Spock with a Dog
It was on the 198th day into the USS Enterprise crew's shore leave, with only less than two weeks left till their second expedition. While the time within their leave was theirs to spend, the ship's First Officer and Chief Science Officer, in his consistent pursuit for productivity, wasted no time in resuming his teaching post at the Science and Engineering faculty of Star Fleet Academy. It was fortunate that the duration of his shore leave afforded him to instruct one full semester.
It was the dreaded week of "hell"—the week preluding the string of final examinations to follow, and while it afforded the students little time to spend outside the demands of their academic responsibilities, it gave instructors ample time for leisure.
Spock sat behind his desk and was on the third sentence, fourth paragraph, twelfth chapter, and three hundred and seventh page of a promising dissertation recently published in the Inter Galactic Science Journal when his comm started ringing.
The caller ID urged him to promptly set aside his PADD to respond. He immediately noticed that video was de-activated on this particular call, something he thought out of the ordinary in the briefest of seconds before pressing accept.
"Spock."
Even after years of hearing her say his name, she still managed to illicit an internal response: the sudden warmth of affection flushed in his abdomen.
"Yes, Nyota, may I ask the motive of your call?"
He hears her pause that spoke of uncharacteristic nervousness. Also, based from their history of interactions, silence coming from this eloquent linguist meant that something was bothering her. Spock straightened on his chair. "Are you troubled? Do you require my assistance?"
"No, no, I'm fine. But I think I might have done something rather . . . impulsive."
"You are speaking vaguely. Please explain."
"I think it's best if we meet so I can explain properly."
"As I have no meetings or further academic responsibilities for the day, that is acceptable. Which location would be preferable to you?"
"That usual spot by the bay would be good."
"Affirmative. I estimate that I shall be there in 32 minutes."
His PADD remained untouched on the table since Nyota's call and was not even spared a second glance as its owner stood and promptly left the office.
Their usual spot.
Technically another vague statement, but this one Spock understood with utmost clarity. On several occasions Nyota had used that term to refer to a particular isolated bench facing the San Francisco bay and its iconic bridge. It was off-campus, fifteen minutes away by transporter and once he got off, he still had to walk for another sixteen minutes at regular pace to reach the destination.
She had possessively termed it hers to spend with her thoughts and emotions in quiet solitude before their relationship even began and theirs hence after she had shared it with him one pleasant evening during the early stages of his courtship 6 years, 7 months, and 13 days ago. While unspoken, Spock acknowledged the expression of trust in her invitation for him to share her sanctuary.
What he contemplated on during his journey was on more troubling thoughts, however. For Nyota to choose this place out of all other places to meet inferred that she thought her actions altogether so severe and/or serious so as to warrant their meeting there.
Triggered by his current situation, his mind replayed a particular memory when Jim Kirk told him an unsolicited tale of his being so inebriated by alcohol one night that he "impulsively" kissed another female who was not his lover, leading to a rather violent halt to his relationship with said lover and a rather grotesque contusion on the tissues surrounding the captain's right eye.
Spock stamped the memory out but not quite soon enough. He felt traces of worry that is illogical in its existence. To make an assumption without sufficient evidence is invalid and illogical, much less to cite an experience of a colleague who is temperamentally 65% more likely to be impulsive than Nyota Uhura.
He soon spots the familiar figure dressed in an appealing burgundy blouse and flattering denim jeans, sitting tersely on the bench, feet flat on the ground, knees close together, spine rigidly alert . . . and she was not alone.
Their eyes meet as he neared.
Nyota twiddled her thumb, a manner quite foreign to him who could attest to know her well. "Spock, I know this is a bit surprising, but I swear I can explain."
Her companion, however, was not content to keep silent and let out four successively loud barks.
"Chekov's neighbor had to take a week-long trip last minute, and there was no one else who could take her in. Chekov is unfortunately allergic to animal hair and so he asked if I—" she gulped, "—we—would be so kind as to take her in for the time being."
Spock wordlessly broke eye contact and turned to look at the creature on the ground in a similar manner of a scientist scrutinizing strange cell behavior under a microscope. It had its tongue out and seemed to be breathing quite heavily from its mouth, indicative of recent physical exercise.
Then as if to challenge the Vulcan's steely gaze, it audaciously bounced onto the bench and gave his Nyota two licks on the cheek.
"Spock, it's a dog."
"I am aware of the mammalian canine specie humans are particularly fond of keeping as domestic companions," Spock replied, raising a brow as if offended at her unnecessary statement. If Nyota was not so familiar with the Vulcan's manner of speech, one would've thought he was being deliberately cutting. "However, I am . . . skeptical as to how hygienic it is to allow this animal's tongue contact to any part of the facial anatomy."
