[SOL! Verse - Just a Dance]

[nyota_uhura24]

It was Jim's third weekend as the diner's regular musician. There hadn't been any real trouble since that first night, though Nyota's father had insisted that if anyone harassed Jim again that she come get him immediately. Nyota just hoped it never became an issue. She and her father were both thrilled to have a musician whose music really meant

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[nyota_uhura24]

It definitely made her feel guilty to sneak around like this, but there was no harm in what they were doing, and dancing with him was too wonderful for her to ever want to stop. She tried to convince herself that it wouldn't really be that big of an issue if anyone knew, that it was just easier to keep this between the two of them, but it wasn't exactly working. I am allowed to have this, she thought firmly to herself. I'm not hurting anyone. In the back of her mind was another thought, whispered and painful but empowering none the less: Mother would have approved. She took a deep breath. “Monday works for me. Where do you live?”

His cheek was pressed against hers, and it made her heart jump into her throat. She knew that being this close together was probably part of the dance, but it kept catching her off guard, kept making her stomach squirm a little. It still made her feel strangely off balance, but moving like this just suited the music. The next time she heard a song with similar rhythms, it would be almost impossible not to add a little bit of rumba to the way she moved. Their movements had slowed down dramatically, and she let her eyes drift closed and sighed softly. This moment felt so peaceful, and for once she wasn't using the music to daydream about anything else. She was happy, just like this.

She felt strangely bereft when he pulled away but shook off the reaction and smiled warmly at him. “Thank you. It's... better than I imagined it would be,” she said, almost shyly, and was on the verge of telling him just how this dream was born before she tamped down on the words. Something about him made her want to just... tell him things. It was odd, because she didn't know him well, and even though he seemed open minded that didn't mean she should say whatever was on her mind.

[owns_the_chair]

"Give a second, I'll write it down for you." He took the opportunity she offered him to end the dance, and made his way out to the counter to jot down his address on a slip of paper. It had the benefit of giving him a moment to collect himself and clear his head. Something that was a lot easier when he wasn't tempted to submerge himself in deep, brown pools of warmth and let the unique scent that was just her suffuse his senses. As the pen moved swiftly across the paper, he rebuked himself sharply for letting desire cloud his reason. If she'd noticed that the dance they'd indulged in was a far cry from any standard, she hadn't let on. She obviously had more sense than he did, and it just went to show that he shouldn't have let it go that far.

He tapped the pen against the counter a few times and stared down at the scribbled words as if they held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. True to his usual, impulsive self, he'd made her a promise. One he wasn't about to back out of. Sam had always said that his tendency to leap without looking would land him in trouble one day, and he may have been more right than he'd wanted to be. Jim would certainly have to be very, very careful to not let it be anything other than dancing lessons again.

Decision made, he walked back into the kitchen and handed her the note. "There you go. It's not the Four Seasons, but... It's there, and it serves its purpose." Scratching the back of his neck, he intensely hoped that her brother showed up soon. Preferably before he was tempted beyond reason again. "And trust me, you won't thank me when your feet feel like they're about to fall off because I've made you repeat the same steps for hours. If I'm going to teach you, I'm going to do it right. The fact that you're not paying me just gives me the luxury of not having to coddle you, but make sure you actually learn. Beyond what you need for vapid dances and lackluster ballrooms. You're gonna hate me before the first month is over."

[nyota_uhura24]

“Thanks,” she replied, still smiling as he walked out into the restaurant. She leaned against one of the kitchen counters, wondering why her heart still refused to be calm. Now that he was gone it was impossible to fight the feeling of loss that he was no longer holding her so close, swaying with her to the music, sliding his cheek along hers almost as if he was about to - What in the world are you thinking about? She forced her mind not to wander in such ludicrous and inappropriate directions, and to focus instead on how wonderful it had been to dance like that with him, and the fact that she was going to get to dance with him again soon. When she thought about it, she really couldn't stop smiling, nor could she stop herself from... wondering about him. She wondered what his place looked like, what else he did in his spare time, what he was like when he wasn't the diner's musician.

Her musings came to an end when he walked back into the kitchen and handed her the note. She accepted it happily and read the address. Ah, it'll be easy to get there if I take the 2. It wasn't a part of town she went to often - just one more thing about this that made it an adventure. She listened with growing excitement as he explained that he wasn't going to coddle her, that he was actually going to teach her right. It sounded like a challenge, and as always she planned to meet it head on. “I'm looking forward to it. There's no point in learning something if you don't learn it the right way.” There was amusement and affection in her eyes as she added, “And I could never hate you, Jim, though I don't promise not to complain if my feet hurt afterward.”

