Definitely neglecting my other fic for this. Tropey fics are just too fun.
"So how are the ka'athyra lessons going?"
As usual, Amanda brings up the topic her son least wants to discuss. They are chatting over subspace video transmission as they both grade papers—an activity they often enjoy doing together.
Spock pauses, holding his stylus up over his PADD without looking up. "Adequately. Cadet Uhura improves steadily each week. We have progressed from scales to simple folk songs."
"How long has it been since you started?" Amanda scowls at something on her PADD and stops to scribble out a long comment.
"One month, two weeks, and three days."
Amanda smiles and looks up at him. She always delights in both his and his father's ability to recount exact numbers rather than approximations. Early in her acquaintance with Sarek, she would ask him things like "How long has it been since you last visited this restaurant?" or "Exactly when will we arrive at our destination?" just to hear him recite the time to the second. It is one of the few things Spock knows about their courtship—something he has great difficulty imagining.
She notices him deliberately avoiding her gaze and raises an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"That is a vague question, Mother. Please elaborate."
"You seem a little… agitated." Amanda purses her lips. It is rare to see her son exhibiting any emotional status, positive or negative. "Are the lessons not going well?"
"As I said, they are—"
"Is it the choir practice then?" she gives him a conspiratorial grin. "Are they that bad?"
"No, they have been performing the selected Vulcan hymns unexpectedly well."
"Then what is it?"
Spock hesitates for a moment, and then puts down his stylus. "I have reason to believe that Cadet Uhura dislikes me."
To his surprise, Amanda begins to laugh. "Oh, Spock."
He frowns.
His mother's expression is a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "You're sulking because your favorite student doesn't like you?"
"I do not have a favorite student—it is illogical to have such preference when attempting to make impartial educational assessments." Spock says defensively.
"Of course, of course," Amanda waves her hand. "I'm not saying you're giving her any preferential treatment. But I've been a teaching for many years, and I can tell you for sure that even if you don't act on that preference, every teacher has a favorite student."
Spock is unconvinced. "It is not that I favor her as a student," he argues, despite having a nagging suspicion that he might. "I simply find her animosity inconvenient given the frequency with which we interact."
"Well, however you want to put it." Amanda shrugs. "Why don't you try some kind of bonding activity—where you can talk about things outside of academics and lessons. Sometimes it helps me if I meet personally with difficult students to understand what their life is like outside of school. Then I can get a better sense of their needs, and what methods of teaching are most effective with them."
"… I am unsure what kind of activity would be appropriate." He cannot imagine such an encounter with Cadet Uhura, or what she would even agree to do with him.
"Well aren't you lucky to have a mother with just the thing in mind." Amanda smirks. "I have two invitations to your father's ka'athyra performance on the Earth's Lunar Colony—for you and a companion."
Spock clenches his jaw in an attempt to hide his displeasure at the idea. He has not seen his father outside of official Starfleet business since he left Vulcan to enroll at the Academy. He does not like the idea of doing so for the first time with Cadet Uhura in tow.
"Oh, you won't have to see him." Amanda rolls her eyes, catching his poorly masked distaste. "You can just come for the performance and leave. But if you come, you will get to see me."
This is a far more pleasing thought. It has been several months since he has seen his mother in person.
"And I'd like to meet this Cadet Uhura who seems to be taking up so much of your time. If she likes ka'athyra as much as you say, I'm sure she'd love to see Sarek perform. It's a pretty rare opportunity."
Spock tries to picture what kind of face she would make if he asks her. He thinks of the way she gazed at him through the window on the first day she found him in the practice rooms—the fixed, rapturous expression, lips slightly parted.
"I will consider it." he tilts his head at last, and the way Amanda beams convinces him that she is already expecting to see them there.
"Sonia!" Cadet Uhura is the first to react as her friend crumples to the ground mid-song, during a particularly extended note. The choir falls silent, save for a few gasps and exclamations. Spock places his ka'athyra down and rises from his place on a chair beside the risers, his Starfleet emergency training immediately taking over. As he crosses the room and takes the cadet into his arms, he is momentarily uncertain whether he is responding to the urgent situation or if it was Cadet Uhura's sharp cry that caused him to jump up so quickly.
There is no time for that line of thought—he shoves it into the back of his consciousness and focuses on the girl limp in his arms. He lays her out on the tile floor, cupping her head gently. He checks her vitals—stable, but her heart rate is slightly elevated. He presses one of his sensitive ears to her chest, analyzing her breathing. There is something rough about the way the air rushes in and out of her lungs.
