{A/N}: I've always wanted to do a Star Trek fanfic, and I love the reboots! A friend gave me the idea for this fic awhile ago and finally convinced me to write it out. The ship is a definite K/S, but as for Nyota and/or Bones, I'm not really sure yet. Also, this is an AU where Nyota and Spock didn't get together, but oh, how I love that pairing.

Hope you all enjoy it!

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Nyota was an aficionada of lingoes. An expert of almost every language spanning the Federation and its members. Xenolinguistics, phonology, and etymology were the lieutenant's forte during her time at the academy, and after the Enterprise's maiden voyage and her repairs were made, her skills only sharpened with her experience gained upon the starship.

As Kirk once put it, she had a talented tongue. Along with keen ears that could pick up on even the most garbled of Klingon communications. But language wasn't just words and sounds; it was physical too. Being proficient in her profession, Nyota was adept in understanding words found only in gestures and expressions. Be it speaking or a minute twitch of an eye, Nyota caught the significance.

So when she saw the captain and first officer enter the bridge, Spock's posture looking painfully perfect, Kirk's eyes not lurid as usual, she nearly face planted on the comm. station. No, she couldn't do that, she was on duty. Professionalism, Uhura. Besides, her-completely senseless- commanding officers wouldn't take to her damaging equipment. Instead, she just gave Spock a meaningful look before giving a passing Kirk a curt, "Captain."

She turned back to her station and began a shift filled with interstellar static, petty transmissions, and a familiarizing tension throbbing at the back of her head.

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She caught Spock while heading to the mess hall. He was quick to nod and carry on his long stride down the corridor, but Nyota was quicker. She stepped into his path, hands held up to halt the hurried commander, who arched a brow.

"How are things going?" she prodded gently. It sounded like a polite, general question, but Spock was smart. He knew what she actually meant.

And he said nothing. Bad then, she figured. Their tentative friendship, built during the years they worked together at the academy, let Nyota be bold enough to press a hand to his arm, lightly brushing her fingertips along his sleeve. Spock allowed the contact and she smiled.

He glanced around the empty white halls. They were alone, yet he still murmured, "Lieutenant Uhura…Nyota. This is not an optimum location to-"

"Spock," She cut in. "It's just a question. You don't have to answer it you don't want to."

The fact that he took a moment to consider her statement made her smile widen. It meant that he was not against sharing with her; a pretty intimate thing for him. And, also, that he considered her a friend, too. Now if only he and Jim…

"We are progressing…precariously," He conceded before taking a step back. "If you would excuse me, Lieutenant."

The half-Vulcan was already turning the corner before she could say anymore. When she heard the turbo lift doors swish shut, she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Ugh…those two…"

Routing back to her original destination, she hoped a certain doctor had more luck getting some details.

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"Ya know," McCoy huffed. "I gettin' real tired of those two numbskulls."

Across from him, Nyota concurred, humming half-heartedly. The CMO had become a surprising reprise; a lunch buddy with whom she could nitpick freely about the doleful thing that stood as a relationship between their captain and first officer. Rumors traveled fast on a starship out in the middle of space,(No, Kirk and Spock were not having sex. Yet. Unfortunately.) but Nyota was sure she and the good doctor saw what was really going on. Being the closest to the pair and all.

The look of mutual understanding they shared after an away mission had Kirk in medbay over something superficial, and Spock being his version of a worrywart, just said it all. It's one hell of a way to solidify a friendship, over shared frustrations at your commanding officers/best friends pinning for one another. And not even acknowledging the fact there was something there between them.

Nyota wished they formed this little club earlier on. The doctor's discontent disposition grew on you after awhile, and Nyota found his constant complaining endearing; it showed he genuinely cared in her opinion, albeit…strongly.

McCoy said he was just a natural born grouch.

Breaking out of her little reverie, Nyota got back to the subject at hand. "Did you get the chance to talk with Jim yet?"

"Yeah. Sort of…," When Nyota looked up, skeptical, McCoy sighed.

"Alright. No. I didn't. But only because the kid ran off before I had the chance. It's what he does, when things get personal." He shrugged, not quite hiding the concern tense between his brows. "Get anything out of Mr. Green, Stiff, and Pointy?"

"Does 'progressing precariously' sound like a good thing?" She muttered, forking at her untouched salad.

McCoy deadpanned. "No. Since when does attempting to befriend someone you'll need to trust require caution?"

"This is Jim we're taking about. And Spock. Making friends is one of the few things he doesn't excel at."

"…Point taken. Still, Jim's nagging is killing me. Even hypos won't shut him up."

Nyota shook her head and rolled her eyes. "It's not like I enjoy hearing seventeen reasons why the captain's methods of handling paper work is 'illogical and unsystematic.'"

McCoy flashed her look of pure pity. "This abhor/adore thing needs to stop. Or else I'm thinkin' we should just lock them in a storage closet. Let 'em work it out on their own."