She was almost giddy, and suddenly felt the need to look away. Her eyes fell on the clock, and her smile faded a little. “Kamau should have been here ages ago,” she said suddenly. “I wonder if he got held up somewhere.” It wasn't like her brother to be so late. She shrugged and looked back at Jim. “You.. don't have to wait with me. I'm sure he'll show up soon.”

[owns_the_chair]

As expected, she took him up on his subtle challenge, though his smile turned a little wry when she said she could never hate him. While he hoped that was true, wanted it to be true, he knew that she would if he acted on the more or less constant impulse to get closer to her, to get as close as he could and wake up with her in his bed.

"I'll hold you to that, and a little complaining is acceptable. Lord knows I whined my mom's ears off when she taught me," he rolled his eyes at the memory and leaned a little closer to whisper as if he was sharing a great secret. "I'd much rather have been out in the old barn tinkering with my bike than learning how to foxtrot. If it hadn't been because she bribed me shamelessly with new spare parts, I'd have two left feet today."

The softness of her smile and the affection in her eyes were reflected in his own expression and another little jolt of electricity cracked through the air. This time, though, he was sure she noticed it too, because she snapped her eyes away and looked at the clock. "Maybe. I'm sure he'll be here soon." When she looked at him again, he gave her a small shrug and stretched his arms over his head, making his joints pop. "Nah, 's alright. You're much better company than my ceiling."

[nyota_uhura24]

When he leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially, she felt a little shiver run down her spine, but resolutely ignored it and focused on what he was saying. There was fondness in his voice as he talked, and it made her laugh softly to imagine him as a child who probably thought a lot of things were more fun than dancing. “Well, I'm thankful to your mother, then. I know you said it's a frustrating job sometimes, but you still seem happy, when you're dancing, even if it's not as exciting as working on a bike."

Her expression turned slightly nostalgic. “My mother used to work part time as a waitress at the Savoy when she was younger. It was this huge ballroom over on Lenox Avenue,” she added, not sure how familiar he was with Harlem. “Once she took me back to visit, and I watched the dancing from the kitchen. It was incredible, to see the whole floor full of people spinning and dipping and smiling. They even let blacks and whites dance together. My mom noticed how much I liked it and told me that maybe one day she'd convince dad to let me learn, but...” She shrugged. Her mother wasn't around to convince her father of anything.

It really was far too easy to talk to him, and far too easy to get lost in his eyes. “Well that's quite a compliment, Jim. I'm honored.”

[owns_the_chair]

"I was lucky, I got pretty good at both. Though I could have done without the trauma of learning latin dancing with my b- mother. It's... yeah..." He shuddered theatrically to cover up for his almost slip and hoped she didn't pick up on it. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk about Sam, but it would inevitably lead to questions and make him trudge through a lot of memories that were better left in peace.

So he listened to her talk about her mother in turn and her story brought a smile to his face. He'd heard a few whisperings about what had happened to Mrs. Uhura, but hadn't wanted to ask any questions. Grief was a private matter and should only be shared by the choice of the people who carried it. "I remember the Savoy. It was a great place, I was sad to see it close."

He paused, then gave her hand a gentle little squeeze. "Can't say much about convincing your dad, but it seems both you and your mom are getting what you wanted. We'll find a new Savoy for you to dance at. And trust me, you're a lot more interesting than watching the paint peel off slowly."

[nyota_uhura24]

She caught the small slip, but just smiled and laughed along. She certainly wasn't going to ask about things he clearly didn't want to share. “You're talking about motorbikes?” she asked instead. “Do you still have one?”

It didn't really surprise her that he knew that Savoy. It was fairly famous even outside of Harlem, or so she'd heard. “Me too. I'd always hoped I'd get a chance to dance there,” she replied. Memories of her mother made her smile, gave her strength, even though it hurt to think about the fact that she wasn't around, and to think about how losing her had changed her father irrevocably.

Her eyes widened slightly when he squeezed her hand, and she tentatively squeezed back, resisting the strange compulsion to lace her fingers with his. Her eyes lit up a little at the prospect of finding a replacement for the Savoy. “I'd love to find another ballroom to dance at," she replied, though she knew there weren't many that would allow her and Jim to dance together. "She'd be happy to see me dancing. I do wish I could tell my dad, but...” There were just some things it was better for him not to know, and although she didn't want to say it she was afraid that her father would be angry at Jim if he found out.

