If I owned the characters, I'd be doing a lot more than writing silly fics about them!

The first time she told him she loved him, it didn't really mean much.

It had been another long day of work, punctuated by several cups of tea and her near-constant yawning as the hours flew by. She sat at her desk, head resting sleepily on her crossed arms. As interesting as her work with Spock could be - and she truly did find it interesting, most of the time - Nyota was simply exhausted. So, when her already heavy-lidded eyes began to slip shut, she barely even noticed.

"Cadet Uhura?" Spock questioned, watching as his aide's eyes blinked furiously. "Are you asleep?" He took her response - a groan - as an affirmative. "You are free to retire to your dorm whenever you see fit, Cadet."

That, Spock noticed, woke her immediately. Nyota stood, stretching her arms above her head and nodding. "Mm, really? Oh, I love you right now," she murmured. "I'm taking you up on that offer, Commander."

And with that, she hastily - yet groggily - departed, leaving Spock alone to ponder the meanings and usage of such a phrase. Humans were, he concluded, simply illogical.

The second time she told him she loved him, he wasn't sure she meant to say it.

Spock had arrived at her room at precisely noon, just as he had said he would, with a single rose in his hand. He offered it to her in silence, his stance oddly stiff. "Happy Valentine's Day, Nyota." His eyes remained downcast, following the rose with a look that could only be described as horrified.

Nyota stifled a giggle at his awkwardness - she should have predicted that he'd view the holiday with some degree of distaste - and instead wrapped her arms around his torso. "Thanks, Spock. You're the best."

His brow was furrowed, mind working furiously to sort out the lack of logic in her words. "While you lack the evidence to support that statement, I respect its intentions. I fully doubt, however, that I am indeed 'the best,' as you say."

"Oh, be quiet. It was a compliment. Valentine's Day isn't supposed to be logical; just let me love you."

There was, he reasoned, a great deal of logic in that.

The third time she told him she loved him, it was a congratulations.

"First Officer?" she cried, eyebrows reaching almost Vulcan-like heights. "You're going to be First Officer of the Enterprise and you're just telling me this now?"

Spock recognized the exasperation in her tone - an emotion that was present exactly 12.43% of the time, he noted. "I did not realize this was a cause of alarm, and so I apologize for not bringing the issue to light sooner." Apparently his calculations had been wrong: this was an issue that he should've broached sooner.

"Alarm? I'm not alarmed! This is fantastic, Spock. That's amazing!"

"Indeed?"

Nyota merely rolled her eyes. "Yes, indeed. You're stationed on the Enterprise."

"That is what I said, was it not?" Spock raised one eyebrow, and Nyota knew then that he was making fun of her and her highly illogical excitement.

"You're such a Vulcan," she teased. "But I love you anyways. C'mere, you get a hug."

The fourth time she told him she loved him, she also wanted to hit him.

"So why wasn't I stationed on the Enterprise again?" She leaned over, watching his fingers move nimbly over the PADD in his hands. Her legs were sprawled out over the couch, her head resting on his shoulder.

"As I stated earlier, I wished to avoid a show of what could be seen by many as fav-"

Nyota cut him off with a nudge, grumpily standing up from the comfortable couch. "Oh, because so many people know about us, right? That's dumb, Spock." She pointed at him with one finger, the other hand resting on her hip. It didn't take any calculations for Spock to realize that this position did not carry favorable connotations.

A look of confusion flicked across his otherwise blank features. "It was not, as you say, 'dumb.' It was highly logical given the situation at hand."

She sighed, her glare half-hearted. "You and your logic," Nyota murmured, seemingly to herself. Before he could interject, a grin tugged at her lips. "Well, I'm here now. As much as I love you, you can be so senseless."

Spock didn't know whether to take the remark as an insult or a compliment; the 87.39% probability that she was about to rejoin him on the couch, however, suggested an answer.

The fifth time she told him she loved him, he didn't feel he deserved it.

The elevator door clicked shut immediately after she stepped in, much to his dismay. It wasn't as if he didn't yearn for her company - indeed, he found himself craving it - but he feared his control was waning.

She reached out, stopping the lift. "What do you need? Tell me."

And suddenly he wanted to tell her everything: how he saw his mother slip from his grasp and fall; how, in that moment, all he felt was love; how he couldn't help but imagine losing Nyota now, too. But his face remained a careful, fragile mask, betraying none of the frantic mess of emotions that lay just beneath the surface.

The words caught in his throat, and Spock found himself unable to voice what he had seen. Instead he simply murmured, "I need everyone to continue performing admirably."

Nyota nodded, an understanding visible in her gaze. "I love you, Spock. Whatever happens, remember that."

When he finally told her he loved her, she wasn't there to hear it.

The probability that their mission would succeed was dismally low: less than 5%, as he had calculated it. It was, though, the only logical course of action, and a lapse in control was no excuse for a lack of logic.

"Captain?" he began. "The statistical likelihood that our plan will succeed is less than 4.3% and-"

"Spock, stop. We're going to make it, okay?" Kirk spoke firmly, yet Spock couldn't help but notice a glimmer of fear in the Captain's eyes.

"I apologize. I did not wish to cause doubts about our plan of action." He paused, willing himself to be able to voice the words he wished to say. "I merely wished to ask you, in the event that I do not return, to tell Lieutenant Uhura that I love her."

Kirk glanced at him in surprise, but said nothing. "We'll make it, Spock. I promise."

Spock took this as an agreement, not even bothering to ponder the illogicality of such a promise. After all, if human emotions like love could be so enjoyable, certainly illogical reassurances could be as well.

"But, yeah, Spock. I will. I don't think I'll need to, though." Spock glanced at the Kirk in confusion; Kirk chuckled in response. "You don't need to say it. She knows."

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