Laughter trilled from Nyota, and passing crewmembers did double takes. The lovely Uhura, laughing and eating lunch, with cantankerous doctor McCoy? More grain for the ship's rumor mill. But a hard glare had lingering passers-by scattering before they could hear anything. It had Nyota giggling into her mug of tea.

"'Seven minutes in heaven' style?" she said after a moment, a bit softer than before. "No good. You know they could just override the lock."

The doctor pointed a fry at her, his voice lowering with a seriousness that had her laughing again. "I know a guy in Engineering that owes me a favor. He could give us a solid fifteen minutes. Maybe even twenty, if we're lucky."

"I'm not even going to dwell on that," Nyota speared a piece of lettuce, shaking her head. If McCoy was thinking this way, then his patience was even thinner than hers. "Besides, I bet they'd just sit there, arguing the whole time. For two geniuses, they're not that smart. You'd think they would've caught on by now."

Now, Nyota knew it wasn't as easy as she was making it out to be. And considering who they were talking about, things were never simple. However, it had been nine months since this -whatever- began between Kirk and Spock, and it came to a standstill. They still worked amazingly together, a real force to be reckoned with when it came to their duties for Starfleet. But have mission-less weeks spanned before them, to get to know each other, James and Spock, it might as well been as though they were meeting for the first time all over again. Except now there was this tension surrounding them, so thick, it was suffocating. Stepping onto the bridge was like walking through molasses.

There needed to be a resolution, or it would eventually seep over into their working relationship. Then that would just be perfect, really. Nyota had an inkling that the two love birds wouldn't come up with one themselves. When she voiced the thought, McCoy agreed. But what could be done about it? All she could do was cross her fingers and hope they didn't kill each other before they even got together.

"They're idiots," McCoy grumbled, continuing on with his meal.

"Hear, hear."

"Give 'em a tube a paint, some shot glasses and pieces of a GameBoy, and they'll come up with something spectacular together. Give 'em a chance to really know each other, hell, well they'll act like its downright impossible."

"…Paint, shot glasses, and a GameBoy?" Nyota repeated incredulously. "What?"

McCoy just waved off her off, not quite hiding his smirk as he continued. "How they're going about it, it'll make more sense to baby step them through a damn relationship. Ha! Try imagining that."

No sooner had the words and the following short guffawing left the CMO's mouth, an idea suddenly dawned on the lieutenant. Dropping her fork, she stared at the doctor, eyes bright, as plot points lined up into something of a wonderful plan. Why, she had been in this situation before! Well, not exactly, but it was close enough. So why not try to handle it like she did then, help her friend out while assisting another in doing the same? Not to mention, it might be kind of fun…

"Uhura…" McCoy drawled, slowly leaning away from the still staring lieutenant. He was all for a beautiful woman giving him the eye, but the look Nyota had gave him that same sinking feeling he got at Jim's slow growing smirks. No good would come from it, at least, for him.

A wicked smile crept across her face. Oh no, he wasn't going to like this at all.

Nyota pointed at McCoy, and he eyed her finger warily.

"That's it, doctor."

"What is?"

"It's just what we need to do."

"What?"

"Really, it's perfect."

He bit back a groan of frustration. "Just- What, exactly, do we need to do? And why we?"

Nyota's communicator chirped just then. She clicked her tongue as she read over the message she received, but the smile was still in place. "Gotta go, doctor McCoy. I'm needed in the communications lab."

Standing, she collected her tray and PADD, with such fluidity in her movements it showed she was pleased with herself. McCoy watched with befuddlement, before trying to sputter out questions and demanding answers. Coming around behind him, she patted his shoulder.

Coolly she muttered, "I'll drop by your office later to explain, promise." She turned but halted, and swiveled back, "You know what, maybe I'll just send you an email. It'll be kind of strange if the communications officer was seen sneaking off to the CMO's office."

The doctor scrunched up his face. "Wait, why the hell would there be sneaking?"

Nyota smiled. "Byzantine, doctor." She winked, and with a swish of her ponytail she was gone.

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At 1600 hours the next day, McCoy finally received his promised email.

After opening it, he reread it. Twice, then trice. Rubbing absently at his stubble covered cheek, he muttered a curse under his breath. For half of the day, curiosity had been nagging at his mind, the urge to check his email every ten damn minutes annoying the hell out of him. And after all of that, this was her plan?

He glared hard at the last line, [Technically, it was your idea.]. It was true. But he had been joking. Joking!

Sighing, he put his PADD to the side, shutting the screen off. Picking up his abandoned glass of bourbon, he downed the remainder of it. As it burned its way down his throat, he was becoming more resolute with his decision to take no part in Nyota's plan. Of just replying to her lengthy email with a bold, centered, and capitalized: HELL NO. And maybe several frowny faces.

But he then he was struck by image of her reaction, her face coming to mind. Dark eyes narrowing, disappointment hard within them and lips set downward if he denied it wasn't worth a shot. He could hear her pulling a Spock with logic, and say chances were better if they did do this little scheme of hers.

"Well," he resigned, pouring another drink. "at least it's something'…"

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Try saying "Kirk a curt captain" five times fast, haha!