“Hmm,” she said, pretending to consider his last comment for a moment. “My ceiling is pretty interesting, but I don't suppose it'll teach me how to dance.”

[owns_the_chair]

The fact that his little slip went unnoticed made him feel more comfortable sharing more with her. "Yep. I do. I don't drive it around much, the subway's easier, but... I take her out when I can. I put her together from nuts and bolts. She's a pretty great bike."

She returned the light squeeze and he had to fight the urge to put his arm around her. They'd already been down that road once tonight, and it had nearly ended in disaster, so it was better to keep things as light and friendly as possible. Even if the touch made his hand tingle oddly. "We'll find a ballroom for you, I promise. And you know how I am about making promises," he joked and ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I know. Despite how open-minded he is, you're still his daughter and I'm still the white boy teaching you something he can't. It's the way things are. We can try to change them, bit by bit, but Rome wasn't built in one day. It's not just about civil rights, though that's a vital part of it. It's about changing the way people think..." He shook his head and snorted in wry amusement. "Just think, maybe in thirty, or fifty years, a guy like me can walk down the street holding hands with a girl like you. Take her out dancing anywhere they want to go, put his arm around her at the movies and steal a kiss or two, and no one will think anything of it. Because they'd be equals in the eyes of the world. Because they are equals, people are just too goddamn blind to see it. I hope I live to see that day..."

[nyota_uhura24]

For some reason the idea of him riding a motorbike made her grin. It suited him. “Somehow it doesn't surprise me that you built it yourself.” She knew nothing about them, but she could imagine him carefully choosing the right parts, could visualize the excited look on his face when he'd added or improved something.

Her gaze dropped briefly to his hand on hers, then flickered back to his eyes as he promised her a ballroom. “And you know that I'll hold you to that promise,” she answered, already looking forward to it. Her breath hitched ever so slightly as he ran his thumb over her hand, and it struck her that she should pull her hand away, but the contact was too comforting, and surely this was nothing to be concerned about after the way they'd danced.

The way he started talking surprised her, and she looked at him carefully. She'd known that he was open-minded - his music had made that clear right from the start - but it was still strange to hear him vocalize it like this. When he painted her a picture of hands entwined and stolen kisses, her mind supplied an image of the two of them that she immediately shook off and forced herself not to think about. Still, his words about equality went straight to her heart, and she nodded, a considering expression on her face. She didn't usually talk about these things, especially with white men, but Jim was different. She inhaled shortly and looked straight at him as she replied. “That day is going to come, when we learn to stop inventing arbitrary reasons to hate each other and realize that we're not really all that different... And maybe the daughter of that couple you described will be able to go to any college she wants. Maybe her career choices won't be limited by the fact that she's a woman, because we're all equal.” She held his gaze for a moment, wondering if she should be saying these things to him, and then looked away. She believed that the world was going to change - it was a hope her father had instilled in her and one she couldn't give up - but it was frustrating anyway.

“My father's a good man,” she added, voice soft. “He has reasons not to be open-minded, but that hasn't stopped him.”

[owns_the_chair]

"I wouldn't have it any other way. I expect you to hold me to it. Can't promise how long it'll take though. I might just end up having to build you a ballroom," he joked, but there was a grain of both truth and seriousness in it.

She weighed his every word, and when he'd finished speaking, he could practically hear the cogs turning in her mind. It was obvious she hadn't expected him to say what he did, but she seemed to approve. And then there was that glimmer of intelligence, of pride and of knowing she deserved better than what life was giving her, shining brightly in her eyes. But along with that was an unspoken challenge, daring him to disagree with her. He didn't, but he couldn't resist teasing her a little. He gasped in mock surprise and put his hand on his chest, feigning shocked outrage. "Never! Women are born for nothing but cooking for men and bearing their sons. They don't have the brains for education!"

He kept a relatively straight face for all of about five seconds, then broke down and laughed. "I'm sorry, I agree with you. It's just... The idea that what we have between our legs has any influence over our intelligence is just too absurd not to poke fun at." His laughter died down to a soft chuckle and he cleared his throat before he became more serious again. "The only time that difference really matters is in the bedroom and on the way there. We're really all just people. Yes, we look different, but that's life. It's the differences that make things interesting."