Failing to sense anger in his tone, a genuine grin forms on Nyota's lips for the first time since their meeting. "It won't kill you, you know." Turning to the pet in question, she rubbed its sleek creamy coat and cooed, "Yes, you're a good girl, aren't you?" To this, she received more licks to her face.
"Aside from pointing out the futility of your attempt to converse with a creature incapable of higher intelligence, might I list the possible bacterial microbes one could potentially receive via close contact with such animals?"
Without batting an eye to his challenge, she responded with calm and only the faintest evidence of amusement in her tone that she was finding harder and harder to contain. "Spock, I grew up with a gorgeous black Labrador named Sunshine for most of my childhood. I'll take myself as experimental evidence that hugging dogs are harmless. Plus, I could also cite a mountain of research findings that highlight the increased release of serotonin, prolactin and oxytocin in the body at the mere site of dogs, more so with prolonged physical contact with one. Not only do dogs induce happiness, they also reduce stress, help in depression recovery, and generously contribute to a person's wellbeing by providing loyal companionship."
Spock's face remains impassive, but she caught the twitch in his lip, however faint. "I admit your exposure to these dogs prove that your account of facts ought to be more reliable than mine. I stand corrected."
"Can we keep her then?" Her eyes were widened in anticipation of his response and her fixed smile coaxed him to agree.
"Judging by its presence here with you, I presume you had already supplied an answer."
"Well, I . . . yes," she confessed, refusing to meet his eye. "I'm sorry I didn't consult with you first. As I said, I gave my answer rather impulsively. I mean, I felt sorry for her, Spock. If no one would take her in, she'd have to go to a dog sitter and I've heard horror stories . . ."
When even after her ramblings he did not respond, Nyota shifted to second tactic. This time the tone she used was that of feigned aloofness while being careful to overly emphasize certain words. "Well, I suppose if you can't stand her, I would simply have to stay in my own quarters for the whole week and care for her myself."
Despite being aware, at the back of his mind, that this was a shallow psychological trick, Spock's resolve chipped.
"Nyota, I am not inclined to reject you. Rather, I am concerned about the responsibility this undertaking would entail. I profess that I am unfamiliar with the rituals of cohabiting with, as humans would call it, pets."
Nyota held his gaze and something inside her melted. He was sincere and as always his sincerity touched her. "Don't worry, babe," she assured, standing on her toes to peck a kiss on his lips, "I'll explain everything you'd need to know."
"First, she has a name."
They were in his quarters, assembled by the couch. The atmosphere was weighed down by the importance of the lieutenant's tutelage.
"Spock, you have to keep in mind that while for you this could just be a creature with four limbs, she is a living, breathing companion for us humans. We look at them as friends or extended family members. So we call our dogs with human names and use human pronouns to refer to them. This girl's name is Zoe."
From his place on the couch, Spock angled his chin as his mind strained to comprehend the foundation of this reasoning and the general frivolities of the human race.
"Yes, well, I've set up Zoe's cot beside the dining table. She has two bowls—one for water and one for food. Chekov's dropping off a sack of dog food, which should be more than enough for the duration. We basically just need to keep her well fed, well exercised, and well loved for a week. That doesn't sound too complicated."
"Nyota, keeping . . . her well fed does not strike me as a challenge. However," his eyes trailed the tail-wagging beast in his kitchen where she was sniffing around and generally spreading small amounts of saliva on his tiles. Her leash was tied to the leg of the table, thereby limiting her to a small circumference, much to his relief. "I am still unconvinced with regards to the degree of sanitation of having such an animal in the house. Furthermore, the mere size of her sharp canines warns me that she could potentially pose a threat to us should we displease her."
Nyota grinned. "Why do I get the feeling that you're a cat person?"
Spock's rebuttal was defensive as it was logical. "If you are referring to the smaller feline specie which, based upon previous observations, instinctively cleans itself on a daily basis, then it is accurate to say that I am inclined to select it as the lesser of two evils."
It took much of the lieutenant's will power to keep her smile from reaching all the way to her ears. Gently, she waved off her boyfriend's logic-draped dramatics. "Spock, I'm kidding. Don't worry, Chekov assured me she's gentle and has completed her vaccination. If you're concerned about her hygiene then we can simply give Zoe a frequent bathing schedule."
"That is preferred."
"Okay, we should also discuss who gets to walk her."
