Playing With Toys: Come Out and Play (Part II/XII)
Title: Playing With Toys: Come Out And Play (Part II)
Author:TeaOli
Characters/Pairings: Uhura, Gaila, Spock, eventually Uhura/Spock
Rating: PG
Warnings: fluff
Summary: Uhura goes out to play.
Read Part I, The Toy
__________________________________________________________
Uhura tugged on the slipping strap and shifted her bag to rest more firmly against her hip. She glanced around the nearly empty grounds by the Computer Science Building. Then, because she couldn’t resist, she slipped her hand under the flap, wormed her finders around three PADDs and a couple of old fashioned books to stroke the soft figure resting at the bottom of the satchel.
She allowed herself a small happy smile before resuming both her habitual no-nonsense expression and her purposeful stride.
_____________________
Spock heard the door chime and checked his internal clock. Cadet Uhura was early. Again. Deciding he would refrain from commenting (again) on her habit of showing up well before their appointed meeting times, he tap the bottom drawer of his desk closed with his right foot at the same time he called for the routinely premature cadet to enter.
The door slid open with a quiet hiss and Uhura walked in, a large dark brown bag pressed against her side. She stood at attention and spoke before he could open his mouth.
“I know,” she said glancing at the chronometer on her wrist, “I’m six minutes and nine seconds early. Again. Thank you agreeing to see me so soon.”
Spock wasn’t sure, but he thought he sensed a touch of sarcasm in her tone.
“You may be seated, Cadet,” was all he said.
She sat and reached into her bag to produce two PADDs.
“I brought a recipe I thought you might like us to try for Thursday’s dinner,” she said, sliding one of the hand-held computers onto his desk. “You mentioned once that you enjoyed Rigelian cuisine, but didn’t know how to prepare any of their dishes. I found this at a new bodega not far from campus that caters to offworlders. They carry all the ingredients we would need, as well.”
The young officer quickly read over the PADD and nodded.
“Very well, Cadet,” he told her. “I will procure the ingredients this week and expect you at my quarters no later than 1900 Thursday evening. Now, if you are ready to begin, we expended your additional six minutes and nine seconds.”
The cadet shifted in her until she was sitting ramrod straight. PADD in hand, she focused on Spock.
“I believe you said we will be working in Andorian today,” she said in that language.
_____________________
An hour and a half later, the cadet left Spock’s office. He was not surprised that she had made considerable progress in her spoken Andorian (she already read like a native) since they’d begun their informal conversation sessions at the beginning of the semester.
By human standards her progress in all four of the languages they practiced was astounding. She worked harder than any of the other cadets he had taught since he had taken the planetside teaching position while Captain Pike waited Starfleet to build his new ship. Since the Enterprise would be completed in just over a year, Spock was fairly certain he would not have an opportunity to me a human who surpassed Cadet Uhura.
He steepled his hands over his desk as he toed open the bottom drawer to his desk. Uhura might have an annoying habit of showing up at inopportune times, but she was good company. He would miss having her in his classes during her final year at the Academy.
The sentiment was illogical, he knew - she was already too knowledgeable for the one language class she took with him and she’d already finished the bulk of her computer science courses. The rest of her Academy career would be predominantly made up of communications engineering classes.
It would be selfish of him to wish to hold herself back just because he enjoyed having a student intelligent enough to challenge him.
Leaning forward, he reached into the drawer. He frowned when he noticed the tiny scrap of red clinging to the drawer slides.
It would seem he would have to purchase sewing supplies when he went to pick up groceries.
__________________________________________________________
Two days later, Spock sat in the common area of his quarters, carefully making tiny stitches with his newly procured needle and thread. The going was slow, as sewing was not an activity in which he had much experience. He was very near the end of his project when the door chimed.
Cadet Uhura.
Early.
Again.
Spock sighed, just barely resisting an impulse to grit his teeth. Truly, Cadet Uhura had a knack for bringing out his human half.
He stashed his sewing project behind one of the decorative pillows his mother had insisted would “brightened up the place a little” and bade the cadet to enter.
She came in looking flushed and excited, once again carrying the dark brown satchel - notable because she usually arrived for their Thursday night cultural exchanges empty-handed unless it was her turn to cook - and a white paper sack.
“Sorry I’m so early,” she said in a rush. (It was 1658.) “But I stopped for dessert on my way here and they had it ready much faster than I anticipated. And it’s so hot outside, I was afraid it would be ruined if I waited before chiming.”
Spock’s eyes flickered over the sack held aloft in her left hand.
