She's like a goddess in his eyes. He realizes, though doesn't acknowledge, this fact the first moment he sees her. She's the bright young student in his xenolinguistics class, and he can't keep his eyes off her. It takes all of his hard-earned control to not pay attention to her, all that class. And the next. And the next. And before he knows it, she invades his thoughts in his waking moments, his dreams when he is asleep. It is in no way appropriate for him to be thinking about her in such a context. But by then it's too late to stop it.
He's not sure when his strange infatuation began. Maybe it was the first time she answered a question in his class, and he realized she was out of the ordinary. Maybe it was when he graded her midterm – her perfect midterm – and realized that she was truly extraordinary. Or maybe it was when she came to his office, her eyes sparking with anger as she demanded to know why she had been given a 99% on her paper, instead of the 100% she thought she deserved. She had been so angry when he calmly told her that he thought perfection unachievable. Her quick reply was that of course it was unachievable if he didn't give it to her. It took all his willpower in that moment not to tell her just how perfect she was.
Whenever that moment was, Spock knows there was a moment when he could have said no to her. Long ago, before she had so captivated him that he knew there was no going back, there was a moment when their lives could have gone on other paths. When they could have separated as teacher and student, and never again interacted. And he chose another path. It wasn't even a conscious decision, but now that it is past he knows he could have.
She's in his office again, studying a document carefully. As his graduate assistant, they are required to spend long hours together researching and grading papers. He will not admit, even to himself, that he relishes and looks forward to the time they spend together.
They are sitting close together, their heads bent over the same translation.
"This is interesting," she said.
"I concur. It is an interesting use of the Vulcan verb," he replies, trying to ignore the emotions her proximity is stirring in him.
"A more archaic form," she murmurs, her eyes tracing the page. "Do you think –" she looks up suddenly as he looks down, and their noses almost bump.
"Oh, sorry," she says, turning away. A blush rises on her cheeks, and he wonders if she is embarrassed at the blunder, or by his physical closeness.
"It is my fault, Cadet Uhura," he says smoothly. "The words on the page are of such a size that they facilitate literal close reading."
"Nyota," she murmurs.
Spock raises one eyebrow.
"My first name," she explains. "Is Nyota. I would be… more comfortable if you used it in these informal settings."
"Nyota." Her name seems to roll off his tongue like water off silk. He rolls it around in his mouth, enjoying the feel of it on his tongue. He knows it means 'star', in a human dialect. The edges of his mouth curl up in a smile at the appropriateness of the name. Not only because she has joined Starfleet, to journey to the stars, but because she is a shining jewel, sparkling brightly in his mind.
The blush seems to darken in her dusky cheeks.
A thought enters his head, one he is not sure he should voice. But he finds himself doing it anyways.
"You must call me Spock, in informal settings such as these."
"Of course, Prof… Spock. Of course, Spock."
He likes the way she says his name. It is very different when there is no salutation attached to it. Suddenly, it is very personal. Almost intimate. He wonders if he has done the right thing in asking it of her.
"What do you think of this passage here?" he asks her, to distract himself from the unfamiliar joy he feels at the sound of his name on her lips.
"It can be taken in two ways, can't it?"
"Indeed," he says, studiously avoiding her gaze "I believe you call it a 'pun'."
Her eyes widen with amusement.
"It's a Vulcan joke?" she asks.
"I believe so," he answers, keeping his voice as level as ever.
"I wasn't aware Vulcans had a sense of humour," she murmurs softly, looking down at the text again.
He raises an eyebrow at her. Is she teasing him? Humour dances in her dark eyes, and he realizes that if he is not careful, he will drown in their depths.
The corners of his mouth curl up in spite of himself into his version of a smile. She sees it, and smiles back. No more words are necessary as they bend over the text again.
"This is an ancient passage," he says. "It chronicles the rise of a legendary figure, who brought the Vulcans out of their barbaric state of emotionalism and into logic and peace."
"Your mythology is fascinating," she says, and he can't help but feel an irrational surge of joy that she would think so.
"Not many people think as you do," he says. "The history of Vulcan is considered very dry."
"That's because people don't read it right," she says. "They don't have a Vulcan to help them see it right."
She looks up at him again, with smiling eyes, at the same moment that he also looks up. Again, they are almost nose to nose. Despite his usually iron grip on his emotions, Spock feels his heart begin to beat faster.
"Nyota, I…"
She is so close, her beautiful eyes looking straight at him, that he thinks perhaps she can see into his soul. He almost stops breathing. And before his logical side can kick in, and force him to move away, before he can think about his actions, or their consequences, his lips are on hers.
She is heaven. A goddess. She tastes like sunlight; like the hot sands of Vulcan; like the coolness of reason where his shelter is. He has imagined this moment for so long, and suddenly, with a release of tightly-held emotion, it is here. Her soft lips under his, their motion together, how right it feels to be kissing her.
But then he realizes what he is doing. She is a cadet. He is an instructor. This is wrong. He pulls away, suddenly stricken. What has he done?
"Cadet Uhura, I apologize. That was inexcusable, and I…"
But he cannot finish his sentence, because suddenly his lips are otherwise occupied. She is kissing him back, with a fire and a passion that he has never known before. He is swept along with it, leaving his calm reason far behind him.
"It's Nyota, remember?" she says when she finally pulls away.
"Nyota," he repeats, before pulling her close once again.
No more words are necessary.
Author's Note: Since I'm on a roll, I thought it would be fun to write a little bit of introspection on how I think Spock sees Uhura, which I'd imagine is very different from how she sees him. I think that he was in love with her long before she was with him, maybe from the first moment he saw her, and he just didn't know how to deal with it because he's never had to before.
That, and I'm a hopeless romantic. Also, studying is boring, and writing is much more fun.