Fic: Spock/Uhura: Morning Meditation
Title: Morning Meditation
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Spock takes a run to get in control of his feelings. It doesn't really work. Written for the Spock/Uhura prompt table.
A/N: First star trek fic. -gulps- Enjoy!
Blood coursing through his veins, Spock breathed in deeply. Normally the chill of the morning air burned his lungs, but this morning it was bracing. Cutting to his core, the sensation was a numbing fog; as it enveloped his senses it allowed at once for him to abandon all emotion. Lean limbs pounding against the ground as he ran, he reflected that this form of meditation was often far more effective then the manner perfected and performed by his people. When he ran, he was in control, his body moving in a flawless rhythm that revealed nothing of human expressiveness. So, he pressed on, relishing the release even as he feared it. Of late, his thoughts had be particularly scattered, illogical even, especially in the regards of one female student.
He tried to pass off his attraction as the logical path, recalling Sarek’s childhood revelation; he had married Amanda for logic’s sake. Yet, Spock’s attraction was wholly illogical. He was Vulcan, if not entirely in form, then in mentality surely. He governed his emotions almost flawlessly, the few flukes being shameful and rare. In contrast, Nyota embraced emotion and embodied passion with such a beauty that her frequent smiles unnerved him. Her ambition for the Enterprise seemed almost dangerous. Her kind words were entirely empathetic, entirely unsettling. He was a teacher, sometimes pedantic in every sense of the inflective description. She was a student, undeniably bright, yet a student nonetheless. If anybody expected his...favoritism, she would take the fall. Therefore, she was forbidden. That was the logical conclusion.
Finally, his legs muscles burning, he halted in front the the building that housed his residence. The morning was still young and dew clung to the grass as he stolidly approached the building, mind carefully controlled after the athletic meditation. Wiping his brow, he deigned that he would make a cup of strong tea and begin his day grading dissertations. Tedious at the best of times, he did not anticipate that today would be any improvement. He found that the majority of cadet’s attempts at phonology were lackluster at best; frequently, this opinion did not go over well with the students.
It was at that moment that the object of his earlier musings abruptly exited the hall. Looking flustered, Spock noticed as blood rushed to her cheeks at his sudden appearance. He assessed its meanings; embarrassment, excitement, an acute fever... none of it seemed rational. Then there were her eyes, tired, yes, but with was a spark of something else. He additionally noted how the condensation too clung to her skin. His mind had the swift urge to process this detail poetically. He failed to grasp the correct lexicon. Instead, he nodded.
“Lieutenant Uhura.”
Uhura smiled, “Commander Spock, I was looking for you. ”
Spock again felt an erroneous quiver in his gut. Yes, good strong tea was called for. Ignoring this impulse Spock relied, “So I gathered.”
There was an awkward pause as Spock struggled to find something more to say. Nothing seemed appropriate to the situation and he allowed their interaction to briefly fall into silence. However, Uhura seemed not to notice. She studied his face momentarily before continuing in a voice that could only be described as lyrical.
“If you don’t mind, would you look over my paper on exolinguistics? I feel like my thesis on phonology in relation to morphology is lacking and I know that you would have plenty of... criticism.”
Spock hesitated, recalling a previous incident. “Are you certain, Lieutenant Uhura? I seem to recall a few choice Romulan curse words aimed in my general direction the last time I hazarded to offer... criticism.”
Uhura smiled sheepishly, offering him the PADD hopefully. “With any other teacher, that paper would have merited an ‘A’ and you know it. But yes, I’m sure. Your advice matters to me, especially if I want to fly on the Enterprise in a year....”
Spock felt an unexplained disappointment. Yes, of course, the Enterprise. Uhura wouldn’t forget her zeal, her own personal enterprise. He didn’t know whether or not he approved. Yet, he took the PADD from her outstretched fingers anyway, careful to avoid unnecessary contact. In an attempt to appear diplomatic he nodded once more, “I’ll have it ready for you in a hour.”
Uhura’s subsequent reaction was as stunning as it was baffling. Grinning broadly she rocked forward, moving as though she was going to hug him. She apparently then thought better of it, instead backing up a few feet. “Thank you so much, Spock. I know you’re busy.”
She paused and when he didn’t react, she bounded past him, rigid ponytail slicing the air as it swung freely. An expression that seemed almost uncertain had crossed her face in the duration of a second, marring the soft human features. Spock turned to watch her go. Ten feet away, she turned back, seemingly startled to find him watching. Her quiet smile re-materialized as she said, “Oh, and Spock, call me Nyota.”
With that she continued her progress and his stomach shifted again.
Yes, strong tea was what he needed. He turned into the building, fighting an inward smirk. Logic would come later.
