Wow, you like me, you really like me! Many, many thanks to all who took the time to review-you make me smile. I would especially like to thank AtanaM who so nicely pointed out a small discrepancy in the first chapter because that took a really good eye.

And, as always, my beta, mhgood, is a fantastically wonderful person.

Nyota Uhura does not want Prince Charming. She does not want some fairy tale where she waits in a tower for some James Kirk to come on a stupid horse and "save her." She doesn't need saving, she doesn't want some pretty-boy thinking that she didn't know what she wanted.

She knows exactly what she wants, she always knows exactly what she wants.

She wants Spock.

She had fallen in love with him slowly. They had gone out to dinner after spending the afternoon researching. Spock had realized that he had kept her from dinner and insisted on making up for it by taking her out. He insisted that it was customary among human colleagues and she didn't have the heart to refuse him. After a fantastic Thai dinner and lengthy conversation about Romulan dialects, he had walked her back to her dormitory, and, when she turned to thank him, she hadn't realized how close he was. He had smelled of rain and patchouli and his eyes were darker than they normally were, suddenly so much more expressive than he let them be. She had forgotten what she was going to say, had forgotten how to make her mouth formulate words. She thought nothing and felt everything, all in a moment that lasted seconds. He had cleared his throat, bid her good night and walked away.

The next day she kissed him for the first time.

Now there is a sickening feeling in her stomach, the very same feeling she felt as a child when she knew that her parents were going to punish her.

"We'll speak of it later."

He would quote regulations at her, tell her that if it were any other captain, she would be court martialed. He would remind her that it was logical to simply ignore the Captain and that her outburst was unbecoming.

She blushes with shame, looking at her cereal. She loses her appetite, now just pushing around the cereal in her bowl as she steals glances at Spock. She tries so hard, so hard to understand, to be logical and Vulcan, and ultimately fails miserably. She tries to stand up for her...what is he, exactly? Boyfriend? Lover? Friend with benefits?

Things happened so fast. They just took it one day at a time when she was still a cadet and then all of a sudden she became a Lieutenant, and...now she was sitting on the Enterprise, pushing around cereal after calling the Captain the most dama Vulcan language insult in the universe.

It isn't going to be a good day.

She gets up, mumbling something about going to the bridge, not waiting to hear what the others have to say. She puts her tray away, walking out of the mess and to the bridge.

Kirk is talking to Chekov when she goes to her console, not even looking at Spock when he walks past her. She can't. She has to work now, will be on duty for the next ten hours. She can't think about him right now.

There is silence in space today. It would be disconcerting if they weren't in one of the more remote parts of the Federation, making a routine patrol to ensure the safety of the Federation Worlds. She wishes there were something, anything, to distract her from the man sitting a few feet away from her. She can feel his glances; shocks run up her spine and she desperately wants to go over to him, to make sure that things are okay between them.

Oddly enough, Kirk is more quiet than he usually is, and Nyota almost misses his chatter, his madcap questions to Chekov and Sulu, his provocations to Spock.

Instead they sit in awkward silence, only talking when they needed to, every word pertaining to their jobs and the Enterprise.

It is unbelievably painful.

She is amazingly grateful when her shift is over. The most exciting communique she intercepted was a transmission of an Orion starship alerting the Enterprise of its presence.

She goes back to her quarters after Kirk relieves her of her duties for the day. She sighs once she hears the door ping behind her and she's able to take her hair down and take off her boots. If Spock wants to talk to her, then he's going to have to come to her. Tonight is a night for a Cardassian sunrise, she thinks as she rubs her temples. She almost hopes that he doesn't come to her, that he just stays away, but she hates the thought of prolonging this more than she hates the thought of arguing with him.

It's not supposed to be easy, she knows this. She knew that the moment she kissed him. He is a half-Vulcan and she is going to have to accept it. She understands this, she accepts this, but she is so tired of swallowing, so tired of nodding her head and accepting the things he can't give her, can't say to her, and feeling terrible because sometimes she just wants him to press her up against the wall of the turbolift and kiss her senseless. She wants to hear I love you in every language he knows and she wants to know what she is to him, if anything.

She falls asleep waiting for him.

She thinks it's a dream when she wakes to him kissing her.

It's never felt like this--barely restrained, as if he were about to lose control at any moment.

"Nyota," he whispers, his hands everywhere, leaving her wanting.

She moans, hating herself for being so weak that she can't shove him and demand to know where they stand, but wants this to continue, wants to stop thinking and feeling and being long enough to feel free. He does this to her, he's always done this to her and she wants it, just as she always does.

She trails her fingers along his face, tracing his ears. "Spock."

"You were angry today."

He continues to kiss her and touch her and it's distinctly unfair that he can form coherent sentences when she's left senseless.

"Yes," she says.

"At me?"

She removes his hands. This has to be said, she can't be distracted. "At myself, Spock. I was angry at myself for my outburst."

He shook his head in disagreement. "You should not harbor anger towards yourself. Kirk was being deliberately combative. Your response was natural. I apologize if my behavior indicated that I disapproved of your actions."

It's such a Spock thing to say that she smiles, but her smile doesn't last. It dies as she remembers there is something else she needs to say, that she needs to ask him before they move past this.

"Spock, how do you feel about me?"

He considers the question like he's never truly thought about it before. "I--" he stops himself. "I find--" he halts again. "Aren't my attentions adequate demonstrations of my feelings, Nyota?" he asks in a small voice.

She feels like the world's biggest bitch. She knows he can't say the words. Spock is an amazing xenolinugist himself, but he is also Vulcan. They aren't bonded, and she can't expect him to say those words to her.

He does care for her, in his own way. He does kiss her, paying so much attention to what pleases her. He came to her last night when he was upset.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before she starts to cry. "I'm sorry, Spock, that was unfair."

He shakes his head. "It is customary on Earth that when one enters a relationship there is a reciprocation of words. You wish to hear my intentions towards you."

It's so clinical that she wants to make him stop. She doesn't want it this way. She thought she wanted the words, but she realizes how true the adage 'be careful what you wish for' is.

"Nyota," he takes a deep breath. He is just as nervous as she is, she realizes. She is amused, slightly, by the thought of Spock being anything but calm. He moves to the chair, as if he needs the space between them, just as much as she needed him not to touch her in order to form a coherent sentence. He looks down at his hands and she waits.

"I am...not adept at declaring myself. I find your company pleasurable, even soothing. I enjoy kissing you, I enjoy talking with you. I consider you my intellectual equal, and you make me realize..."

She holds her breath, has been doing so since he started talking. Breathing seems unnecessary at the moment, a demonstration of this suspension in time as he chooses his words.

"You make me realize that some emotions are good to feel."

It's not "I love you," and Spock is not a Prince Charming on a white horse.

But Nyota Uhura doesn't want Prince Charming, nor does she want a white horse, and Spock's words are enough to make her cry.

There is a slight crease in his eyebrows and his eyes search her, hoping to understand. "You're crying."

"I'm happy, Spock. That is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me."

She gets up from the bed, going over to him and sitting on his lap. It surprises him, his eyebrows are raised, but she doesn't care. She needs to be close to him, needs him to hold her, to hear that things are going to be alright now.

"I love you too," she tells him simply. He kisses the top of her head in response.

"Stay here tonight," she whispers.

"That would be most agreeable," he tells her.

She is asleep when he carries her over to the bed, climbing in with her.