computer programming major. She's really excited about my project, and she wants to do a joint thesis. I'll do the language work and she'll do the programming. We're going to spend all our free time next week working on our proposal. And, hopefully, by the end of the semester everything will be approved and ready to go."
Spock feels another stirring of disappointment, though he cannot fathom why. Nyota's project is well-suited for her capabilities, and he is certain that it will lead to a marked improvement in Universal Translator technology. He pushes the unwelcome feeling aside and offers to assist her in any way possible--an offer which she gladly accepts.
It is not until the end of the day, as he meditates before bed that the reason for his disappointment occurs to him. Nyota's work on a project of such magnitude will inevitably take up a great deal of time in her schedule. Time that she otherwise might have spent with him.
He is disappointed in himself for exhibiting such selfish tendencies, and resolves to focus on overcoming them. He momentarily considers examining his emotional reactions more closely in order to determine the underlying cause of his selfishness, but dismisses the idea quickly. No good can come from dwelling too much on his emotions. He must simply work to rein them in. That will be enough.
Author's Note: ETA Chapter 3 now up!
Title: Human Relationships: Mating Rituals, 2/?
Characters/Pairings: Spock/T'Pring, Spock/Uhura, Sarek, Amanda
Rating: PG (this ch., R eventually)
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: Spock discovers that navigating a relationship with a Human woman is more complicated than he expected. Particularly since the Human woman in question is still a cadet, and Spock has a Vulcan fiancée waiting in the wings.
Author's Note: Thanks as ever to my beta reader, mrstater. Chapter 1.
Chapter Two
Not long after Spock's bonding to T'Pring he became curious about the differences between Vulcan and Human mating rituals. From what he knew of his parents' history, their union must certainly have developed out of the latter rather than the former. He wished for more information on the matter, but not wanting to trouble his father with such a trivial inquiry, he asked his mother instead.
"How did we mate?" She blinked at him in surprise from across the counter where they were folding the laundry together. "Are you asking how your father and I met and decided to marry?"
"Affirmative. I would like to better understand the difference between Human and Vulcan mating rituals." He smoothed the legs of a pair of trousers into a crisp crease before folding them in perfect thirds.
"Well… That subject can be complicated." Amanda began loosely folding a sweater into a disorderly arrangement as she thought. The corners of Spock's mouth turned down. Amanda rolled her eyes at him and then shook the sweater back out to start over again.
"Let me start with the story of how I met your father." She smoothed each sleeve of the sweater in a careful diagonal across its back. "I was teaching Vulcan language and culture at a high school in San Francisco. You probably remember that I was a teacher."
Spock remembered perfectly well--it was illogical of her to presume that he would not.
"Anyway, I went out of my way to attend any and all Vulcan cultural and artistic events that I could. And in the process I got to be friends with a young Vulcan woman who worked as one of the household secretaries for the Vulcan Ambassador, who was, of course, your father."
Spock wondered if he should have asked his mother to write down her memories. She always expressed herself with greater clarity in text than in speech.
"So," she continued, moving on to another sweater, "I asked this friend of mine to help arrange a field trip for some of my top students. She and one of the Embassy chefs were going to host an authentic Vulcan meal along with a few lectures on Vulcan daily life. Well, when Sarek found out what was happening he sent me a message demanding to review my curriculum and credentials before he would allow the event to proceed."
She laughed to herself, though Spock failed to see the humor in her anecdote.
"So I messaged him right back, saying that his employees were free to do whatever they wanted in their free time, and that he should be proud of them for providing a valuable educational opportunity for local Human students, and that if he wanted my credentials and curriculum he would have to ask my boss."
Again she laughed, and shook her head. "And he did. The principal called me minutes later, looking positively terrified, and suggested that I either give up on my field trip or send the Ambassador what he wanted. So I sent him what he wanted. And my curriculum must have impressed him because he turned the field trip into an official embassy event and gave the keynote lecture himself. The whole thing went so well that he started hosting one field trip for my students every semester."
Though she continued to fold the laundry, Amanda's eyes no longer seemed focused on the task at hand, and her voice grew softer. Spock believed the behaviors to be signs of emotional reactions to her reminiscence.
"After the third of those field trips your father and I started to run into each other at some of those cultural and artistic events that I told you about, and we became friends. We started arranging to spend time together socially."
Her hands ceased moving altogether as her thoughts appeared to turn entirely inward. "After five years like that, I was offered a job by an old friend in Washington State. She wanted me to coordinate the Vulcan language and culture curriculum and instruction for the entire state. The opportunity seemed too good to pass up. I was ready to accept the job when I told Sarek about it."