In response to the steep raising of the Vulcan's already slanted brows, she continued with an explanation. "I'm one of the organizers and speakers in that two day introductory seminar to interstellar communications this coming Wednesday—two days from now—and Thursday. I don't mind assuming responsibility over her for most of the week, but I would need your help for those two particular days, Spock."
"As I understand the constraint in your schedule and as it would be beneficial to your health to take as much rest as you can in the evenings for those two days, then I see no reason for me not to offer my help . . . despite other objections."
She caught Spock's gaze wandering toward the golden Labrador when it produced sympathetic whining noises and began pacing around the kitchen, tugging at its leash.
"Nyota, you mentioned that aside from proper sustenance and adequate physical activities, Zoe also needs affection. However, I am unclear as to what kind of affection is needed by such creatures. As there is no language that could serve as a proper conduit for communication, we shall be unable to understand each other."
At this, Nyota walked to the kitchen area and transferred Zoe's leash from the table leg to her firm yet gentle grip. The dog's tail wagged at a furious speed, gave three loud barks of approval, and eagerly led the way back to the sofa where Spock was sitting—even more rigidly now, she noted.
"Physical affection is a universal language." She demonstrated by rubbing Zoe's ears and smoothing the fur on its back in back and forth motions. "See? Rubbing her like this calms her down. Go on, try it."
"I have heard that such creatures serve as an ideal breeding ground for parasites—"
"Oh for the love of the Enterprise, just give her a rub!"
She watched with a grin as one of Star Fleet's most esteemed commanders slowly extended his fingers—the most hesitation she'd seen on him over anything, quite frankly—to pat Zoe's soft tawny fur. The dog perked at the touch and turned its hanging tongue at Spock, its black eyes pleased and curious over this new friend.
"See, she likes you. Don't you, Zoe girl?"
It arrested him to watch Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Chief Communications Officer of the Enterprise and one of the Star Fleet Academy's most intelligent alumni, kneel down and begin an animated monologue with Zoe, even going so far as to make cooing noises generally utilized by mothers toward infants. What was even more curious was how the dog sat and looked at her back, seemingly listening and engaged by the words.
And while Spock could still profess to have no fondness for the animal, the thought had finally occurred to him.
Fascinating.
It is illogical—she is illogical.
Despite his numerous efforts to steer Zoe to walk the most optimal route, the animal simply would not cooperate. In all his life, never had he encountered a creature so easily distracted—more so than Jim with women.
She would take fancy to pebbles on the ground one second and turn to chase a tennis ball the next, hauling him along in the process. The park fountain was a source of intrigue for her, resulting in several futile minutes of Zoe engaging her olfactory senses to clear the mystery. After that it was the flowerbeds. Spock cannot comprehend in the slightest what allure she found in running around the dirt as it would only result in a mandatory bath once they reach home.
He surrendered himself to watching Zoe as she sniffed around the pavement, attempting not to think about how they were currently off track by 360 meters and off schedule by 27 minutes and counting.
Nyota made it look far too easy.
In the past few days he would silently observe her interaction with Zoe, how it came so naturally to her, how every movement was rooted in instinct. He, on the other hand, had been straining his Vulcan control, in an effort to relate to this creature—a task he was suspecting to be close to impossible.
Perhaps, such creatures and him are quite simply incompatible.
"Well, it appears hell must have frozen over—it is you."
Spock straightened, face passive, and responded, "A rather unnecessary statement, Doctor McCoy, as there can be no plausible reason for me to be other than myself."
The doctor, dressed in athletic attire and visibly sweating and breathing heavily, scowled. "This an addition to your brood or something?" Spock watched with keen interest as the man squatted down and held out a hand, for which Zoe abandoned the pavement in favor of.
"Aren't you a beauty, hmm?" Leonard mumbled at Zoe as he scratched the spot behind its ears. Zoe responded happily by placing both front paws on the doctor's lap.
Spock recalled Nyota explaining how dogs are usually able to prompt happy emotions from humans. He concluded it true seeing the small smile break through the doctor's usually grumpy demeanor.
"I am unsure of the meaning behind your words, doctor."
Leonard got back to his feet. "I still remember when my ex brought home a puppy. I wasn't ready to have children; so she figured she'd get a dog to dote on instead and to ease the idea to me. Of course, that didn't work out since I like dogs so much better than having a little whiny child, and I definitely like it better than the version of a wife she became a few months before the divorce."
"Do you mean to say that for humans, there are parallelisms between getting a dog and spawning children?"
"My god, man, where have you been? It's practically part of the life cycle! Boy meets girl, boy gets into a relationship with the girl, and when it's all swell and boring, they get a dog and become a kind of family. If they both like it—heck, then it's time to pop out some babies," the doctor drawled.
