The door to his apartment slides open and she enters. The lights are off. The table is not set. There are no books laid out on the couch. She stops, confused, looking about. Is he not here? "Spock?"
"Here", he says, from the shadows near the window.
She moves slowly to him, stopping when she is so close he can feel the heat of her body. She looks into his eyes, there in the shadows. "Is something wrong?"
With his eyes never leaving hers, his hands come up and gently grasp her arms, pulling her the last small increment towards him until their bodies touch. She stands there, soft against him, her breath warm against his face, not moving. So slowly it is hard to see the movement, her arms come up and encircle his body.
"No", he breathes, "No, everything's right".