Author's Note: It has taken me an incredibly long time for this story to be where I want it. Let me know what you think, and if you have any suggestions.

A Cup of Tea

There was a part of Counselor Kitka Orion that thought this wasn't such a good idea. Considering her education in the Vulcan culture, she knew that gift-giving wasn't a typically welcomed occurrence. In addition, Spock was her superior officer. Would he consider this fraternizing with a subordinate?

She stood outside of Commander Spock's quarters, with the package tucked under her arm. It took a moment for her to gather the bravery to ring the door bell. In that same moment, she began to second guess herself. Was this inappropriate? Should she just turn around and leave the package at his door step? Peering down at the brown, paper-wrapped parcel, she thought of the original reason why she purchased it in the first place.

Vulcan was gone. The planet that on which Spock was born and raised was now a stack of rubble. Kitka couldn't imagine what would happen if Axis 7 were destroyed. The destruction of Vulcan had occurred years ago, and Vulcan 2 was developing quite nicely, from what Kitka read in intergalactic articles and news readers. However, to lose such a huge part of you, that must have been tough, right? And it wasn't like Kit was confessing her love or anything to the man. She was simply trying to give him a piece of his home planet back.

Taking in a deep sigh, Kit pushed away all of her second thoughts, embraced the choice she'd made to present this gift, and pressed the door bell at Commander Spock's quarters.

The seconds crawled by slower than she registered. A mere minute felt like ages, causing her to over analyze the time it took for Commander Spock to stop whatever he was doing and make his way to the door. She knew that she was thinking herself in a circle, and tried to tuck away those flooding emotions she seemed to have trouble with sometimes.

Before she knew it, the automatic doors slid open, and before her stood tall, expressionless Commander Spock. As the doors initially opened, he stood straight, staring directly forward. As a second or two passed, and he was given the opportunity to register that it was in fact Counselor Kitka Orion at the door, he – as much as a Vulcan was capable of – relaxed.

"Counselor Orion?" said Spock, furrowing a brow in confusion at her presence outside his quarters.

Kit always thought to herself that the only two emotions Vulcans were ever willing to show were curiosity and being a smartass.

"Were the statistics that I gave you earlier inadequate?"

"Hello, Mr. Spock," she greeted appropriately. "The information that you provided me with earlier was quite adequate, actually, to say the least."

He cocked his head, ever so slightly, to the side. "Then what is it?"

Kit wasn't sure exactly where to go from here. She mentally rummaged through her knowledge of the Vulcan culture and through her personal experiences with Commander Spock over the last six weeks. He was Vulcan, but his half human part provided a relatable side to him, that perhaps he may not be even aware of. But Counselor Kitka Orion, a psychology professional amongst the U.S.S Enterprise, was totally aware. She was sure that he would handle any situation he was placed in as a model Vulcan, but she knew there was a little human in there somewhere, no matter how repressed it might have become over the years.

Looking up at Commander Spock, Kit handled the situation in the best manner she could think of: honesty.

"I can tell you're a little confused," she said. "I'm sure this isn't going to help, but may I come in for a moment to explain?"

There was a moment of silence from Spock, whose expression did not change at all. After his pause, he said, "I'm sorry, Counselor, but I don't think that would be appropriate-"

"Mr. Spock, we have been working together for six weeks, now. Have I exhibited any signs at all of inappropriate behavior?"

There was another moment of silence. Kit knew that Commander Spock was recalling, calculating, and deciding if she had or had not formerly exhibited any signs of misconduct. Sure, her randomly showing up here unannounced probably wasn't that great, but she knew that her clean record would possibly provide her with the benefit of the doubt.

Once Commander Spock had made his decision, he stepped aside, allowing Kit to gain entry. "You have performed quite appropriately over the course of our research and investigations." His tone was very matter-of-fact.

With a smile, that probably didn't make any difference, Kit stepped into Commander Spock's quarters. It was very bare, with only the few essentials. Most habitants of the Enterprise had a typical living space, cluttered with personal items and belongings, things that brought them comfort and joy. It made total sense to the Counselor that a Vulcan would lack such small nothings. They were unneeded, illogical, or merely took up space.