“Does your… dessert require refrigeration, Cadet?” he asked, slightly amused. It was not often that Uhura offered an excuse, but when she did, they were usually good. Avoiding food spoilage was a logical enough reason for an early arrival.
Her erect posture drooped in demonstration of her relief.
“Thank you!” she said, offering him a blinding smile.
That was another thing she did not give him very often - a smile - but when she did… Spock broke off that train of thought and reached for the sack. She swung her hand away. He could easily have twitched it away from her, however, as she clearly was not ready to relinquish it, he nodded towards his kitchenette, instead.
“It’s a surprise,” she explained as she moved past him, offering another smile over her shoulder. “I hope it’ll be a good one.”
Spock shook his head once she was facing forward again, and wondered at the normally serious and sedate cadet’s behavior of late. It was unlikely that he would be able to guess, but he was confident he could get to the bottom of the mystery before the end of the evening.
He followed her to the kitchenette and moved to the cook surface while she stashed her dessert in the chiller.
“If you will set the table,” he told her, “our meal will be ready in fifteen point eight minutes.”
His acute allowed him to discern her slight, though abrupt, intake of breath. He glanced over his shoulder to see her standing, stock still, one hand raised towards the cupboard where he stored his small collection of plates.
“Does something distress you, Cadet?” he inquired.
She turned to face him. Her face held none of the joy he had observed upon her entrance.
“You… you started without me?”
He shook off a twinge of annoyance at the human propensity to state the obvious and question statements of facts. It was not an activity Cadet Uhura engaged in very often in his presence. Besides, he admitted to himself, she had every reason to question him tonight. They usually prepared these meals side-by-side.
“As the summer break is almost upon us, and you will soon be occupied with your exams, I thought you might prefer to spend the majority of the evening… talking,” he said. It was not exactly a lie, per se. “It seemed prudent to have the meal already started upon your arrival.”
She glanced down, staring at the floor for a moment before giving a short nod.
“Oh. Okay,” she said, and turned back to cupboard.
He watched as she removed two dinner plates and two small bowls, her movements not as graceful as was her wont. Yes. They would most assuredly be talking later tonight, he decided.
_______________________
Dinner was a much quieter affair than usual, as neither knew much about the food they were consuming, beyond the fact that it tasted good.
“In spite of outward appearances, Rigelian physiology is really quite similar to those of Vulcans and Romulans,” he commented when both of their plates were nearly empty.
She smiled, but it was not the glorious display she had shown earlier in the evening.
“I know,” she said. “I wonder if that’s part of while you enjoy their food so much?”
Spock cocked his head to the side.
“Perhaps, Cadet,” he replied. “Although, the fact that individual tastes vary greatly within a single species would suggest that your hypothesis has little or no merit, it is not unreasonable to suggest that favorable chemical reactions, common to both Rigelians and Vulcans might prove to be a factor in my enjoyment. It would not, however, explain why your plate is nearly empty.” At this, both the corners of his mouth and his right eyebrow rose. He was gratified to see his words and expression earned him another one of her bright smiles.
“Perhaps, Lieutenant,” she said, seeming unaware of mirroring his words, “ we are more alike than we were previously aware.”
Spock watched her intently as a warm flush spread across her cheeks.
“In that you are mistaken, Cadet,” he murmured. “I have been aware for two years, nine months and four days that we have many common interests.”
Uhura nearly choked on her last bite of food.
“Two years, nine months and four days ago couldn’t have been more than a couple of days after you met me, Lieutenant,” she pointed, her eyebrows furrowed. “After you tried to kick me out of your class when I was a first year.”
Spock ignored the mock censure in her tone. She had, very occasionally, teased him about the incident throughout their closer acquaintance.
“Indeed, Cadet,” he said. “It was precisely two days after your first appearance in the graduate-level Vulcan course I was teaching that semester. I checked your records immediately, of course; I understood you had received Professor Merle’s permission to enroll before he was injured and I took over.
“Your full pre-Academy records were unavailable right away, however. Once I read them, and learned of your accomplishments and interests, I no longer had any reservations about accepting you as a student.”
Uhura grinned with real amusement. It was not her gloriously joyful smile, but it had its own merits, Spock reflected.
“So, you thought I was pretty impressive,” she teased.
“Your record showed impressive accomplishments… for a young human woman,” he teased back. “I observed for myself upon first meeting you that you were aesthetically pleasing.”
Uhura froze and her brown skin took on rosy undertones.
Spock froze and his ivory skin flushed pale olive.