Spock's brows furrowed subtly "From your statement, I deduct that this activity serves to stimulate an otherwise stable relationship as well as to become a basis for assessing compatibility between partners before taking the life-long commitment of producing a new life form."
McCoy angled a brow at Spock's monotonous deduction. "It differs on a case to case basis, Spock, but to sum it up, for a girl who loves dogs, there is nothing more of a turn off than a boyfriend who hates it or loves it more than her."
"A fascinating insight, Doctor."
"Right. Well, I'd better get going." He took a last look at Zoe then at Spock before jogging off. "Also, I believe your dog just did her business. Good luck picking up that pile of litter."
Spock followed his gaze and true enough the dog's excrements were impossible to miss against the gray of the pavement. Nyota had warned him about it and clearly he was in error to take light note of it and come unprepared.
An error, Spock had zero enthusiasm to correct.
The auditorium was buzzing with chatter. The 2-day seminar had just been concluded and Nyota and the rest of the organizers were now taking in questions and engaging in polite banter with selected members of the audience.
"Uhura!"
She smiled and waved off a group of attendees before turning to the captain.
"Jim! If I had known you'd be here I would've given you some time on the platform."
"Nah, I just got here. Congratulations on the seminar, by the way, but I want to talk about something far more important." Seeing as Jim's face was trying not to burst out in laughter, Nyota raised both brows. "Spock," he gasped, his grin getting wider by the second. "With a dog—oh my god have you any idea how—"
While he broke down laughing, she pursed her lips to a smile and crossed her arms, waiting for him to continue. The captain wiped a tear from his eye. "God, my year has been made!"
His childish expression of pure joy humored the lieutenant. "How did you find out?"
"Uhura, when you see a Vulcan-even a half Vulcan-engaging in a pretty serious tug of war with a dog out in the park for everyone to see, trust me, everyone's gonna know. Bones ran into him the other day and told me."
"Was that yesterday? Come to think of it, he was in a bit of a weird mood when I got home last night," she admitted as she gathered several PADDs left on the desk. "But then I thought it was because he had to ask another dog owner for a bag to pick up Zoe's poo."
"God, what I would give to be able to witness that moment," he added in a wistful tone.
The mental image of her logical and calculated boyfriend engaging in the act of picking up dog poo tickled her too as did the image of Spock engaging in an illogical tug-of-war.
"He's generally not very happy with our guest. Actually, he was borderline grumpy when he complained about Zoe hindering him from his meditation by messing up his asenoi and constantly moving around."
"I'm wondering. Does that Vulcan nerve pinch thingy work on animals?"
Nyota snorted. "I don't know, though I won't be surprised to know he has considered that. He was probably sorely tempted to try it out when he came home three days ago only to find our apartment in a mess. Not kidding. Our chairs and pillows were trampled all over on the floor, her little sack of food and dog hair scattered all over the place—I honestly thought he'd march her straight to the pound."
Jim narrowed his blue eyes and crossed his arms. "But, wait, he . . .didn't?"
"Nope. I don't think he can do it, honestly. He'll deny it with all his I-am-logical façade but he's adorable with her, Jim. Like insanely out-of-this-world adorable. When I asked him to try talking to her, it was hilarious!"
Rather than a teasing tone, the captain heard and felt warm affection trickling out of his friend as she gushed on about the Vulcan's dog sitting habits. "He actually asked her and I quote: 'Zoe, do you find your sleeping arrangements acceptable?' and he would lecture her like a child as in 'It would please me if you desist placing your mud-stained paws on the rug.' It exhausts me sometimes trying not to laugh out loud and more than once I had to leave the room because my cheeks were hurting from smiling so much . . ."
Jim smiled and contented himself to watch as her eyes and face slacked with tenderness. "God, I love him. Seeing him with Zoe and the way he makes such an effort against his own helplessness before such an emotional animal . . . it's just . . ."
"That's really sweet Uhura and I'm happy for you guys," he responded softly, then hastily adding: "But I really, really just want to see Spock with a dog for myself. Do you mind letting him walk the dog tomorrow so I can ambush him while he's at it or something? I'll snap holovids and keep it as personal file to view when it gets boring in deep space."
He was met with a skeptical look from the lieutenant, forcing him—one of the most experienced negotiator in whole fleet—to a compromise. "Fine. I'll share the holovids with you when it gets boring in deep space."
On this term, Nyota grinned.