Surely, Commander Spock had caught sight of the parcel in Kit's hands by now, but he did not comment on it, as he probably didn't assume it was for him. Why would anyone be gifting anything to Spock?

"I'd like to, first, apologize for intruding without any notice," said Kit, eyes quickly surveying the room, taking in the random bits of information a Psychologist would mentally record in such a situation. Mostly, Kit felt like it was appropriate to apologize. She didn't necessarily want to. She felt a little silly apologizing, considering the amount of time that she and Spock had spent, constantly, for the last six weeks. She almost dared to assume that he'd become almost comfortable with her, as much as a Vulcan would bear. Comfort, a very human desire.

Commander Spock didn't say anything like, "Oh, no problem!" or, "No worries! I was just watching a movie!" or, "I was just about to visit the holosuite. Would you like to join me?" Instead, he stood in front of the closed doorway to his quarters, arms behind his back, waiting for Kit to explain exactly why she was here. She wasn't surprised, and because of that, wasn't necessarily offended. She knew how Vulcans were, and had no intentions of expecting a Vulcan to act human, even if he was half human. It was, as Spock himself would say, illogical. Why would a cat act like a dog?

"I understand that Vulcan 2 has been developing quite nicely, and that Vulcans have begun to call it home," explained Kitka, as she held the parcel up to Spock. She took a step toward the man, and peered up at his expressionless face, trying herself not to smile, and to remain calm and collected. "Even though I know not at all what it's like to lose your home, I still empathize with you."

"Vulcans do not need empathy," Spock interrupted, in his usual matter-of-factly tone.

Kit brushed it off, understanding that this simply was just his way.

"I know, Mr. Spock. However, I have come to accept that you are Vulcan, and approach all things from a logical stand point."

She saw a break in Spock's lack of expression as his brows furrowed, that natural, Vulcan curiosity peaked. Kit could tell that he understood what he was saying.

"That, you have been," Spock responded. "Very understanding."

She knew it was his way of saying, "thank you," but Vulcans don't say "thank you."

"In return," Kit continued, "I would hope that you would respect and accept that I am not Vulcan, nor from Earth, as are most of your colleagues. I feel differently than not only Vulcans, but differently than your Earth colleagues as well. On Axis 7," she explained, "empathy is a strong part of our culture. We express gratitude, sorrow, and love differently than many races."

"I will say that humans are most confusing at times."

Kit couldn't help but chuckle. "Don't worry. They confuse me, too, sometimes, and my job is to understand them."

She turned around, and approached Commander Spock's dining table. The table was placed against the large window, out looking space, providing a clear view to the Scion moon, the home to the colonists that they had been researching. Kitka was grateful for the opportunity, because having met Spock was one of the most interesting things that could have happened to her. One who controls all emotion was a medical marvel to most psychologists.

As Kit placed the package on Commander Spock's dining table, she glanced through the window admiring the sparkling stars that stretched into infinity. In the back of her mind, she was disappointed that Spock, being a Vulcan, would never truly be able to appreciate its beauty.

"Anyway," Kit continued, "I'll cut to the chase. Last week, when I took my three days of sick leave, I was contacted by a merchant. See, I collect artifacts. It's always been a passion of mine. My usual merchant makes sure to contact me whenever he finds something interesting." Kit turned her back to Commander Spock, to the brown paper wrapped parcel, and began to unwrap it. "I was really excited when he told me he'd found this." Kit turned to Spock and took a few steps toward him, closing the space between the dining table and the door of his apartment. In her hands, she held a small, red paper bag, covered with Vulcan script.

At the sight of it, Spock's eyes widened, recognizing the Vulcan writing on the package.

"An old Vulcan woman, who lived in the mountains near the equator used to grow these tea leaves." Kit held the package to Spock. "My merchant told me that it had become widely sought after by Vulcans, travelers, and collectors alike after the destruction of your home planet."