“Are you ready for dessert?” she asked, nodding at his empty plate.
Go to Part III
Author:TeaOli
Characters/Pairings: Uhura, Gaila, Spock, eventually Uhura/Spock
Rating: PG
Warnings: fluff
Summary: Uhura goes out to play.
Read Part I, The Toy
__________________________________________________________
Uhura tugged on the slipping strap and shifted her bag to rest more firmly against her hip. She glanced around the nearly empty grounds by the Computer Science Building. Then, because she couldn’t resist, she slipped her hand under the flap, wormed her finders around three PADDs and a couple of old fashioned books to stroke the soft figure resting at the bottom of the satchel.
She allowed herself a small happy smile before resuming both her habitual no-nonsense expression and her purposeful stride.
_____________________
Spock heard the door chime and checked his internal clock. Cadet Uhura was early. Again. Deciding he would refrain from commenting (again) on her habit of showing up well before their appointed meeting times, he tap the bottom drawer of his desk closed with his right foot at the same time he called for the routinely premature cadet to enter.
The door slid open with a quiet hiss and Uhura walked in, a large dark brown bag pressed against her side. She stood at attention and spoke before he could open his mouth.
“I know,” she said glancing at the chronometer on her wrist, “I’m six minutes and nine seconds early. Again. Thank you agreeing to see me so soon.”
Spock wasn’t sure, but he thought he sensed a touch of sarcasm in her tone.
“You may be seated, Cadet,” was all he said.
She sat and reached into her bag to produce two PADDs.
“I brought a recipe I thought you might like us to try for Thursday’s dinner,” she said, sliding one of the hand-held computers onto his desk. “You mentioned once that you enjoyed Rigelian cuisine, but didn’t know how to prepare any of their dishes. I found this at a new bodega not far from campus that caters to offworlders. They carry all the ingredients we would need, as well.”
The young officer quickly read over the PADD and nodded.
“Very well, Cadet,” he told her. “I will procure the ingredients this week and expect you at my quarters no later than 1900 Thursday evening. Now, if you are ready to begin, we expended your additional six minutes and nine seconds.”
The cadet shifted in her until she was sitting ramrod straight. PADD in hand, she focused on Spock.
“I believe you said we will be working in Andorian today,” she said in that language.
_____________________
An hour and a half later, the cadet left Spock’s office. He was not surprised that she had made considerable progress in her spoken Andorian (she already read like a native) since they’d begun their informal conversation sessions at the beginning of the semester.
By human standards her progress in all four of the languages they practiced was astounding. She worked harder than any of the other cadets he had taught since he had taken the planetside teaching position while Captain Pike waited Starfleet to build his new ship. Since the Enterprise would be completed in just over a year, Spock was fairly certain he would not have an opportunity to me a human who surpassed Cadet Uhura.
He steepled his hands over his desk as he toed open the bottom drawer to his desk. Uhura might have an annoying habit of showing up at inopportune times, but she was good company. He would miss having her in his classes during her final year at the Academy.
The sentiment was illogical, he knew - she was already too knowledgeable for the one language class she took with him and she’d already finished the bulk of her computer science courses. The rest of her Academy career would be predominantly made up of communications engineering classes.
It would be selfish of him to wish to hold herself back just because he enjoyed having a student intelligent enough to challenge him.
Leaning forward, he reached into the drawer. He frowned when he noticed the tiny scrap of red clinging to the drawer slides.
It would seem he would have to purchase sewing supplies when he went to pick up groceries.
__________________________________________________________
Two days later, Spock sat in the common area of his quarters, carefully making tiny stitches with his newly procured needle and thread. The going was slow, as sewing was not an activity in which he had much experience. He was very near the end of his project when the door chimed.
Cadet Uhura.
Early.
Again.
Spock sighed, just barely resisting an impulse to grit his teeth. Truly, Cadet Uhura had a knack for bringing out his human half.
He stashed his sewing project behind one of the decorative pillows his mother had insisted would “brightened up the place a little” and bade the cadet to enter.
She came in looking flushed and excited, once again carrying the dark brown satchel - notable because she usually arrived for their Thursday night cultural exchanges empty-handed unless it was her turn to cook - and a white paper sack.
“Sorry I’m so early,” she said in a rush. (It was 1658.) “But I stopped for dessert on my way here and they had it ready much faster than I anticipated. And it’s so hot outside, I was afraid it would be ruined if I waited before chiming.”
Spock’s eyes flickered over the sack held aloft in her left hand.