Honest to god, she did not know what to make of the scene that greeted her upon her return. She went through the motions of closing the door behind her, taking off her shoes, and placing the keys on the narrow counter by the door while staring at the dog kennel.
The dog kennel was definitely not there when she left that morning.
Furthermore, she believed someone went a little overboard with the kennel accessories judging by the fact that the kennel had windows with curtains on it. Inside the little house was Zoe, lying leisurely atop plush new bedding.
"Nyota, welcome home."
She turned to Spock who was walking towards her. "Did you buy this?"
"Affirmative. I also took the liberty of purchasing some treats for Zoe. The clerk from the pet shop recommended the bacon flavored chemically processed pork bone and an appropriate chew toy to help Zoe relieve excess energy and anxiety."
She saw the generous supply of doggy biscuits on the kitchen counter. But there was something that just wasn't clicking in her head.
"Are you not pleased, Nyota?"
The dip in his brows reflected concern and, if her eyes wasn't playing tricks with her, a sort of agitation.
"No—I mean, it's not that I'm not pleased, but honestly, I'm not sure what to make of this, Spock. Zoe will leave us a few days so all of these really come off as overly generous."
"I did take that into consideration, however seeing as to how you seem quite fond of dogs, I thought perhaps you would be in want of one . . . in the future."
He was baffling her. "But I—Spock, you don't even like dogs or . . . do you?"
She noticed the small heave of his chest and heard the soft sigh. "I cannot lie to you. I am not quite as fond of these creatures as you or Doctor McCoy and I cite biological incompatibility as my defense. However, I am more than willing to have one if it will bring you joy. Nyota, your happiness is of paramount importance to me and—"
He stopped—or rather she stopped him by swiftly striding through the space between them to claim his lips with her own. It was, Spock thought, only logical to reciprocate with equal possessiveness. He placed his hand on the curve of her hip while her hands sought to caress the sides of his face.
Upon parting, she raised her chin to meet his eyes. "Have I told you how much I love you when you smooth talk me like this?"
She felt his body relax and was pleased to see that familiar twitch on the corner of his lips. "I am not aware of the occurrence of any so called smooth talking, but nonetheless, your regard is well reciprocated, Nyota."
Her fingers sought his and, with hands intertwined and a sultry smile, she led the way to the bedroom. "Well, right now, I think I'm very interested to see just how well my regard is reciprocated."
Spock deemed it efficient to waste no time in satisfying her curiosity.
Hours later and well into the night, they lay in a tangled heap of limbs, both bathing in their own version of oxytocin overload when Spock spoke.
"It slipped my mind, but I had intended to inquire about your event. I assume it was productive and satisfactory?
"It was good," she responded, leaning her cheek to the side of his warm body. "The audience hardly had exposure to the topic and so there wasn't much intellectual exchange going on, but it was definitely a good first step to stoking interest in the subject. How about you? Are exams over?"
"My students are scheduled to take their final exam the day after tomorrow," he replied.
They lounged in bed in each other's arms for a few seconds before she remembered Jim telling her about Bones running into Spock. She decided to ask about it.
"Indeed, I met briefly with the doctor. He supplied me with fascinating insights to human behavior that I otherwise would not have been aware of."
Her brows shot upward, motioning him to expound.
"Because of Doctor McCoy, it came to my attention that getting a dog is considered by humans to be a next step in a relationship as well as an experiment—however unconsciously it is performed—to assess compatibility with one's partner before mating to bring forth children could be seriously considered. As such, I . . ." she caught the slight struggle it took for him to bare his thoughts and emotions, "I did not desire for you to find me lacking . . . in that regard."
Nyota was convinced that if Spock continued talking like this, she'd certainly turn into putty in his arms in the next five minutes max. It suddenly made sense to her why he was acting a bit strange last night.
She sat on her elbows, angled toward him. "Is that the reason behind your purchase of that outrageous dog kennel and the sudden binge of generosity?"
"Affirmative."
"I understand where Leonard is coming from. I know of couples who had decided to take in a dog as a kind of trial to parenthood. Geez, I even heard about couples arguing about who takes custody of a dog after a split. But Spock, as much as I adore dogs, I never expected you to fully share the sentiment."
She read the subtle hint of perplexity in his face and quickly sought out his hand. "You're half Vulcan. I can only imagine how confusing it is for you to handle an animal so animated and emotional and . . . illogical. And I understand and respect that. Spock, what matters more to me is that you made an effort. It touches me deeply to see you set aside your discomfort and engage with Zoe in the best way you can. For me, that's enough. Who you are is enough, and frankly, I love you more than I can love any animal no matter how cute they are."