If Kitka could count the amount of times, on her hands, that Spock showed emotion – she'd have no hands, because he never showed any emotion. Sure, he was frequently a smartass, as most Vulcans were in her opinion, and he was curious, which was also a Vulcan characteristic. But she saw a change in his eyes, in his entire face, as he closed the remaining short space in between them, took the small red bag from her hands, and gazed down at it.

For a moment, Kit didn't really know how to handle it. Spock peered down at this parcel, with such, as it seemed, longing. She wasn't sure what to do. This was fascinating. She thought he remained calm, cool, and logical at all times, but right now… he was showing emotion? Was he okay? But should she really be surprised, she wondered? This man lost his planet. On top of that, he was half human. She knew there was human in there somewhere and by the looks of it – Spock staring down at this bag of tea so deeply – this was what it looked like. This was Spock's human side. And surely the destruction of one's home planet would even emotionally cripple a full-blooded Vulcan, wouldn't it?

"There were fifty-six bags he could get his hands on," said Kit. "I told him to just buy everything he could find, and I bought it all. If there was more, I would have gotten it for you."

He said nothing. Merely looking down at the bag, he was silent.

She looked up at him with a curious expression, worried by his silence. "I told him to keep me updated if he finds anymore, and to keep an eye out, but so far-"

And without warning, Spock looked up from his bag, one of the last bags of authentically grown Vulcan Mountain Flower tea, and finally spoke. "Thank you."

Kit's eyes widened. What? She couldn't believe her ears. But Vulcans don't say thank you, she thought.

Spock made his way around Kitka, toward the replicator in the back of the room. "My Mother used to brew this for me when I was a child," said Spock, as he pulled two mugs from the shelf above the replicator. "It was actually her favorite tea. She preferred it to all brews." He placed the two mugs inside the replicator, pressed the hot water button, and a stream of steaming hot, purified water, shot into each of the mugs. He opened the red bag and pulled out two tea bags, throwing either one into a hot mug.

Kit imagined what Spock's mother was like. She knew she was human, and thought that she must have been a magnificent woman. She was the human inside of him. Vulcans were highly emotional creatures, but they were masters at controlling, and even at times suppressing it. You never saw a Vulcan show emotion. However, every tidbit of emotion that Kit would ever see seep from Commander Spock – which she knew would be so incredibly rare – would be thanks to his Mother. She was a part of him, and Kitka quite liked Spock. She more than liked him, actually. She quite adored him, but threw that dream away a long time ago. But Kitka could still appreciate the woman that she was because of her contribution to the person's existence who stood in front of her.

Spock made his way from the replicator with the two mug of tea, sat at the table she'd placed the parcel on earlier, and sat down each mug of tea. He sat down in the closest chair, and motioned to the second mug. "Sit."

Her eyes widened. He'd made her a cup of tea? Okay, I think you just got a little too human for me to handle, Spock. Hesitant at first and not wanting to seem rude, she slowly walked over to the table and took a seat, taking the mug between her finger tips.

"How…are your reports coming along, Counselor Orion?" Spock had hesitated with his inquiry. It was a very unexpected question. They hadn't been speaking of work, and Kitka couldn't imagine why he'd be bringing it up now. Kit's heart almost stopped at the mind-baffling realization that Commander Spock was, in unbelievable actuality, attempting to participate in…small talk? Did Vulcan's even small talk?

Thank you, tea, and small-talk?

Kit was beginning to think that she was dreaming.

The mug warm on her fingers, she peered down into the amber liquid. "You don't have to do this, Spock."

"What are you talking about, Counselor?" He continued sipping his tea, nonchalantly.

"Pretending to small-talk, Commander."

"If I do recall, Counselor, humans often participate in small talk over meals and beverages."

She chuckled at his wording, and how literal everything was always taken. "Well, you're Vulcan, and Vulcan's don't small talk, if I recall. And why, all of a sudden, are you trying to act human?"

"I was simply trying not to be rude," he explained in the reawakened matter-of-factly tone. "Counselor, I-"

"Kitka," Kit interrupted quickly before taking another sip of tea.

"I'm sorry?"

"Kitka. You don't have to call me Counselor off the clock."

"Off the clock?" Spock slightly tilted his head.