“Does your… dessert require refrigeration, Cadet?” he asked, slightly amused. It was not often that Uhura offered an excuse, but when she did, they were usually good. Avoiding food spoilage was a logical enough reason for an early arrival.
Her erect posture drooped in demonstration of her relief.
“Thank you!” she said, offering him a blinding smile.
That was another thing she did not give him very often - a smile - but when she did… Spock broke off that train of thought and reached for the sack. She swung her hand away. He could easily have twitched it away from her, however, as she clearly was not ready to relinquish it, he nodded towards his kitchenette, instead.
“It’s a surprise,” she explained as she moved past him, offering another smile over her shoulder. “I hope it’ll be a good one.”
Spock shook his head once she was facing forward again, and wondered at the normally serious and sedate cadet’s behavior of late. It was unlikely that he would be able to guess, but he was confident he could get to the bottom of the mystery before the end of the evening.
He followed her to the kitchenette and moved to the cook surface while she stashed her dessert in the chiller.
“If you will set the table,” he told her, “our meal will be ready in fifteen point eight minutes.”
His acute allowed him to discern her slight, though abrupt, intake of breath. He glanced over his shoulder to see her standing, stock still, one hand raised towards the cupboard where he stored his small collection of plates.
“Does something distress you, Cadet?” he inquired.
She turned to face him. Her face held none of the joy he had observed upon her entrance.
“You… you started without me?”
He shook off a twinge of annoyance at the human propensity to state the obvious and question statements of facts. It was not an activity Cadet Uhura engaged in very often in his presence. Besides, he admitted to himself, she had every reason to question him tonight. They usually prepared these meals side-by-side.
“As the summer break is almost upon us, and you will soon be occupied with your exams, I thought you might prefer to spend the majority of the evening… talking,” he said. It was not exactly a lie, per se. “It seemed prudent to have the meal already started upon your arrival.”
She glanced down, staring at the floor for a moment before giving a short nod.
“Oh. Okay,” she said, and turned back to cupboard.
He watched as she removed two dinner plates and two small bowls, her movements not as graceful as was her wont. Yes. They would most assuredly be talking later tonight, he decided.
_______________________
Dinner was a much quieter affair than usual, as neither knew much about the food they were consuming, beyond the fact that it tasted good.
“In spite of outward appearances, Rigelian physiology is really quite similar to those of Vulcans and Romulans,” he commented when both of their plates were nearly empty.
She smiled, but it was not the glorious display she had shown earlier in the evening.
“I know,” she said. “I wonder if that’s part of while you enjoy their food so much?”
Spock cocked his head to the side.
“Perhaps, Cadet,” he replied. “Although, the fact that individual tastes vary greatly within a single species would suggest that your hypothesis has little or no merit, it is not unreasonable to suggest that favorable chemical reactions, common to both Rigelians and Vulcans might prove to be a factor in my enjoyment. It would not, however, explain why your plate is nearly empty.” At this, both the corners of his mouth and his right eyebrow rose. He was gratified to see his words and expression earned him another one of her bright smiles.
“Perhaps, Lieutenant,” she said, seeming unaware of mirroring his words, “ we are more alike than we were previously aware.”
Spock watched her intently as a warm flush spread across her cheeks.
“In that you are mistaken, Cadet,” he murmured. “I have been aware for two years, nine months and four days that we have many common interests.”
Uhura nearly choked on her last bite of food.
“Two years, nine months and four days ago couldn’t have been more than a couple of days after you met me, Lieutenant,” she pointed, her eyebrows furrowed. “After you tried to kick me out of your class when I was a first year.”
Spock ignored the mock censure in her tone. She had, very occasionally, teased him about the incident throughout their closer acquaintance.
“Indeed, Cadet,” he said. “It was precisely two days after your first appearance in the graduate-level Vulcan course I was teaching that semester. I checked your records immediately, of course; I understood you had received Professor Merle’s permission to enroll before he was injured and I took over.
“Your full pre-Academy records were unavailable right away, however. Once I read them, and learned of your accomplishments and interests, I no longer had any reservations about accepting you as a student.”
Uhura grinned with real amusement. It was not her gloriously joyful smile, but it had its own merits, Spock reflected.
“So, you thought I was pretty impressive,” she teased.
“Your record showed impressive accomplishments… for a young human woman,” he teased back. “I observed for myself upon first meeting you that you were aesthetically pleasing.”
Uhura froze and her brown skin took on rosy undertones.
Spock froze and his ivory skin flushed pale olive.
“Are you ready for dessert?” she asked, nodding at his empty plate.
Go to Part III