Author's Note: Amusingly enough, when I was writing this, I was all giddy, and then, as I re-read it, I kind of... disliked it (I'm a weird being). I even contemplated on deleting it a few times, but my muse threatened to eat my soul (like she's not gnawing at it already) if I did, so *sigh*
Observation had taught him once that love was illogical, by definition.
Unbeknownst to many, Spock once took it upon himself to study such a strand of human behavior, something as reckless and unpredictable as love.
Love is, indeed, a strong affection, as he once concluded it to be, after allowing himself to access much of Earth's literature, which he judged to be riddled with illogical occurrences and characters who always seem to do the contrary of what logic mandates.
Love is, indeed, a warm attachment which binds people together — such as his mother and father, he later learned upon his father's timely confession.
Love is, indeed, an attraction based on a sexual desire, he knows, as he is reminded of the shame he once felt when he first stood too close to Cadet Uhura, the scent of her invading his mind in a way he had never once anticipated.
However, the one definition of love he could never fathom was that it is unselfish, loyal and benevolent in its concern for others. He could believe love to be loyal in the human mind, but he doubted its benevolence, and its unselfish characteristic; for how could it be so, when love wanted and wanted, never ceasing to take?
After careful study, he learned, in Earth's literature, and even in the hallways of the Starfleet Academy, that love could be both selfish and, sometimes, malicious, for many a Cadet allowed his mind to be filled with ideas of their love, failing to keep their eyes on their own academic goals; too dazed by the feeling they were momentarily submerging themselves in.
Finally, he concluded that a topic as extensive as love could never fully be understood or justified with logic or reason, for those subjected to it simply would not listen.
How right he had been, yet not so, as he, quite without purpose, found himself putting his thoughts to the test the day he realized that he was falling, unequivocally, in love with a Cadet by the name of Nyota Uhura.
Logic told him it was not only wrong, but unethical and completely compromising to what and who he was.
On the day her lips met his for the first time, all the definitions of the word danced around his mind, not with letters, but with feeling and warmth, till it felt like it could very well consume him.
He still isn't sure how he managed to leave their shared lab with his face fully-composed, or how he managed to act as if nothing had happened, for day and night, he found himself studying the word intensively, seeing it all in a startling new light because he was not a simple observer — not anymore — now, he found himself an active participator in the act.
The first week after the act — the kiss — their relationship of teacher and aide remained pretty much intact, except for the Cadet's uncanny ability to sense a change in him. It was, with mild reluctance, that Spock shared with her his study.
"You're trying to learn about love?" She was shocked, to say the least, and there was almost a teasing amusement in her tone, along with a careful blush coloring her cheeks which no one could capture unless they were very well-acquainted with the natural color of her skin, as he certainly was.
"It is not something I am familiar with, or am capable of understanding fully."
She cleared her throat, averting his gaze by keeping her eyes on the literature over his living room table — poetry, for the most part, particularly, Shakespeare.
"Commander, is there any reason why you would... attempt to study love?"
He could tell by the way her heart rate jumped that the subject made her nervous, fearful even, and he did not quite understand the meaning behind this. It was apparent that she was attracted to him, as he to her, yet, upon knowing of his current learning obsession, she seemed quite alerted by it.
"It has been my continuous interest to study on all things related to Earth, the center of it being the constant emotion of love, on which many humans react without thought of consequence. I must confess, I desisted my research once I concluded that such an emotion could never be studied with the end of understanding the complexity behind it, but our recent encounter made me understand things that were, at first, unclear to me."
Uhura swallowed the lump in her throat as she took it all in, "Such as?"
He stood quietly for a moment, hands clasped firmly behind his back, as he tried to observe and allow himself to feel that which was beyond his usual norm. He released a soft breath through his nose before continuing, "It made me hope that, perhaps, not all love is fated to be selfish, or malicious; perhaps being able to grow in kind and affection, with an understanding between the mutual parties involved."
A smile broke over her face quite abruptly, able to knock any human over, but he stood as still as ever.
She looked down, "And, may I ask what exactly gave you the impression that all love is selfish and malicious?"
He glanced at the table before answering, "I've witnessed certain encounters between Cadets, observed them from a distance, having no interest in invading their privacy, but their lack of discretion—"
"Oh, Spock," she interrupted, and the use of his name on her lips — again, after a torturous week — silenced him. "You can't judge love based solely on what you see and read."
He quirked an eyebrow, curious to what her thoughts on the subject matter may be, "Then how should I, Nyota?"
And he could tell that the very use of her name made her feel at ease, as well, finding comfort in the relationship they once had, and the one they might just be able to begin.
"You don't," she took a step towards him, hesitantly, but finally putting a hand over his shoulder. "You don't judge love. You don't... you don't try to define it by what you see, read or hear. You... you define it yourself." And off his look, she sighed, "I know, it doesn't make sense at first, but think about it. How many people fall in love? How many different people fall in love in different ways? Different personalities mean different sort of unions, and that means different types of love."
"I believe... I am beginning to understand that idea," his lip quirked, softly, at the fact that she had been the one to clarify it for him.
She smiled in triumph, "The thing about love, Spock, it's that it's always different, yet always the same."
"And, now, I believe, I am lost."
Nyota laughed, freely and without restraint, which made him feel even more.
"That's the point," she took her hand down, and seized her hand in his, with a bold gaze, "When it comes to love... You're not supposed to get everything, just... feel it."
And it was then, in that moment, in that second kiss, that Spock learned — and is learning still — that love is only illogical when you try to define it, and not always, by definition.