"I will take her to the infirmary. It will be faster than calling emergency services." The East Infirmary is just two buildings away—a quick jaunt, and much easier than explaining the situation over a comm call, and then waiting for a paramedic. He picks her up carefully, being sure to hold her head elevated. Her small, pale face leans into his chest and she utters a short rasp.
"I'm coming with you," Cadet Uhura says firmly, standing up with him. He takes one look at her fierce expression and knows he does not have it in his power to dissuade her.
"Very well," he nods. The two of them cross the quad in quick stride, earning puzzled looks from passing cadets and officers. As soon as they enter the infirmary, medical personnel are upon them. Spock lays Cadet Blanco on a stretcher and explains in the quickest terms what happened as they fasten an oxygen mask to her face.
Cadet Uhura remains in the waiting room, speaking urgently into her comm. She has just flipped it closed when he joins her. "I called Sonia's brother," she explains, shoving the device back into her pocket. "He lives in San Francisco, so he'll be here really soon." She lets out a shaky breath and sits down. "Thank you for your help, Lieutenant Commander."
"I did what was necessary." He considers what he will do next. He should file an incident report, collect his ka'athyra from the practice room, begin reviewing tomorrow morning's lecture—anything except what he actually does, which is sit down next to the cadet.
"As far as I could discern, she is not in any imminent danger." Spock says, unsure of what other comfort to offer. He does not have the expertise to determine the cause of Cadet Blanco's sudden illness, and does not want to give Cadet Uhura false reassurances. She sighs again in response. He feels an impulse to put his arm around her, but does not indulge in it.
Since they began spending more time together, Spock has been plagued by sudden urges to initiate physical contact with Cadet Uhura. Whenever they touch accidentally, he finds it difficult to pull away. He is drawn to her unwillingly: the sharp look in her eyes, the way her lips move when she speaks, even when she is upset—especially when she is upset, and her mouth tenses in a way that twists his insides.
He reminds himself often that it is not unreasonable to be attracted to Cadet Uhura. She is an objectively attractive woman—he catches many others, cadets and officers alike, casting long, lingering looks on her face and figure. He has noticed during choir rehearsals that her friend, first year Cadet Jackson Hunt, watches her attentively, even when they are not conversing, and touches her 45% more often than necessary.
However, this attraction is highly inconvenient, given the fact that he sees her so often between Advanced Phonology (where she never fails to occupy a seat in the first row), their biweekly ka'athyra lessons, and the choir practice he attends once per week.
The two hold a long silence, listening to the din of passing medical staff and the low-volume newscast playing on a holoprojector in the corner. At last, Spock says in a low voice, "You may be excused from your scheduled ka'athyra lesson tonight, if you would like to be with your friend."
"That's very kind of you." She looks up at him and tilts her head. "I'm surprised you haven't pointed out yet that there's really nothing I can do."
"That is true," he leans back and folds his fingers between his knees. "However, humans find proximity to their companions comforting in moments of distress. I did not want to deny you that comfort."
She flashes him a quick smile—rare, for him to be on the receiving end of such an expression. Though he has observed her to be generally amicable and pleasant with others, she almost never directs such warmth towards him. "That is shockingly considerate of you, Lieutenant Commander. But you're right. There's nothing I can do once her brother gets here. A little music might keep my mind off it. Besides, I've been practicing."
Cadet Blanco's brother, an engineering lieutenant in his thirties, arrives then, eyes wide with concern. He thanks them profusely, promising to call Cadet Uhura as soon as he has a clearer understanding of his sister's health.
They return to the choir room to gather their instruments and upon finding it empty, decide to carry out their lesson there.
Cadet Uhura sits on the risers facing Spock and he holds his instrument in his lap, allowing her to demonstrate the song they have been working on for the past couple of weeks. Her execution is impressive, especially for a human. Afterwards, they return to the refrains that she stumbled on, playing them more slowly. Spock demonstrates the correct finger positioning, and is thankful when she is able to observe and echo his movements accurately. He does not dare touch her hands.
"You have been improving," he says once he is satisfied with his corrections.
"Is that why you've been nitpicking lately?" she replies with a sidelong glance.
"You will not continue to improve if I am not critical." He frowns. She smirks and he raises an eyebrow. "I see. You are not upset, just feigning anger in jest."
"How astute of you, Lieutenant Commander."
"Humans have truly peculiar humor."
For an odd, anomalous moment, they are smiling at each other. He wonders if this is the right moment to ask her about the concert. He is in the midst of devising an appropriate way to pose the question when she interrupts his thoughts.
