Impatience.

An explicitly human emotion.

A most useless emotion.

Even with this in mind, Spock was unable to do anything against the unpleasant stirring inside his guts. Alone in his apartment, Spock sat by his kitchen table, trying to read the small text from the PADD that lightened the room. But to him, the text was oh so small, and the fantasies that tortured him were oh so enticing.

What would the outcome be?

Indeed, even if he at multiple occasions had criticized the human weakness for gambling; it was very illogical to engage in activities in which the outcome was beyond certainty. Despite having insisted upon this, he now (partially) understood the excitement of it. The nervousity, the tingles of insecurity.

And Spock was engaged in a very thrilling game of gamble.

The stake?

His dignity and heart.

Two things he wasn't even sure he had. But at that moment, they both seemed of severe importance.

Spock closed his eyes. The text was abysmally boring, and it paled in comparison to the reports of cadet Uhura. Her texts, to begin with, had much better grammar and nearly perfect Vulcan syntax. And her texts weren't about how to plant squash on Andorian stars. Spock had never, and was probably never to plant squash on any Andorian star; therefore, he felt the smallest pang of irritation at the cadet who had sent him the text. Spock had better things to do than to learn advanced space-botanic. He tried to re-read it once, twice, but the words just didn't sink into him- as if they were blurring together into an unreadable mass.

He sighed and closed the tab. The work had to be graded by tomorrow, but really, that-dare he say- bunch of quality rubbish wouldn't even earn an "E" in his world. A soft ticking was present in the room, and he turned his head to glance at the retro clock upon the wall. Ten past eight. In another ten minutes, class would start- with him as teacher.

And her as student.

Picking up his utensils, Spock prepared himself mentally for the face of that girl, so oblivious to his affections. It was hard, since her mere presence in his mind clouded his thoughts immensely; all of his Vulcan discipline was required for the action, but in the end, it was successful. He opened his grey closet and put on his grey jacket, adjusted the collar and nodded to his mirror image- all was well and correct. His mother would most certainly, if she were present, pinched his cheek and licked her finger to then moisturize his eyebrows. He, of course, abstained from such antics, and left his room with his PADD under his arm.

'…So', said Spock as he stood before the assembly of students that was his class, 'I believe we left at the chapter about…'

He closed his eyes. With all the commotion, his genius Vulcan brain had managed to erase all memories of what really mattered. Or, as the case was most likely to be, his human half had collided unpleasantly with the Vulcan part.

'The history of the Vulcan embassy, sir?' Suggested a familiar voice.

Uhura was beaming at him from her seat. Spock lamented the uncomfortable itch that the back of his neck had developed.

'Affirmative- the history of Vulcan embassy', Spock concluded, hiding the fact that he felt infinitely stupid, 'can anybody make an abridged version of what I have taught you in previous lesions?'

Uhura raised her hand. A sandy-haired cadet whose name Spock did not know rolled his eyes. Spock nodded towards Uhura.

'Anybody who isn't Uhura?' Mocked the sandy-haired cadet. Uhura turned her head to him and hissed, and then she continued her answer. However, Spock had stopped listening. He was too concentrated in trying to read her body language. Suffering from severe emotional handicap, it was hard, but she looked… positively neutral. Maybe he wasn't looking hard enough. Once again, he scanned her down and up. Yes, this time, he saw something. But it wasn't happiness, appreciation or anything resembling fondness- he figured, at least. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth was half-open. He blinked. Her mouth was moving; perhaps it was time to actually start listening. Human courtship was indeed complicated.

'I beg your pardon?' Spock said, the nagging feeling on the back of his head telling him to stop being stupid more present than ever.

'I asked you if you were feeling well, sir?' Uhura asked, 'you seem somewhat feverish? And you haven't made any remarks…'

'No, there was nothing to remark upon', Spock said, which wasn't a lie, because for him, there wasn't, 'excellent, yes I'm feeling excellent, now, to continue the research on…'

He licked his teeth and clenched his fist very slightly- nobody noticed these signs of Vulcan distress.