Her hand was still holding onto his, and he brought it up to gently kiss the back of it. "You're an amazing woman, Uhura. Don't ever let anyone change you or tell you different. I know your father's a good person. He's changing his little corner of the world the only ways he can and the ways he knows how. It's up to us to change our little corners and roll with the punches people throw at us. If we don't, nothing's ever going to change."

[nyota_uhura24]

She couldn't keep the fond smile off her face when he said he might have to build her a ballroom. It was a joke, of course, but Jim struck her as the the kind of person who really would build what he wanted if it didn't already exist in the world. It might take a while for him to fulfill this promise, but she had no doubt that somehow, someday, he would make it happen.

Her eyes widened at his outburst, then narrowed when he started laughing. The tension building in her chest eased when he made it clear that he was joking, and although she'd suspected as much it still made her a little nervous to talk about such things, especially with someone outside of her family. “It isn't funny,” she insisted, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. “But it is ridiculous to think that intelligence has anything to do with gender.” Her expression softened a little as she looked at him. It was refreshing to voice aloud ideas that were so clear and simple in her mind. Hearing that it was as obvious to him as it was to her soothed something inside her that ached, and made her respect him that much more. “We ought to be celebrating our differences. You can't learn anything from someone who's exactly like you."

Her train of thought stalled a bit when he kissed her hand again, and to her slight horror she found herself blushing at his words. She wasn't used to people saying things like that to her. “Thank you... My father always says that if you want things to be different, you have to make them different.” It was easier to address that comment than to think about him calling her an amazing woman. It made her heart swell with warmth, made her think that maybe her hopes for something better weren't so naive after all. "I don't entirely know what to make of you, Jim, but I'm very glad I met you.”

[owns_the_chair]

"That's alright, I don't always know what to make of myself either," he grinned and shrugged, something undefinable stirring in his chest when she said she was glad she'd met him. It was probably just because he was teaching her something she'd always wanted to learn, so it was probably just appreciation for the fact he could make someone's dream come true. It didn't really feel like appreciation, though.

"I'm very glad I met you, too," he admitted softly and brushed his thumb over her knuckles again. It was true, even if it was difficult at times like this to remember why it was a bad idea to touch her the way he really wanted to, why he'd always have to settle for innocent little touches and mask his desire to keep touching her by teaching her how to dance. He couldn't help feeling like the worst asshole in existence for taking something from her she didn't know she was giving, but he couldn't seem to help himself when she was close. She was smart, she was stubborn and probably stronger than any other woman he'd met, and she matched his every challenge with one of her own.

He fell silent because if he spoke right at that moment, he was going to say things he shouldn't and wouldn't be able to take back. So he just kept caressing her hand idly and looked at the movements of his thumb over her skin, all the differences between them standing out in sharp contrast, reminding him of their places in the world.

[nyota_uhura24]

She laughed softly when he said he didn't know what to make of himself either. He really wasn't like anyone she'd ever met before, and even though they hadn't known each other long, she'd already voiced thoughts to him that she wasn't used to saying aloud. She already felt she could trust him, and every promise he made she expected him to keep.

The soft admission made her heart flutter slightly, and she couldn't keep the wide smile off her face that he felt as she did. She looked forward most to the days when he would be at the diner, and now she'd be able to see him on other days as well, to talk with him, to dance with him. He makes life a little more bearable, she thought, and then instantly felt guilty. Working in the diner wasn't so bad, and she got to spend every day with her family. Her father did the best he could, and she loved the diner, but the idea that her life would never be bigger than that broke her heart a little. And Jim... He made her want to not only speak her dreams aloud but chase after them with everything she had.

They'd descended into silence that was a little too comfortable, and though she didn't quite know what to make of him stroking her hand she didn't want him to stop. The sound of the front door opening broke the silence, and she pulled her hand away sharply. Her eyes flashed to Jim's, full of apology. There was no reason for her to react like that when they weren't doing anything wrong.

She turned to see Kamau walk into the kitchen, and gasped at the sight of him. His eye was black, there was a trickle of blood on his cheek, and his nose looked like it might be broken. “What happened?!” she breathed out, walking towards him to examine his injuries.

Kamau's eyes flickered to Jim, then back to her. “Don't make a fuss, Nyota.”

“Don't make a fuss?! What do you expect me to do when you walk in here looking like this?!” Anger and worry were plain in her voice. “I'll get ice,” she added, grabbing a washcloth to wrap the ice in and walking towards the freezer.

Kamau's face darkened, but he didn't protest. “I take it you're out new musician?” Kamau said to Jim, and then without giving him a chance to respond said to Nyota, “What is he still doing here?”