Her smile broadened. "He found the idea of losing my regular company to be extremely disagreeable. So he offered me an alternative--he proposed marriage. And, after thinking about it for a few weeks, I accepted."
She looked up to catch Spock's eye. "He didn't like that I kept him waiting that long. But it was a very big decision."
"Indeed." Spock finished folding the last pair of trousers. "So, am I to gather from your story that Human mating rituals are composed primarily of regular social interaction with friends that result in a determination of mutual compatibility followed by a proposal of marriage?"
Amanda went back to folding another sweater. "Hmmm. More or less."
Spock found her answer highly unsatisfactory.
***
After two weeks, the fall semester is progressing well. There are several very promising students in Spock's latest phonology class, though his interspecies ethics students are somewhat disappointing. There are moments when Spock doubts the qualifications of the Admissions personnel.
The most satisfying part of the new semester, however, is Nyota's return. Every weekday beginning at 0800 hours she spends an hour working with him, and then returns in the afternoon for two to four hours, depending on her daily class schedule. He finds that when he is able to discuss his projects and ideas with her as they work his productivity increases by more than four percent--an unlikely, but welcome, outcome.
This year she has been wearing her hair pulled up into a high, tight ponytail. When she is engrossed in her work he often turns his gaze to her work station, where she sits with her back and a small portion of her profile facing him. He studies the slenderness of her neck, and the soft curve of her ears. His mother often covered her neck and head with scarves, and Spock never felt the desire to examine the features of any of his other Human friends at length, so this is the first time he has seriously analyzed the minute physiological differences between Human and Vulcan heads. The differences are subtle, yet profound. He never tires of studying Nyota's features.
On the eleventh school day of the new semester Nyota seems tired and slightly distracted when she arrives for her morning work session. Twenty minutes after the hour a distinct rumbling sound--which Spock recognizes as a physiological indication of hunger--emerges from her abdomen.
He glances at her. "Nyota, was your morning nourishment insufficient today?"
She sighs and forces a smile. "I haven't had anything to eat yet."
He raises an eyebrow. "It is improper for you to skip meals. Such actions lead to fatigue and decrease your mental acuity."
"I know." She rolls her eyes in an expression that she once explained is indicative of good-natured exasperation. "I'm still trying to figure out how to fit everything into my new schedule this semester, that's all. For the first two weeks I couldn't find a good time to exercise, so I finally decided I'd have to do it first thing in the morning. But by the time I was done working out today I had barely enough time to shower and get dressed before coming here. Don't worry--I'll grab coffee and a pastry at the coffee stand outside before going to my first class."
"Hmmm." His lips tighten, and he turns back to his console.
"Let me guess," she says. "You don't approve of my coffee stand breakfast?"
"Such a meal lacks essential nutrients." He does not meet her eyes, instead focusing on the code he is programming for a new intra-Academy communications database. "A truly nourishing breakfast would include a source of protein, and contain significantly less sugar than the pastries you typically consume."
"Well, this is what works for me."
Now he does turn to look at her again. She is facing her console, marking quizzes from his most recent phonology class.
"Do you intend to make this schedule, and this inadequate breakfast, habitual?"
"Yes. I do." Though most of her features are neutral, he can see the faintest upward curve at the edge of her lips.
"Hmmm." He swivels back to his work, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind.
The next morning, Spock waits with greater eagerness than he should for Nyota's arrival.
She enters with her customary greeting, and strides to her work station. Instead of sitting, she lets her bag slide from her shoulder to the desktop and stares down at what sits on the desk in front of her chair. It is a large coffee, a whole grain bagel, and a container of protein-enriched yogurt.
A bright smile spreads across her face as she turns to look at him. The corners of his mouth twitch upward.
"I was uncertain of which additions you prefer in your coffee or of which spreads you prefer on your bagel, so I provided an assortment," he said.
"I see that." She continues to smile as she pulls out her chair, arranges her green pillow, and sits. She adds two packets of creamer and one tablet of sweetener to her coffee, and spreads butter and blueberry jam on her bagel. Spock makes a mental note of her choices for future reference.
"Thank you for this," she says as she finishes spreading the jam on her bagel. "It was very sweet of you."
"Sweet?" Only his mother has ever called him sweet. "I do not see how the term applies. As your superior officer, it is my duty to see to it that you remain healthy enough to perform your duties to the best of your abilities."
She narrows her eyes and takes a sip of her coffee. "Whatever you say, Commander."