His indirect confession, about wanting to have children with her, played at the back of her mind. It pushed her to the brink of burst with love for this impossibly romantic Vulcan.
Spock watched in mute admiration as she adjusted her legs and shifted position such that she was straddling his waist. It was exquisite having her bare, beautiful flesh touch him. Her inner thigh rested below his rib, two inches below his heart. Subsequently, his pulse quickened and roused him.
"If I may boldly say so, Spock," she murmured, leaning close to his face. "While I'm not yet quite ready to have children with you yet, the idea of making children sounds infinitely more appealing right now."
He stared at her lips in blatant fixation. "Indeed, I second that motion."
"Also, I'm hoping that you walk Zoe tomorrow."
Spock raised a brow. "Nyota, you play an unfair advantage given that at our current position, the chances of me refusing you anything is at 10% and decreasing at a rate of 2% per minute."
The sound of her laughter echoed in the room before the lights faded into darkness.
Exactly a week after receiving Nyota's curious call in his office, Spock accompanied her and a leashed Zoe to Chekov's apartment building. The pad held a small gathering with Doctor McCoy, Scotty, and Sulu already sitting on the couch. From his vantage point on the doorway he also noted the particular presence of a Captain James T. Kirk who he suspected had been—as humans would term it—actively stalking him for the past 3 days.
"Oh wow, everyone's actually early," Nyota shared a look with Spock who appeared slightly puzzled. She, on the other hand, knew that the crew's prompt attendance had more or less something to do with wanting to see Spock with a dog and kept a small, knowing smile to herself.
"Are you sure we can bring her in?" she courteously inquired, noting how the ensign was keeping visible distance from the animal.
"Eet eez fine, lieutenant. Ze doctor hez geeven me anti-heestameen shots to contain my allergic reactions. Please, do come een. My neighbor vill bee back in ze next half hour."
"Captain, I am unaware of your intentions to hold a meeting. For what purpose are we gathered here today?"
"Yeah, well, I told Uhura." Kirk explained, in his own laid back, devil-may-care way, that with the Enterprise scheduled to be released fully repaired and upgraded next week, he intended to discuss their upcoming voyage back into deep space and the necessary preparations it would entail.
While the captain's explanation was sound, what Spock could not account for was the holo vid gadget in his hand, unabashedly pointed at him and Zoe.
"I'm sure it would be far more conducive if we were to gather in a more formal setting and avoid unnecessary distractions." For Spock, the opened box of pizza on the coffee table was to be labeled as such.
"Chill out! We'll be in launching in a week. It should be mandatory to avail ourselves of all the terran comforts we can till then." Jim plopped himself back to the sofa beside Sulu, picked up a fresh slice of pizza, and took a satisfying bite. "Come on, sit down. Uhura, knock yourself out."
Spock followed Nyota and settle down beside her. Zoe, now momentarily unleashed, homed in on the doctor. Everyone marveled to see Leonard McCoy's permanent scowl soften to a gruff smile as he rubbed the Labrador's coat.
"So Spock, how do you feel about leaving that dog behind?"
"I am unsure as to how that fits with the agenda, Captain," Spock countered.
"I remember when I had to leave Fiffy behind to join Star Fleet—what? It's a perfectly good girl dog name, guys," he shot back, scoffing at the awkward silence that descended on the group partnered with the accusatory raised brows.
"Aye, it's a beautiful name, but not something we'd expect from the captain of the Enterprise, if ye don't mind me sayin' so," Scotty muttered in between coughs. He swallowed a gulp of his beer when the captain's narrowed eyes landed on him.
"Anyway, all I'm saying is that I missed that old dog the first few weeks into the academy—so much that my mom had to send me photos occasionally." Jim turned his gaze towards Spock, his expression cueing the Vulcan to continue the conversation.
"My missing Zoe is illogical, Jim, as she is not ours to begin with but rather was given to our custody for a brief duration. Furthermore, it is only logical that I should be relieved as Zoe will be reunited with her owner and to the proper care she is accustomed to."
"Oh, Spock, we weren't that shabby," Nyota countered with a teasing glint in her eye.
"The majority of that recognition is due to your efforts, Nyota."
"Our efforts," she corrected. "You weren't too bad, yourself. I swear Zoe was tottering to you more than me in the past two days."
As if on cue, the animal left McCoy's side and sniffed at her surroundings before opting to squeeze at the small space between Spock's leg and the low coffee table. She gave a loud bark and began pampering the Vulcan's hand with multiple licks.
"Look at that, she likes you, Spock!" Jim cried, jumping on his feet with excitement.