'The research on the history of the Embassy', he concluded, then cleared his throat. Half the class blinked, realizing something was really weird here, 'the… the goals for this scholar year include the ability to do independent research. Therefore, I would approve if you made a thorough research of an area of choice within the history of Vulcan embassies around the world. This essay should be finished within a week. Sent it to me by fax, PADD or manually. For research, visit the library of the academy. Good luck.'

The students in class sat motionless for a lesser period of time, trying to process what they had heard- Spock never let them do private research, let alone without any supervision. A lonely male cadet rose and began walking towards the door, encouraging other cadets to mimic his motions.

Spock turned his back to the remaining students, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. This was definitely not the correct way to face the highly unwelcome set of emotions. Spock had never appreciated his superior intellect more than he did now. At the same time, such a gift had also proven to be quite the problem as he was unable to, as humans put it, "think outside the box". At least he had managed to rescue the lesson along with his dignity. Some of it.

'Commander?'

Spock almost winced. Almost.

Uhura was just behind him, her hand reached out as if she was about to touch his shoulder. He turned around and took a step back; no, she most definitely wasn't going to touch his shoulder anytime soon. She wasn't going to touch him at all, because their level of intimacy didn't quite agree upon the fact. Spock looked around. Nobody else was there- then, it was safe to use first names.

'Nyota?' He asked. This was the first time they had spoken alone ever since he had sent her that box. It made him feel a bit… it made him feel. And he wasn't used to feeling, neither he was sure he liked it. Especially not the fact that he was wet under the eyebrows.

'You were acting weird during class, are you sure you're alright?' Uhura said and rubbed her hand slowly against her other arm's elbow.

'Yes I'm fine', said Spock swiftly, 'and you? Slept well?'

'I slept perfectly fine-', Uhurra began, and then shook her head, 'but seriously Spock, you can tell me anything you know?'

Spock raised an eyebrow. That statement was very much illogical; while Spock could tell Uhura anything, his mother had taught him that one mustn't tell people anything. For example, if you saw someone on the street who stopped you to ask if you thought they were fat (and, according to this example, the person in question weighed over one hundred-fifty kilograms), you mustn't tell this person your opinion, even though you could, because not only would it be rude, you might also risk physical injury.

According to this principle, Spock could tell Uhura:

"I am feeling distressful because of the fact that I let my mother, who acts as my guidance when it comes to my severe emotional handicap, persuade me into sending you an anonymous rose which symbolizes undying affection. Not only did I send you it because of the persistence of my mother, but because, quite against my will, I am finding myself inexplicably attracted to you. I am also not supposed to say this, but you are beautiful. That is what is wrong with me, and if you wish to help me, please remove any item of clothing you are currently wearing and-"

'I'm quite well, Nyota', Spock said abruptly and gave his human side a mental slap across the cheek for even voicing that thought inside of him, 'I … did not sleep very well, but as that does not affect my teaching, I fail to see why it should disturb you.'

Uhura's eyelids slid down slightly. She smiled.

'Oh, Spock, I'm just worried about you, can't you see?' Uhura said softly, 'I understand you- I've also had a lot of think of lately?'

It felt as if someone just pinched him underneath the navel. Excitement? Perhaps. He almost felt excitement at the thought of feeling excitement.

'Indeed?' Spock said and tried to sound as monotone as possible. He succeeded- Uhura was almost insulted by his apparent lack of interest, 'well, feel free to tell me more, Nyota.'

Nyota hesitated a bit, but she figured Spock wasn't exactly the one to gossip, plus, his brain might be of use in the process of revealing P.D's identity.

'I received an intriguing parcel', Uhura began and licked her lip. The sight of the pink tongue running over a maroon bottom lip was indeed fascinating, thought Spock, 'it contained a little yellow tulip.'

'I see', Spock said with a very dry throat.

'Okay, so, you know today is…', Uhura felt her cheeks warmth a bit, 'Valentine's day, you know about that?'

'The human mating ritual, yes.'