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: Spock takes a run to get in control of his feelings. It doesn't really work. Written for the Spock/Uhura prompt table.
A/N: First star trek fic. -gulps- Enjoy!
Blood coursing through his veins, Spock breathed in deeply. Normally the chill of the morning air burned his lungs, but this morning it was bracing. Cutting to his core, the sensation was a numbing fog; as it enveloped his senses it allowed at once for him to abandon all emotion. Lean limbs pounding against the ground as he ran, he reflected that this form of meditation was often far more effective then the manner perfected and performed by his people. When he ran, he was in control, his body moving in a flawless rhythm that revealed nothing of human expressiveness. So, he pressed on, relishing the release even as he feared it. Of late, his thoughts had be particularly scattered, illogical even, especially in the regards of one female student.
He tried to pass off his attraction as the logical path, recalling Sarek’s childhood revelation; he had married Amanda for logic’s sake. Yet, Spock’s attraction was wholly illogical. He was Vulcan, if not entirely in form, then in mentality surely. He governed his emotions almost flawlessly, the few flukes being shameful and rare. In contrast, Nyota embraced emotion and embodied passion with such a beauty that her frequent smiles unnerved him. Her ambition for the Enterprise seemed almost dangerous. Her kind words were entirely empathetic, entirely unsettling. He was a teacher, sometimes pedantic in every sense of the inflective description. She was a student, undeniably bright, yet a student nonetheless. If anybody expected his...favoritism, she would take the fall. Therefore, she was forbidden. That was the logical conclusion.
Finally, his legs muscles burning, he halted in front the the building that housed his residence. The morning was still young and dew clung to the grass as he stolidly approached the building, mind carefully controlled after the athletic meditation. Wiping his brow, he deigned that he would make a cup of strong tea and begin his day grading dissertations. Tedious at the best of times, he did not anticipate that today would be any improvement. He found that the majority of cadet’s attempts at phonology were lackluster at best; frequently, this opinion did not go over well with the students.
It was at that moment that the object of his earlier musings abruptly exited the hall. Looking flustered, Spock noticed as blood rushed to her cheeks at his sudden appearance. He assessed its meanings; embarrassment, excitement, an acute fever... none of it seemed rational. Then there were her eyes, tired, yes, but with was a spark of something else. He additionally noted how the condensation too clung to her skin. His mind had the swift urge to process this detail poetically. He failed to grasp the correct lexicon. Instead, he nodded.
“Lieutenant Uhura.”
Uhura smiled, “Commander Spock, I was looking for you. ”
Spock again felt an erroneous quiver in his gut. Yes, good strong tea was called for. Ignoring this impulse Spock relied, “So I gathered.”
There was an awkward pause as Spock struggled to find something more to say. Nothing seemed appropriate to the situation and he allowed their interaction to briefly fall into silence. However, Uhura seemed not to notice. She studied his face momentarily before continuing in a voice that could only be described as lyrical.
“If you don’t mind, would you look over my paper on exolinguistics? I feel like my thesis on phonology in relation to morphology is lacking and I know that you would have plenty of... criticism.”
Spock hesitated, recalling a previous incident. “Are you certain, Lieutenant Uhura? I seem to recall a few choice Romulan curse words aimed in my general direction the last time I hazarded to offer... criticism.”
Uhura smiled sheepishly, offering him the PADD hopefully. “With any other teacher, that paper would have merited an ‘A’ and you know it. But yes, I’m sure. Your advice matters to me, especially if I want to fly on the Enterprise in a year....”
Spock felt an unexplained disappointment. Yes, of course, the Enterprise. Uhura wouldn’t forget her zeal, her own personal enterprise. He didn’t know whether or not he approved. Yet, he took the PADD from her outstretched fingers anyway, careful to avoid unnecessary contact. In an attempt to appear diplomatic he nodded once more, “I’ll have it ready for you in a hour.”
Uhura’s subsequent reaction was as stunning as it was baffling. Grinning broadly she rocked forward, moving as though she was going to hug him. She apparently then thought better of it, instead backing up a few feet. “Thank you so much, Spock. I know you’re busy.”
She paused and when he didn’t react, she bounded past him, rigid ponytail slicing the air as it swung freely. An expression that seemed almost uncertain had crossed her face in the duration of a second, marring the soft human features. Spock turned to watch her go. Ten feet away, she turned back, seemingly startled to find him watching. Her quiet smile re-materialized as she said, “Oh, and Spock, call me Nyota.”
With that she continued her progress and his stomach shifted again.
Yes, strong tea was what he needed. He turned into the building, fighting an inward smirk. Logic would come later.