Winter fell early that year. By mid-November, webs of frost clung to the windows every morning and the wind began to bluster in the evenings. San Francisco whispered the possibility of light snow.
Uhura peered into Spock's office one morning to see him sitting on the couch, back perfectly straight, hands resting lightly on his lap. His eyes were closed and his expression soft. She stopped, considered whether she should disturb him.
Tiptoeing through his office, she gathered his jacket from the back of his chair. She placed it gently over his chest, tucking it around his neck carefully. She could transmit her question later.
The sudden warmth that enclosed his body interrupted Spock's meditation. He felt the minute prodding of fingertips on his neck and shoulders, smelled a trace of sandalwood lingering in the air in front of him. He could feel the heat from her body graze his cheek, and wondered distantly about how close she was standing. Her earrings gave a slight ring as she straightened, but he didn't dare open his eyes until he heard her footsteps recede down the hallway.
Later that week, Spock directed a question at Uhura from his desk and received no response. He repeated it, but her silence continued. When he looked up, he saw her sitting on the couch, leaning slightly against its arm, head cocked to one side. The sound of her breathing was even and slow. He watched her for a moment, considered whether or not he should wake her. He noted the shadows which had formed under her eyes in the past couple of weeks. The end of the semester was wearing on her. Perhaps she was not getting enough rest. Her chin dropped to her chest.
Spock crossed his office and knelt before her. He cupped one side of her head and inched it upright. Despite his attempts at being as gentle as possible, her eyes fluttered open suddenly. When they met his, he saw her face change into an indecipherable expression. He studied it with a mild curiosity.
"Commander?" she whispered.
He released her. "The angle of your head might have put strain on your neck. I was attempting to prevent such a discomfort."
"Oh. Thank you."
He nodded slightly and stood. "You are welcome. Perhaps you should return to your quarters and rest."
"Yeah…"
He watched her gather her things from around the room.
"Miss Uhura…" he began.
"Hm?"
"I would like to thank you for covering me on Monday."
"Covering you?"
"With my jacket."
Uhura paused, her bag poised on her desk as she slipped her things back inside. "Oh. You were awake?"
"I was meditating."
"Why didn't you say something?"
Spock didn't have a good answer for this. He had been debating the positives and negatives of expressing his gratitude on that point for the past few days. On the one hand, he had been attempting to practice what humans called "positive reinforcement" with more frequency over the course of the semester. He had, in his most recent evaluation, been told that he was lacking in the verbalized commendation and encouragement that were essential to effective command and instruction. On the other hand, he was certain this situation was different from any other acknowledgements of appreciation, though he could not be sure exactly why.
"I was meditating," he repeated when he was unable to come up with a better response.
Uhura squinted at him for a moment and then shrugged. "No problem, I guess. This winter must be hard on you."
"The temperatures are lower than average for this time of year."
"Is that a complaint?"
"Complaining is illogical. Repeatedly restating an undesirable fact does not change it."
Uhura grinned and swung her bag over her shoulder. Discovering that he was half-human had heightened her sensitivity to the subtleties and undertones of his deadpan. Her sharp ears caught the very minor variations in his tone, and she was beginning to get a sense of his personality, despite all of its Vulcan muffling.
"I won't tell, Commander." She winked at him on her way out.
Spock sat staring at the closed door, dwelling on the way she looked at him when she woke. Each time their gazes met, he recounted the many times she had commented on his eyes. More than once he found himself pausing in front of his mirror, examining his own expression. Still, he could not determine what about it she found so fascinating.
In the last week of the semester, Uhura placed a small red bag on his desk. He raised one eyebrow questioningly.
"It's a Christmas present," she said. When he opened his mouth to protest, she held up her palm and continued. "Yes, Commander, I know that you probably don't celebrate. But I also wanted to thank you for everything this semester."
He paused, before nodding. "I will accept, then. Although, I am the one who should be expressing gratitude. This semester, very few students withdrew from my class. I have also found that they have been performing better on assignments. It seems our rapport during lectures has rendered me less… intimidating to my students. Until now, very few sought me out after class, but your presence here has made my office hours appear more approachable. I have been offered the position for spring semester, as enrollment has doubled, and I must attribute this partially to your abilities. If your schedule and commitments permit, would you agree to assist me once more next semester?"
Uhura's eyes lit up. "Yes, absolutely! I admit I had my reservations, but I really am falling in love with communications. And working with you has been… fun." She looked away, barely catching herself before she could say "surprisingly".