'Well, thing is, I received a flower', said Uhura, masking her surprise upon Spock's knowledge of Valentine's Day, 'it's… sort of childish really, this whole Valentine's thing.'

'Childish?'

'Yes, all too commercial for my taste', said Uhura with a clearly disgusted grimace.

'…Yes, I agree completely', Spock said hollowly. He'd have to speak to his mother about this.

'Anyway, the gesture was sweet nonetheless', Uhura said, 'even though I totally think it's childish- just you know, but, thing is, I have no idea whom it was from!'

Spock looked at the ceiling, and then he looked at his feet, then at Uhura. Not into her eyes, though.

'Am I correct in the assumption that you are seeking my advice in the matter?'

No, that didn't feel alright at all. They were feelings there; he knew it, in the vicinity of his chest and his stomach, but just not especially pleasant ones. Not ones he wished to further explore, so to speak.

'Yes, that would be', she said and tilted her head, causing black hair to cascade down her shoulder, 'that would be the correct assumption.'

His mother said it was rude to decline pleas for help. But then again, it was his brilliant mother who had gotten him into this predicament in the first place, and she was therefore not the appropriate person to consult. Spock smiled inwardly at his ironic use of the word brilliant.

'I…' Spock said, 'I think I could help you. What… what do you know of him, then?

Uhura smiled very broadly, and Spock suddenly felt as if he was struck by a brick upon the occipital area of his head. This was because the smile that Uhura produced made his insides twist, which wasn't pleasant because he felt a bit guilty. In a Vulcan way, which meant he wasn't planning on showing it outwardly in a thousand years.

'So, he sent me a note beside the rose', Uhura explained the details that Spock already knew too well, 'at first, I thought it said "to miss Uhura", but the thing is, I noticed there was a message behind.'

Spock damned the foul capacity of human erasers.

'It said "my beloved"', Uhura said slowly and emphasized her words with slow hand motions, 'can you believe it?'

'Hardly', Spock said.

'And here's the clue I was given', Uhura said, raising Spock's distress level by at least twenty-three percent. Not to mention, she stepped into his personal space. Which, needless to say, didn't make him feel like the luckiest bloke alive, 'I recognize the handwriting on the card', she confessed, then, as Spock was about to open his mouth, she quickly added, 'I know! I know it sounds highly illogical, but I know I've seen that writing somewhere, I just can't quite figure out where. That's why I thought you perhaps could help me, as you've seen most of the student's handwritings?'

Spock thought about it. She had jumped to a conclusion, something which humans have the unfortunate knack of doing. She directly assumed that he was a student. Well, he guessed, since his hopes had been to keep his identity secret, this was all for the best. However, at some point, he would be force to lie.

An activity which he was unable to engage in.

'Yes, I could… compare, the students handwriting with the letter', Spock suggested uncertainly, 'if I could have it back?'

Was this rejection?

She frowned, 'Back?'

'What I meant to say was that I wish to take a look at it', Spock said, 'it was a mere; as you humans put it, slip of the tongue. Although the term is quite ill-'

'Oh thank you so much, Spock, but I would love to be part of the investigation myself!' Uhura exclaimed, 'That is, wouldn't it be more efficient to perform the task of comparasion together?'

As well as utterly undignified, yes.

'Yes.' Spock said, 'you are quite right, Nyota. Shall we make an appointment at, shall we say my office at 160 hours tomorrow?'

'Sounds lovely, Spock!' Uhura smiled, 'gosh, but don't get me wrong, I am in no way excited about this- I think it's very childish, I just want to express my gratitude. Nothing more than gratitude, though.'

She laughed nervously, but Spock didn't notice the nervousity.

'Well, uhm, I should, get going, then?' She said and turned her back on him, 'see you there, then, Spock!'

'Yes I believe you will', he said faintly.

The direct moment after her closing the door, he pressed his forehead against the 3-D screen and started counting the numbers within "PI", a relaxing process for when in distress that his father had taught him of.

He would have to consult his mother about this.