"I trust the breakfast will not interfere with your ability to complete this morning's marking?"
She takes a bite of the bagel and shakes her head. After she swallows, she says, "I'm sure I'll finish just fine."
"Excellent."
Near the end of the hour, all that remains of her breakfast is a few crumbs of her bagel. She brushes them into her now-empty coffee cup and carries her trash over to the recycling chute.
She turns to meet his eyes. "I do appreciate the gesture, but you really didn't have to get breakfast for me. You don't plan on doing this again tomorrow, do you?"
As is so often the case, her thoughts are indiscernible behind her gentle expression. He studies her for a moment longer before responding. "It pleases me to assist you with your efforts to arrange your schedule in a satisfying fashion. If providing you with a healthful breakfast will be beneficial to you, then I ask you to please allow me to continue."
She seems to be studying his expression as intently as he is studying hers. Finally, she takes a deep breath. "Okay. It was very helpful. But I'll only let you continue on one condition."
"And that is?"
"From now on, you need to let me treat you at our regular Thursday lunch. To pay you back."
Her face is firm, and though he feels no need for remuneration, he sees that she is determined. "Very well." He nods. "I accept your condition."
A smile returns to her face. "Good."
Spock continues to bring her coffee and breakfast every morning. And she continues to pay for lunch every Thursday. But when they go to dinner, or to concerts, or art exhibits, they take turns paying. It is their system, and it works for them. As long as they keep their accounts balanced, everything makes sense.
***
T'Pring did not enjoy the selection of jazz that Spock sent her, so he sends her another selection of Earth music that he suspects will be more suitable to her tastes.
When he initiates communications for their weekly conversation, he is curious to see if he chose correctly.
When Spock asks her what she thought of the music, she replies, "These pieces were very acceptable. Some of them were almost Vulcan. I found the works of Bach particularly agreeable."
Spock has always enjoyed Bach very much, and the corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. He has finally found something he can share with T'Pring.
They spend most of their thirty minutes discussing the Bach selections that he sent her, and comparing them to relevant Vulcan compositions. Before bidding farewell, Spock agrees to send T'Pring recordings of Bach's entire body of work.
Spock feels well satisfied when they end their communication. It was the most pleasing conversation he has ever had with T'Pring.
***
On a warm evening in early November, Spock and Nyota go to dinner at a restaurant near the Aquatic Park beach. They both have sourdough bread-bowls filled with soup--Nyota chooses the classic clam chowder, while Spock selects the vegetarian cauliflower-cheese soup. Spock pays.
After they eat, they stroll along the bustling beach, chatting.
"I finally got to the tenth-century composers on that data-chip you gave me," Nyota says, referring to the collection of Vulcan music he gave her last Christmas. "The lute solos by Tybaz are amazing. They absolutely take my breath away."
"Tybaz is one of my favorites," replies Spock. "I am currently learning his twenty-eighth composition."
Nyota's brows knit. "Learning? What do you mean?"
"I am learning to play the composition on my lute."
She suddenly halts, grabbing him lightly by the elbow. The feeling of her fingers on his arm is unexpectedly pleasant.
"Wait a minute," she says. "We've been friends for more than a year, and you've never told me you play the Vulcan lute."
"You never asked." He is amused by her apparent indignation.
After a moment she shakes her head, releasing his arm. "No, I don't suppose I did."
They begin to walk again. "There was no occasion for it to come up," he replies. "I had not played regularly for several years until this past summer, when I decided to work a regular practice time into my schedule. Perhaps you can visit my apartment sometime soon, and I can perform for you--though I fear my skills are far inferior to those of the performer featured on the recording I gave you."
"Don't be so modest. I would love to hear you play."
He wonders if he is becoming illogically fond of her smile. It pleases him far more than it should.
"What inspired you to start practicing again?" she asks.
"I was discussing music with T'Pring," he says, and relates to her his thoughts upon hearing that T'Pring had given up her practice of the flute.
Nyota remarks that she is glad he decided to take up his instrument again, and then looks away, out toward the ocean.
"I didn't know you were in contact with T'Pring again." She tracks the flight of a gull with her eyes.
"Then I have been remiss in thanking you for your advice. Last December you recommended that I seek a better acquaintance with T'Pring, and I have been engaged in that endeavor ever since."
Her eyes turn downward toward the sand, and she clasps her hands behind her back. "Do feel like you're getting to know her better?"