He nodded. The change in her demeanor illustrated clearly why his superiors insisted on such unnecessary statements of gratitude. It left him with a unique satisfaction. "I will be in touch at the end of our recess."
He picked up his stylus, but noticed that she had not yet left his desk. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Aren't you going to open it?"
He looked at her for a moment, before putting down his stylus once more and reaching carefully into the bag. He pulled out a dark gray hat and stared blankly at it.
"Well, you said that winters were hard for you," she said unsurely. "So… I thought this might, you know. Protect your ears." She flicked the tip of one of her own.
"That was… considerate, Miss Uhura." He paused and looked up at her. "Thank you."
When he said nothing more she gave a nervous shrug and excused herself. She walked back to her dorm at a brisk pace, feeling ridiculous. It was a stupid present.
Never one for empty days, Cadet Uhura filled her winter break with flight training in the mornings, volunteering three afternoons a week at an after school program for off-world children, and teaching herself Romulan, one of the only major alien languages not offered in the Academy. When the holidays neared, she took a week to visit her family in Nairobi, playing with her little cousins and getting a head start on next semester's readings on their verandah. On the weekends, her friends forced her to go out, allowing for no excuses in the middle of vacation. In the moments between, she did research on her thesis. Despite the jam-packed schedule that might have overwhelmed a less driven human 22-year-old, Uhura felt refreshed by all the activity.
One night, after a long evening alone with wine and her thesis, she felt the sudden urge to speak to Commander Spock. What began as one offhand question quickly escalated into a whole list of things she wanted his opinion on. After a moment's thought, she sent him a quick transmission.
Dear Commander Spock,
There are some aspects of my thesis that I would like to discuss with you. Particularly, a section that references an old, niche Vulcan text which I can't seem to find a complete transcription of anywhere. I was wondering if you're familiar with it, and if you wanted meet sometime next week to talk about it?
Best Regards,
Cadet Uhura
She was surprised by the almost immediate response.
Cadet Uhura,
I am currently visiting my home on Vulcan. Therefore I cannot meet next week.
Commander Spock
She frowned, and then felt embarrassed for asking. Of course he didn't want to spend his time off with one of his students—especially not one who was constantly badgering him about her thesis during the semester. Her PADD gave a trill as she poured herself another glass of wine.
She squinted at the short line.
I will be back in the following week, if you are available then. Please specify which book you are referring to. –S
She snatched it up and typed a response.
I am familiar with the text. Shall we have coffee? –S
Uhura read it twice, bewildered. She looked dubiously at her wine. Maybe she had one too many.
Coffee? –NU
My office building will be closed. You previously suggested drinking coffee as an alternative. –S
Coffee sounds—she paused, smirked—acceptable. –NU
A week and a half later, Uhura watched Spock approach through the wide front window of a café just off campus. She arrived early to organize her notes before their meeting, and recognized his even gait through the corner of her eye. He wore gray pants and a black jacket nearly identical to his uniform, zipped all the way up despite the relatively mild weather. His ears were tucked into a simple gray hat which, from a distance, didn't look very different from his hair. She pursed her lips, afraid of smiling too widely when she greeted him.
He sat across from her and placed a neatly wrapped rectangular package on the table between them.
She curled her fingers around it. "What is this?"
"A gift. I understand that Christmas is a time where gifts are exchanged. As I received one from you, it would be customary for me to reciprocate."
"You really didn't have to."
"Perhaps not. But it will benefit you to accept."
It was an old, bound paper book. She flipped through pages covered in Vulcan script. She turned to the cover and inhaled sharply. It was the book she had been looking for. "I can't accept this!" She pushed the book towards him. "How did you even come by it?"
"It was in my family's archive."
Uhura couldn't help but wonder what kind of family had a personal archive, especially one with such rare material. "I definitely can't accept it then. Isn't it like… a family heirloom?"
"Our archive is extensive. My father will not notice its absence. It will be of more use in your hands, where it will be read and studied, as was its intended purpose."
She wasn't sure whether she should be touched. His demeanor gave no indication of this being a particularly sentimental gesture. "Would you be in trouble if he found out?"
"I am already in trouble. And he will not find find out. At least not for a few decades."
Uhura raised her eyebrows. "I didn't realize you were so rebellious, Commander I-Never-Miss-A-Button-On-My-Uniform."
"I do not understand the relevance of my buttons."