He deemed it unnecessary to comment and further stoke the captain's misplaced fascination. Rather, while ignoring the fact that the lens of Jim's holo vid gadget was once again impudently aimed at him along with the rest of the crew's eyes, Spock retrieved his hand from Zoe's slathering affection and gingerly rested it on top of the animal's head. He gave three calculated strokes.
"So who's the real owner, Chekov? Your neighbor, right?" The question came from Sulu in between chews of pizza.
"Yes. She iz a astrophysicist and had to tek a sudden trip to Canada. I am truly and personally indebted to both ze Commander and ze Lietenant for being very kind to accept Zoe last mineet."
"Don't mention it, Chekov. Spock and I—"
The chiming sound at the door halted her in mid-sentence.
"Zat vud be my neighbor!" Chekov announced, jumping off the couch with unbridled excitement.
"You'd think 5 years in deep space would've tempered his eagerness in life," McCoy muttered under his breath. In 6 seconds, the doctor choked on his words when the blonde Chekov ushered inside caused his beer to go down the wrong pipe.
"Everybody, zis is Miss Natalie Shevchenko."
No further explanation needed to be said to make sense of Chekov's eagerness to answer the door. The blonde astrophysicist stood before them in well-fitted trousers that hugged her hips and the curve of her thighs beautifully. The neckline of her white knitted blouse was scooped low to show the teasing curve of her breasts.
Zoe promptly abandoned Spock and ran towards her owner, her tail waving furiously.
"Hi baby! Mommy missed you so much!" the blonde crouched to give Zoe a hug and laughingly accepted the torrent of dog-kisses while she warmly rubbed the dog's coat.
Jim leaped to his feet in the same burst of energy as Zoe, and Nyota immediately sensed, based on the abrupt shift in tone and speech pattern, that the captain was now in full blast charm-mode. "Miss Shevchenko, pleasure to meet you. I'm Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the USS Enterprise. Please, call me Jim."
"A pleasure to meet you, Jim," the blonde responded with a grin as she straightened to take the captain's extended hand. "It's impossible not to hear great things about the Enterprise. Is everyone here also stationed on the ship?"
"Yes, they are." He turned to his crew with a posture that radiated authority and respect. "This is Montgomery Scott."
"Scotty, fer short. I'm the Commanding Engineering Officer," the Scotsman supplied with his Sunday's best smile.
"Doctor Lenard McCoy, ma'am, Chief Medic. Here, uh, you can have my seat and help yourself to a beer and some grub," the doctor offered, his southern drawl more distinct. Nyota smiled at the doctor's flushed ears.
Hikaru Sulu introduced himself, notably unaffected by Natalie's stunning looks. It was her turn.
"Hi, I'm Nyota Uhura. I work in Communications."
Upon hearing her name, Natalie's face visibly brightened. "Oh, you're the Nyota Pavel mentioned! Thank you so much for taking Zoe in! I know it was really last minute, so I just can't thank you enough." The blonde snuck a tender look at Zoe before returning her ocean-blue gaze back at the lieutenant. "I hope she hasn't caused much trouble?"
"None at all," Nyota assured politely. As she said so, her peripheral vision saw Spock turn sharply at her, seemingly to disagree with her pacifist statement which she prefers to term as a white lie.
She wasn't the only one who noticed the abrupt movement. Natalie turned her eyes toward the Vulcan, and Nyota noted the interest—short of admiration—that leaped into those eyes as well as the soft, unconscious parting of her rose tinted lips.
"Oh, hello. Are you also an officer?"
Nyota's aural sensitivity, now further honed after 5 years of real-life experience in detecting subspace transmissions, picked up on the distinct honeyed accent of flirtation.
"Affirmative. I serve as the ship's Chief Science Officer. As my full name would be unpronounceable to you, you may simply address me as Spock."
"You're Vulcan aren't you."
"Half Vulcan, Miss Shevchenko."
"Fascinating." Her usage of the Science Officer's most frequent expression caused Spock's left eyebrow to raise a few centimeters higher. "Oh, I don't mean to be rude, it's just that I've read so much about New Vulcan lately and I've never really met one up close."
Nyota suddenly felt irate at the physicist's rather sensual breathlessness and extended a hand on Spock's thigh. The motion was not left unnoticed by both parties. Spock tilted his head at her and she felt his roused curiosity tugging at her mind from their bond.
"I think you should know that Spock actually also helped a lot with Zoe. He's a really thoughtful boyfriend and took responsibility when I wasn't available, didn't you, babe?"