His talks with T'Pring have none of the ease and familiarity of his conversations with Nyota, but he feels that he is finally making progress. "Somewhat," he says. "She is… not an easy woman to talk to. However, there are many years before we will be expected to marry. I am certain that we will be well acquainted when the time comes."
Nyota nods, her eyes still on the sand.
They walk for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the ocean and the other passers-by.
Since Nyota set the precedent in touching him, Spock decides to follow her example of friendly affection and gently rests the tips of his fingers on her arm. Her pace slows, and she looks up into his eyes. Instead of the sense of casual affection Spock had hoped for, he perceives that his unexpected touch has created a strange uneasy tension between them. He drops his hand, and hastily speaks.
"Would Wednesday evening be a convenient time for you to come to my apartment to listen to my performance?" He still desires to play for her. He wishes for her opinions on his performance--and even for her approval. An illogical desire, perhaps, but one which he cannot deny.
She turns away from his gaze to look up at the city lights. "No. I don't think I can come this week. I've been promising myself that I would spend extra time in the library and finally decide on a topic for my thesis. I'm not going to be one of those cadets that saves the whole thing for her last five months at the Academy and then churns out mediocre work. I want to do something more meaningful than that."
"A worthy goal." He nods, quickly suppressing the small sting of rejection that threatens to rise in his mind. "What topics are you considering?"
She lists three possible topics--two involving Romulan languages, and one involving Andorian. He wonders if she will ask him to serve as her advisor if she chooses one of the Romulan topics. He hopes that she will.
They soon return to the Academy and part ways for the night.
Before preparing for slumber, Spock deviates from his normal routine and spends some extra time practicing his lute. He wants to be ready when Nyota has time to come and listen.
***
Ten days after their outing to Aquatic Park, Nyota arrives at Spock's office in the morning with a broad smile on her face. Spock suspects that she has some sort of good news to convey, and he asks her as much while she begins spreading jam on her morning bagel.
"I've finalized my thesis topic," she says. "I have an advisor committed and everything."
His eyebrow shoots up. She must not have chosen either of the Romulan language topics, or she surely would have asked him to serve as her advisor.
"Which topic did you choose?"
She takes a gulp of coffee. "I'm going to do a practical thesis. I'm going to write up a plan for modifying all Federation Universal Translators with an updated program that will provide more accurate translations of Klingon idiomatic phrases."
Spock is startled. This topic in no way resembles any of her previous ideas. "How did you settle on this choice of topic?"
"Well," she says after swallowing a spoonful of yogurt, "I read a paper two days ago in the latest issue of Xenolinguistics Digest detailing how four recent skirmishes with Klingons could have been avoided if the Universal Translators provided more accurate translations of idiomatic phrases."
Spock read the same article. The writer had not made his case as forcefully as he could have, but his examples did support his underlying argument for updated translation capabilities.
"And yesterday," Nyota continues, "I was talking about the article with Commander Ford from the Klingon language department, and it struck me. If I do this as my thesis, my work could become standard programming in all Universal Translators throughout the Federation. I could impact millions of lives. I might even help save lives. I proposed the idea to Commander Ford, and he agreed to be my advisor right on the spot."
Her eyes shine with excitement. Spock's momentary disappointment about not being her advisor vanishes.
"You have made an excellent choice," he says. "This is a highly ambitious project, which could do much to advance your career. Will you need any assistance writing the programming code? I will make time in my schedule to help you, if you desire it."
She grins at him. "I appreciate the offer, but I've got it covered. My roommate, Gaila Falan-Raz, is a computer programming major. She's really excited about my project, and she wants to do a joint thesis. I'll do the language work and she'll do the programming. We're going to spend all our free time next week working on our proposal. And, hopefully, by the end of the semester everything will be approved and ready to go."
Spock feels another stirring of disappointment, though he cannot fathom why. Nyota's project is well-suited for her capabilities, and he is certain that it will lead to a marked improvement in Universal Translator technology. He pushes the unwelcome feeling aside and offers to assist her in any way possible--an offer which she gladly accepts.
It is not until the end of the day, as he meditates before bed that the reason for his disappointment occurs to him. Nyota's work on a project of such magnitude will inevitably take up a great deal of time in her schedule. Time that she otherwise might have spent with him.
He is disappointed in himself for exhibiting such selfish tendencies, and resolves to focus on overcoming them. He momentarily considers examining his emotional reactions more closely in order to determine the underlying cause of his selfishness, but dismisses the idea quickly. No good can come from dwelling too much on his emotions. He must simply work to rein them in. That will be enough.
Author's Note: ETA Chapter 3 now up!