Disclaimer: I wish I owned Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures so I could own Star Trek, but I don't. And I don't own JJ Abrams, although I'd like to.

Reviews: Please! I don't have a Beta and I'm sure there's errors in here. Do tell me of them, even if their small and insignificant overall.

Pairing: Spock/Uhura

Warning: first star trek fanfic.

Rating: technically k+, but I always think those seem 'kiddy' so i'll say it's T

Nyota's quarters was the most preferred room for this activity, his were out of the question. It wasn't that he prohibited her access, but she had created a logical argument that her quarters were more comfortable for the task.

She's been in his room a few times; he even mentioned that she is traveling a course that will lead to her inhabiting with him because of the high frequently rates in which she visits. However, what makes the grandest difference between their respective rooms -besides size- is a "human touch" as Uhura puts it. Spock's room is Spartan; despite the higher temperature that he sets the thermostat is, his room receives cold colors. To put it simply, the differentiating yet eclectic shades are of grey and black. Each furniture set is spaced with a calculated equidistant distance. It looks like an office rather than living space. The only thing that is almost un-Vulcan is two canvases: one in the living room and in the sleeping alcove. The one in the living room is very vibrant, but composes only reds and alternating browns. The pastel, charcoal, and ink-inspired art piece portrays a catacomb and stalagmites juxtaposed. It is of Vulcan and he treasures it by having it up for all who are granted access to his room, to see. The second painting is a creative water-color piece that plays homage to an African Serengeti. This holds far more colors: greens, browns, oranges, reds, and shockingly purple for the sunrise. Within the picture, the gazelle lies lazily by the lioness, the elephant uses its trunk to drink from a name-less river, while crocodiles smile from the surface. It is very illogical, and yet, he finds himself staring at it everyday before his shift begins.

Nyota's accommodations are very different. They have, as she so often says, "knick knacks". They have pictures of family and friends from all over the world and galaxy. There's a holopicture of a young Nyota Uhura with her grandmother lighting fireworks and grinning wickedly as the grandfather jumps in accompaniment of a loud "BOOM!"; one of the Uhura family through its four generations-the majority being women and a few being proud, yet humble men-; another of her father and mother hugging her as she is accepted by the Starfleet Academy: one of her hugging Lenard McCoy during his 30th birthday before Kirk throws a replicated cream pie at his face; one with her dancing with a very flustered Pavel Chekov; Scotty and her dressed in old 1960's attire for a halloween-costume party, arms around each other's waist; and the last… the last is her favorite. A very rare, yet priceless hologram is of Spock standing not with his hands grasped behind his back, but one hand holding Uhura's as he tilts his head and arches an eyebrow, mouthing a soundless "fascinating". It is clear why this is the best destination for this activity. Memories have been etched here far more than the other abode, though they hope to change that soon.

He received the request to join her for an experiment in her quarters. And of course, such a inquiry elicited curiosity and caused him to acquiesce.

She glanced at him -though her arm still extended in front of her, fingers still grasped around the hilt of the spoon that held a mound of smooth ice cream- and thought: It was now or never. He had glanced at the terran food and at her mannerism for trying to (dare he say it), spoon feed him. He had asked why, not already aware that she had planned a debate.

"To define and explain said action to fit your logical parameters can never be exact. To use a simile, it is like your educational studies on Vulcan..." He quirked an eyebrow ever so slightly that only one who knew of his mannerisms could tell that it wasn't its usual arch. It marked curiosity and bemusement. She knew enough of his speech patterns to throw logic back in his face, in a more detailed, eloquent way. She smiled slightly, not wanting to lose her train of thought and continued, "The Vulcan system taught discipline and through the rigorous studies imposed, it allowed you to excel at various field studies: mathematics, science, physics," and here she did an eloquent swirl of her left hand, while her right held the spoon of a lesser mound of ice cream. She had to hurry!

"Like the Vulcan way has prepared you for many things in life, by indulging in tasting this ice cream, you will experience human relationships subjectively and succeed to the next step of such relationship."