"Your . . . flattery is overrated, Nyota." To prove that he wasn't quite oblivious to her primal motive, despite not fully comprehending it, Spock calmly enclosed her hand in his.
"Well! I . . . think I've intruded enough into your meeting and ought to get going," Natalie informed the group with a smile. Below on the floor, Zoe rubbed against her legs in affection and made little whiny noises.
She graciously fought off the other men's adamant suggestions that she (was really more than welcome to) stay. "It's been such a pleasure meeting the famous officers of the Enterprise. I wish you all a safe voyage and hope we could meet again in the near future. Pavel, I owe you a huge favor too, but I'll see you around, okay?" Natalie dropped a polite peck on the ensign's cheeks and headed for the door. Only she missed the melted expression that erupted on Chekov's face.
"Oh, wait a sec!" Nyota got up from her seat and jogged to the door. Beside the shoe rack, she picked up a small canvas tote bag full to the brim with Spock's generous purchases. "Spock and I never really had a dog stay with us before so we might have gotten a bit carried away with Zoe." Beside her, Spock's impeccably upright form appeared, his hands clasped behind him.
"Miss Shevchenko, I have also purchased a kennel for Zoe. As it is too large and therefore inconvenient to personally carry it here, I shall instead arrange for it to be delivered to your apartment tomorrow."
Natalie laughed in good humor and took the bag the lieutenant held up. "Thank you so much. And I don't mean to be too forward but I think you two would make excellent parents."
Seeing as to how the pair suddenly looked bashful and altogether at a loss for words, the blonde readily supplied a new topic. "Also, I hope both of you would be free for dinner this week? Please, as a very small token of my and Zoe's gratitude."
Sharing a look with Nyota, Spock tipped his head in agreement. "We are amenable to that idea. Additionally, I think it prudent to inform you that Zoe finds great pleasure in wreaking havoc all over the flower beds at Golden Gate Park. Observation also indicates that she is more at ease to sleep beside her chew toy."
"Your insights are well noted, Spock," Natalie responded.
"Bye Zoe girl." Nyota crooned, giving the creature a hug. She lovingly scratched the fur behind its ear before adding, "We'll miss you."
When the dog at last turned its affection towards Spock, Nyota watched as her rigidly composed boyfriend crouched down on one knee and stroked Zoe's head down to her neck. "Good bye, Zoe." And deemed unprecedented in the history of Vulcan, Spock angled his fingers to the customary salute. "It is my wish that you live long and prosper."
Zoe gave a jubilant bark, an undecipherable answer that nevertheless suggested intelligence higher than Spock's initial judgment. The Labrador raised its front paws onto Spock's lap and planted two wet licks on the Vulcan's pale cheek.
"Come now, Zoe." Natalie opened the door and whistled at her faithful pet. "Good girl, let's go home." And with a last cheery wave, the door closed behind them.
"Mr. Spock, you don't seem to be worrying whether or not you've contracted a deadly disease by allowing Zoe to lick your face," Nyota teased as they slowly turned away from the door.
"I have done adequate research on the matter and have concluded that such has a highly insignificant probability of occurring."
"I suppose you're happy to be finally be rid of our household troublemaker."
"On the contrary, I believe I will, to a very small extent, miss her." There was a brief flicker of emotion in Spock's expression that halted Nyota and warmed her chest.
"Would you want to get a dog of our own?"
"Absolutely not," he answered without need for further consideration, to which Nyota chuckled. Spock raised both brows upon realizing that she was—to quote the term—pulling his leg. His lips curled minutely at the corners, betraying his amusement.
"Might I remind you, Lieutenant Uhura, that as it is strictly against Star Fleet regulation 4.8 under Section 36 to harbor domestic animals within our quarters aboard the ship. Purchasing a dog, regardless of how cute it is, would only be illogical."
When the pair finally rejoined the rest of the crew, it was apparent to all that the lieutenant was positively beaming with humor. Likewise, it was also impossible to miss the smear of pale pink on the right corner of the Commander's lips.
Author's Note: So I have to admit that I haven't written anything in more than a year, and many many years since I last penned fanfiction. I'm also new to contributing to the absolutely irresistible Spock Uhura fandom (hi!), even though I have been feeding on other people's fanfiction on this pairing since the first 2009 reboot movie.
So given my long hiatus from writing, I'm definitely not at optimum writing momentum as of the moment. If you want to read more Spuhura fics from me (I do have a few raw ideas in the pipeline), please be vocal as it could get my rusty writing cogwheels turning.
Drop me review and be honest and constructively critical if you must. I promise I can take it. - Lenah.C