She smiled. He didn't deny being rebellious. But of course, Vulcans didn't lie. She covered it with the wrapping paper to protect the fragile bindings and slipped it into her bag, folding a sweater around it for extra padding. "Thank you. I'll treat it with care."
They sat in the coffee shop for hours. Their intellectual parlay was natural and inexhaustible, and Uhura grew more animated with every word. Spock felt inexplicably refreshed by their conversations. He was surprised by how keenly he anticipated their meeting, and how comfortable he was in her presence. She never seemed bothered by his affected speech or his insistence on following logic, the way most humans did. At the same time, she passed over any indications of emotion that punctuated his behavior from time to time, which Vulcans treated with disdain and humans answered with unbridled astonishment and discomfort. Perhaps this was an example of the way proximity lead to affinity.
"Are you hungry?" she asked suddenly as they hovered between topics.
"Moderately."
"Do you want to get dinner? I was going to tell you about this place I found when the semester started, but since we're here now…" She put away her PADD and began to slide her arms into her jacket.
Spock saw no logical reason not to accept. He would require a meal that night regardless. He nodded and stood up. He saw her watching him intently as he slid the hat back over his ears. "This gift was useful." He thought she might be seeking an affirmation.
"Logical?"
He paused. "Are you teasing me, Miss Uhura?"
She laughed in response. "Come on."
They walked through campus, past the academy bar crawl which was just beginning to light up with evening activity. After ten or so minutes, Uhura ducked into a small alley. The restaurant was mainly for take out, but two small tables were tucked into one corner. She placed her bag on one of them.
"This is Vulcan cuisine." Spock observed aloud after surveying the restaurant. The décor was in deep reds and oranges, and the temperature was much higher than necessary. A stern looking Vulcan woman with heavily lined, angular eyes stood at the counter.
They exchanged a respectful greeting in their native tongue. Spock pondered the menu for a moment before ordering. The woman seemed mildly surprised when Uhura ordered in Vuhlkansu as well.
"Nope!" Uhura extended her ID card as she watched Spock's hand reach into his pocket. "This one is on me. I owe you big time for the book, and all this extra help."
"It was a gift. You are not indebted to me." Spock attempted, but the meal was taken care of before he could protest further. They sat across from each other, their knees nearly touching under the small table. Their food arrived.
"You're smiling." Uhura commented happily as she watched him take the first bite.
"It is quite authentic."
"Exceptional?"
"Yes. Exceptional."
Uhura began eating as well. "A classmate of mine who spent last semester on Vulcan recommended it. I thought you might like it."
As they scraped the last bites of their respective meals Spock placed his spoon down and stared at her pensively. "Miss Uhura, may I make an inquiry?"
"Yeah?"
"This type of personal gesture concerns me. Are you seeking to win some form of favoritism?"
Her face fell into a frown. "Favoritism?"
"You will soon be in your final year, when you will be seeking recommendations for assignment. I have noticed that you initiated interactions more frequently towards the end of last semester. You have even requested a meeting during your holiday. I would like to clarify that such gestures will not have any effect on my willingness to recommend you, nor will it alter the content of such a recommendation."
Uhura's lips tensed and her eyebrows fell. She immediately stood up, gathering her bag and jacket.
Spock nodded, confirming his initial suspicion. "I will see you—"
"No, don't act like you're right, like you're the one being logical." Uhura tried to keep her voice measured, but the tips of her syllables trembled with rage. "After all the time we've spent together, do you really think that I'm that kind of person?" She shook her head in disbelief. "How do I put this as clearly as possible? You have offended me, Commander. Just when I thought I was actually starting to like you."
They stared into each other's eyes for a drawn out pause. Uhura towered over Spock's seated frame, her shoulders squared and her chin high. Spock, for once, could not articulate an immediate response. She left him in the restaurant, staring at his empty bowl.
"Humans are easy to anger," the woman from the counter said sympathetically as she cleared the table. He did not feel comforted.
Spock grappled with confusion as he embarked on the walk home alone. He repeated Cadet Uhura's words in his mind, trying to parse her meaning. If he was mistaken, then anger would be the correct human response to expect from her. In that case, he would have been mistaken about her twice, which was a rare occurrence.
His thoughts kept circling back to the same logical possibility that he found difficult to consider: that he suspected her of vying for favoritism because he was, in fact, beginning to favor her company. The sky shook off a light dusting of fine snowflakes, which melted as soon as they touched the ground. He attempted to clear his mind and focus on the cold air against his cheeks, but he could not ignore the warmth that wrapped the tips of his ears.