At this, his right eyebrow raised even higher, the faint outline of the ridge almost disappeared into his hairline. "And what would that said proceeding step be?" he asked, still eying the strange concoction. It was indeed fascinating to see the contents change from its not-so-quite solid state towards a liquid. Was it simply the temperature of the room that caused the slow transformation? If so, what would be the mathematical time difference of melting if the temperature had been colder. Perhaps he would ask the computer of further information regarding the content's nutritional and compositional data.

"You'll have to find out, Commander," she smirked. Hook, Line, And....she thought, pausing mentally as she physically withdrew from breathing-would he do it?

Spock slowly leaned forward before closing his lips around the concave metal spoon. When he returned to his stoic position, the spoon was void of ice cream.

"Soooo?" Uhura said, bringing her hand back to the bowl to scoop another mound of Vanilla Bean ice cream and finally bringing it to her own lips.

"It is...palatable," he said, his eyebrow sliding back to its normal position.

"Oh," she said, slightly disappointed. There goes a delicious terran food that we can eat together. "If you like we can go back to the mess hall and retrieve something else. Perhaps we can see if the replicator has good Vulcan teas?"

"Perhaps...since I did not get an adequate amount of ice cream, a second helping is in order?" His face was placid, void of all emotions, but his eyes betrayed him. There was....even more amusement.

She smiled wryly, knowing that her manipulation worked all along. She used the singular spoon and brought it once more to his lips and this time he was a little less forthright in his resistance. She then moved her hand away to bring it back to an almost depleted bowl of ice cream when his hand rested upon her wrist, "May I?" he asked.

She gave the spoon to him wondering if he was going to slowly scoop the remainder and contemplate on adjectives to describe its flavor.

She was not expecting to have the spoon mere centimeters from her own lips. "What are you doing," she asked, although she acknowledged that now their roles were reversed.

"Do you not wish to succeed in taking the "next" step in our relationship," he asked, his right eyebrow arching ever so slightly to illustrate his...amusement of a different sort.

Unfortunately, when she opened her mouth, the spoon was pushed unceremoniously into her mouth, and she fought hard not to commence a spluttering of coughs. It was a good thing it had been ice cream and not grapes!

"Was the action flawed?"

She smiled still trying to breathe at a normal rate, "Perhaps a bit gentler," she looked at the bowl now filled with a small pool of what used to be a delight, "next time"

"I can venture to the Mess Hall and replicate several bowls for more practice," he said, rising from his cross-legged position.

"Oh no!" she said trying to suppress her laughter, "ice cream must be savored Spock, you don't want to eat it THAT much! Besides, it is not good to indulge in it too often because of its high level in fats." She leaned in forward as if to tell him something of either upmost secrecy or upmost urgency. "How about every two weeks we will eat ice cream and even try different flavors. How does that sound?"

"Agreeable"

Later he stands in front of the painting above his bed, and after trying for a sound thirty-five point five-two minutes to read findings on his PADD with stylus in hand, he gives into curiosity. "Computer" he monotonously says waiting for the two beep sound to announce vocal acknowledgment, "please list data of the Terran treat, ice cream."

"Listing..."the computer made a whirr as it went through dozens and dozens of archives.

ice-cream is a frozen dessert usually made from dairy products , such as milk and cream, combined with fruits or other ingredients and flavors. Most varieties contain sugar, although some are made with other sweeteners . In some cases, artificial flavorings and colorings are used in addition to (or in replacement of) the natural ingredients. This mixture is stirred slowly while cooling to prevent large ice crystals from forming; the result is a smoothly textured ice cream. Continue, Commander Spock?"

"Yes."

"Retrieving nutritional data." One beep. "Data received. Ice cream may have the following composition:

Greater than 10% milkfat and usually between 10% and as high as 16% fat in some premium ice creams:
9 to 12% milk solids-not-fat: this component, also known as the serum solids, contains the proteins (caseins and whey proteins) and carbohydrates (lactose) found in milk. It has over 300 flavors. Shall I list?"

"Please do."

An hour and a half later, he decides that "Cookies N' Cream" will be his next choice two weeks from now. It's only logical

The End