She couldn't help the amused smile that crept to her lips. "I'm not a part of your military, Mr. Spock. If we're not in the office, you don't have to refer to me by title."

"Oh." The math added up, and for the Vulcan sake of being correct, he amended himself. "Kitka."

She gave him a nod. "Thank you."

Ping.

There was that computer again, always beeping in at the most inconvenient times. Kitka had just begun to feel like she was getting somewhere productive with Spock, with this new, unknown territory of his hidden humanity. Maybe she'd be the first psychologist to get him to laugh? Crack a smile? No…maybe not.

"Spock?" sounded Captain Kirk's voice over the intercom. "I need to see you in my office."

"Aye, Captain," Spock replied into the air.

"It's not urgent or anything, just get here when you can."

"I will be there in a moment, Captain."

Ping.

Kitka was already through with her tea. She didn't want to leave a full mug of rare tea just sitting on the table to get cold, so she'd chugged it as soon as she'd heard Kirk's voice.

"I'm sorry," said Spock, both of them standing simultaneously. "I must go."

She began for the door. He was close at her heels. "I do, too," she sighed. "I have packing to do."

They both stood at the closed door. He gave her a curious expression. "Packing?"

"Well…" she trailed off, trying to mute the disappointment rearing up inside of her. "My contract with the Enterprise is over. I've finished my duties with the Colony, and unless Captain Kirk deems it particularly necessary for me to stay, I'll be leaving for my next station in the morning."

His brows furrowed. "Oh." It was almost a surprised tone, disappointment lingering. That must have been the human half of him talking, yet to be quite all the way put back into its bottle. Her heart swelled at the idea of Spock, who she respected and adored so much, being disappointed at her departure.

And then, just for a second, it sunk in. This would probably be the last time they would see one another. If Spock had been coolly formal as she'd expected, it wouldn't suck so much, but after those very un-Vulcan, human quips, she couldn't help but hate herself a little. Why didn't she give him the tea sooner? Would she have possibly been able to revel in the human side of him a little longer? She might have been able to get him to relax around her, and make some strange, psychological discovery.

Filled with regret and an argumentative inner indecisiveness, she took a step forward to Spock, invading his personal space. "Do me a favor, Commander," she said, taking his face in her hands. "And for just a minute, enlighten me."

There was a bit of a height difference between them, Spock almost six inches taller than her, so it surprised her at just how easy it had been for her to pull his face down to hers. She wasn't quite sure what she was doing, and she honestly expected him to push her away. But after a sharp intake of breath, and realizing what was going on, surprisingly, he didn't.

He tasted like peppermint, which she wasn't expecting. What was more, he smelled like the color green, like kale or watercress. At first, his lips were still against hers, not cooperating, but at her gentleness, he did eventually respond.

Her heart cheered as she felt his lips move against hers, feeling his body relax, and the tension fade away. Her fingers trailed down his face, and onto his neck, and she just about died when she felt his fall onto her side. For a moment, she was lost inside of him, the feel of him and the taste of him, that defensive Vulcan wall conquered.

And finally, she realized she wasn't breathing, and pulled away, gasping. She tilted her head downward, eyes falling onto the sight of his uniform's collar, unable to make eye contact with him.

She could feel his breath on her forehead as he spoke, not quite ripping away like she'd assumed he would do. "That was rather inappropriate, Counselor." He didn't sound offended, and he didn't exactly sound surprised. Was he being a smartass?

She chuckled, and looked up at him. "Well, it's not like you can fire me."

He didn't smile back, but the expression she saw on him wasn't unenjoyable. His eyes were dark, somber, his breathing still ragged, his hands still on her side. But they fell as she took a step back, reaching out to the door's control panel, causing it to open. There wasn't really much for her to say, so as soon as Spock's hands fell from her waist, she turned and made her way out of his quarters.

Then, a smirk crept upon her lips, once again. She stopped, turned, and glanced at him over her shoulder. "Thank you, by the way," she called down the hallway.

"For what?" he asked, standing in the doorway dumbfounded.

"The enlightenment." With that, she stepped into the elevator at the end of the hall, watching him disappear as the doors closed in front of her.