"There's something else I've been practicing. May I?" She holds her instrument in position, waiting for his assent. He nods and she clears her throat. Spock sits straighter. The song he had been teaching her has a vocal component, though it has not been part of their lessons. Cadet Uhura has apparently done her own research. Her playing is clumsier this time, but he finds he does not mind. The room, fitted with optimal acoustics for vocal performance, swells with the crystalline quality of her voice. The intimate way her lips wrap around Vulcan syllables is more pronounced in song, drawn out in the leisurely tempo of the lyrics. Spock feels his mouth become dry.
Each time he manages to cram his feelings back into their rightful place in his mental framework, her voice yanks them back out. There are fleeting instants when she sings, gazing out at something unknowable in the middle distance, that he feels something beyond attraction—something foreign that he cannot name. He wants suddenly to reach out and press his fingers onto her temples, see what it is that brightens her eyes in such a captivating way.
He feels it when they argue as well—an urgency that puts him on edge, and makes him almost snappy. The sparks that seem to glimmer in her eyes during strong displays of emotion have a strange way of provoking him. The impulse alarms him.
It takes a moment for him to realize that she has finished her song. "What do you think?" she asks hesitantly, after he is unresponsive for too long.
He is not sure what to say. 'Beautiful' is a sentimental and inadequate term. 'Fascinating' sounds too detached. 'Incredible' would be an exaggeration; she made many mistakes. Her expression is just beginning to harden into telltale signs of irritation when they are interrupted by the chirping of her communicator. She places the instrument down and jumps up, nearly dropping her comm in an effort to answer the call as quickly as possible.
"Matt? Hey! Is she okay?" Cadet Uhura's face fills with instantly evident relief. They lock eyes and he knows without verbal explanation that whatever ails Cadet Blanco is not serious. He nods and she disappears into the hallway to take the call.
Spock stares at his screen for a long time, his communicator clutched in his palm, staring at his console. Cadet Uhura's profile from his class roster is open, her comm ID underneath her name and room number.
He had returned to his quarters and attempted to review his curriculum for Advanced Phonology,but could banish neither Cadet Blanco's condition, nor Cadet Uhura's distress from his thoughts. He considered meditating on it, but at last settled that a comm call inquiring about Cadet Blanco's health might be appropriate. Still, he finds himself hesitating before dialing her number. Perhaps she will consider it invasive, inappropriate?
After some extensive mental debate, he dials her at last.
"This is Nyota Uhura." Her voice is puzzled, formal. The sound, isolated from her physical form, invokes memories of her as a child.
"Cadet Uhura." There is a long silence on the other line. He realizes he has not introduced himself. "It is Lieutena—"
"I know," she says quickly. "How can I help you?"
"I was calling to inquire about Cadet Blanco's condition. I understand that you visited her in the infirmary after our lesson."
"Oh." Her surprise is evident in her voice. "Yeah, uh… it's an Andorian infection that she contracted on a research internship this past summer. It's slow acting, so it didn't show symptoms until now. Something about slowly freezing her lungs—I'm not sure about the details."
"Is it treatable?"
"Oh, uh, yeah. A month-long hypo regiment will take care of it."
"That is good." After a moment's hesitation, Spock adds, "I hope that your anxiety on the matter has decreased?"
Her laugh vibrates pleasantly against his ear. "Yeah, a lot. Though… well, we'll see what happens with the choir. She might not be able to sing for a while." Another long pause follows, ending with Cadet Uhura saying unsurely, "So I'll… see you in class tomorrow?"
"Yes, although… I had an inquiry."
"Yeah?"
"I have two invitations to attend a ka'athyra performance by Ambassador Sarek on the Lunar Colony next Saturday evening. Would you like to accompany me?"
For a moment he can only hear her breathing. He just begins to regret his question when she replies with an enthusiastic, "Oh my god, yes! I haven't seen him perform since I was a kid!"
He briefly wishes that he had asked her this question in person. He would have liked to see the expression that accompanies the delight evident in her voice.
"We will have to stay overnight on the colony—there are no available civilian transports back to Earth after the concert's conclusion. Does that conflict with your schedule in any way?"
"Um…" there something odd in the stillness he hears on the other end of the comm. He can almost see her face twist into displeasure at the thought of spending such a prolonged time with him. "No, no. That's fine."
"You have no obligation to continue in my company after the performance," he adds, hoping this will quell her reluctance.
"Okay…." She does not sound cheered.
"I will transmit you the travel information later tonight." Spock suddenly wants to end their call as quickly as possible. "Good night, Cadet Uhura."
"Good night, Lieutenant Commander."
Spock stares at his darkened kitchen as he tries to imagine such an extended period alone with Cadet Uhura. An unfamiliar nervousness buds within him at the thought.