“Being a gentleman,” Nyota responded angrily. “Which is more than I can say for you."

[owns_the_chair]

The sound of the door startled Jim as much as it did her, and the apology in her eyes when she jerked her hand away was unnecessary. He knew how it would look no matter what they said, and it was really much better no one saw them holding hands, innocent as it was.

And then he finally got to meet Kamau. A bloodied Kamau too, and Jim didn't need to ask any questions to know why he'd been late. Uhura did, but her brother unsurprisingly didn't answer. It grated a little to hear him speak to his sister the way he did, and the dark glare he sent her when she went to get ice made Jim's hackles rise some.

Kamau shifted his attention to Jim then, and to give him the benefit of the doubt, Jim chose to interpret his attitude as concern for his sister and having gone several rounds with something obviously stronger than him. "Yep," Jim smiled sweetly and pushed off the counter to search for a couple of spoons as Uhura got the ice.

Whistling until he found what he was looking for, he drummed a little rhythm on the countertop and moved over to Kamau, studying his face with a discerning eye. "Hrmm... Broken. I'll bet your ribs aren't feeling too good either. Any loose teeth? Cracked knuckles?" Jim smirked and tilted his head to look at Kamau's nose from a different angle. "Gotta admit, that is one beauty of a hit you've taken there. Headbutt, right? It's a little to clean to be a punch."

He twirled one of the spoons with his fingers and called absently to Uhura over his shoulder. "Miss Uhura, I'll need some ice, a couple of clean towels, some antiseptic and some cotton swabs if you have them. And if you've got a couple of shots of something strong back there, I'm sure your brother here will appreciate it."

[nyota_uhura24]

Nyota glanced over her shoulder as Jim addressed her brother. Kamau simply glared in response, expression growing even angrier as Jim smirked and assessed his condition. He seemed on the verge of refusing help for a moment, but when he spoke said only, “Know something about treating broken noses, Kirk? It is Kirk, right?”

It felt as if the tension could be cut with a knife, and though Nyota was angry and worried about her brother's injuries, she could easily sense the growing animosity between Kamau and Jim. It didn't surprise her, but it still made her sad. “You should be grateful he's going to help you,” she called over her shoulder as she collected the materials Jim had asked her to. She found some whiskey to help dull the pain, and walked over to where the two men were standing. “Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?” she asked, examining his face with open concern.

Kamau looked slightly exasperated. “It isn't a big deal. And father doesn't hear about this.”

“It is a big deal, and I don't think there's much chance he won't notice the condition your face is in,” Nyota replied, frustrated and incredulous.

Kamau's eyes flickered back and forth between her and Jim for a moment. “What have you been doing since the diner closed?” he asked, switching to Swahili.

“Talking,” she hissed. “Not that you have any right to interrogate me.” She looked back at Jim, eyes apologetic. “Thank you,” she said to him, and she could practically feel Kamau bristle beside her.

Kamau sneered and said to Jim, “Well, I suppose I should say thank you for helping me out, and for being so kind to my sister."

[owns_the_chair]

"Yup. Jim Kirk, musician and nose-setter extraordinaire," Jim smiled and chilled the spoons on the ice Uhura brought over. "I'm multi-talented," he winked cheekily and for all intents and purposes, seemed completely oblivious to the tension in the room. It was obvious that brother and sister didn't always get along, and it was even more obvious Kamau had taken an instant dislike to him.

Backing Kamau up a little, Jim shrugged casually and took a swig of the whiskey Uhura had brought with his free hand. "Naahh, he'll be fine. It's just a scratch, really. A quick little pop and he'll be right as rain. No need to thank me."

The suspicion with which Kamau looked between the two of them wasn't entirely unexpected and Jim gave him his most innocent smile as he put the backs of the cold spoons on either side of his nose, making him wince a little. The two sibling switched to a language Jim didn't understand, but he didn't really need to comprehend the words to pick up on what was said.

"I'll count to three and if you punch me, I'm going to be very annoyed with you. Ready? One..." Not bothering to count further, he used the element of surprise to keep Kamau from tensing up, and set the nose in a practiced move. A wet crack later and Jim removed the spoons, handing Kamau the bottle after taking another sip himself, and hoping Uhura wasn't too offended by the muttered cursing her brother did.

Whistling again, he put some ice in one of the towels and okay, maybe he could have been more gentle when he put it on Kamau's face and told him to hold it there, but he didn't really have any reason to coddle him.