A.N. In case you haven't noticed, this story now says, "Pt. 1" alongside the title. I had originally planned for this to be a two part story and I just finished the outline for the end of this story and the next one. It's gonna rock :D

Oh, and I know I've been taking too long. My bad. I blame my bun in the oven.

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The next morning I wake up still wearing the black skimpy not enough boob room dress. Needless to say I had popped out during the night. I am also cuddled up against an equally scantily clad Armas, who is still clutching her bottle of wine. Obviously the night had continued after I blacked out. I sit up and notice the floor strewn with my clothes, all ruined with scissors. I curse under my breath and get up. What the hell did I do last night? Armas stirs as I start picking up the mess of tattered uniforms and everyday clothes.

"Hey," she says with a yawn. "What's up?"

I glare at her, holding up my favourite jeans stained beyond repair with wine and riddled with holes. "Obviously a mutant moth got into my closet last night."

She rubs her eyes, her curly hair very poofy. "You don't remember? You said you didn't dress sexy enough and decided to cut up your clothes so you'd have to order new ones. You bought a new wardrobe last night."

"I WHAT?" I scream, my mouth open in shock.

Armas's face changes from sleepy to shocked, then slightly disappointed. "You really don't remember anything that happened last night?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. After you walked to the replicator to get your wine, there's nothing." Armas gets two bloody marys from the replicator, handing me one. "What all happened?"

She sips her gross drink, the hangover cure, avoiding my eyes. "Not much. Just the clothes thing."

I sigh with relief, grimacing at my sip of bloody mary. "Good. I was praying I didn't drunk message Spock or anything."

The door pings and when Armas opens it, it's a delivery boy with my new wardrobe. Great. Opening the packages reveals clothes Armas would've worn, but magically made me look slimmer. Maybe I should drunk shop more often. They also showed major boobage, my best attribute so says Armas.

Judging by the amount of clothes I bought, I depleted my supply of credits. I don't have time to worry about modesty or try to rustle up something less revealing, so Armas drags me to class dressed like a modest slut (if such a thing exists).

The traditional Starfleet uniform has a few variations, allowing for creativity. The one I normally wear has a high neck and collar. The one I now have is low cut in the front, making my cleavage out and proud. The normal clunky red boots now have 3-inch heels and look like hooker shoes. Needless to say, I had every man's attention wherever I went.

Commander Asshole, aka. Thorn in my side, was M.I.A., reinforcing my idea that I was the one following him and that he and I never crossed paths normally. Or he was just hiding in his room and being a poopy head.

By lunchtime, the male attention has lost its glamour. None of them are Spock, the one guy I want all over me.

Armas is sitting next to me at our table, literally beating the guys off with a stick. Jeez, are they all going into Pon Farr and think I'm their betrothed? Go find another girl to hump.

"You'd think they never saw a girl before," Armas says with a laugh, rolling her eyes.

"They just know a slut when they see one." I roll my eyes, not even looking to my left where I know Jhara is. "Have fun with the fishies, Gracie?" She laughs evilly while I crush my cup into my fist.

"Have fun packing your things, Jharie?" Armas says with a sarcastic grin. Jhara's face could've cut stone, even though it wasn't as terrifying as the look Spock had given me the day before. Before I can ask what Armas is talking about, she adds, "Hope you don't mind picking coffee with your loser family since you've been expelled."

I laugh into my hand, trying not to be too obvious that I'm in hysterics. Yes, I hate Jhara's guts and all, but her career is ruined now. I feel sorry for her. Just kidding, I feel no remorse. Maybe. Jhara storms off, no surprise there.

I pick through my salad. "Finally got hers. Wonder who tattled."

"Spock did. He got the council to kick her out of school after what she did to you." Armas doesn't look excited, like she normally would for a guy that looks out for me.

"Really?" I say, my mouth full of lettuce.

She nods. "Plus he kept saying you were not to leave his side because of some healing he had to do to you. He wouldn't even let you go when they fixed his arm."

I stare in confusion. "Healing? He didn't mention any healing."

She shrugs. "That's all I know. Before I went to bed, you'd lost that haunted look on your face, all cuddled in his arms. And then he started sweating and I left before he could sprout tentacles or spit healing fluid in your mouth, or something gross like that."

I smile at her joking, but am too distracted. He had started sweating? I reach for my spoon, then drop it as it suddenly hits me. He took my nightmares away. It hadn't even occurred to me that I'd had no shark nightmares since the incident, when I fully expected to be up all night screaming with them.

"Quick, show me a picture of a shark," I say, tapping Armas's plate.

"You sure?" she says cautiously, pulling out her tricorder. I nod, and she pulls an image up, putting it in my face.

Nothing.

Big teeth, bloody mouth, and huge fins. I feel nothing. Armas checks the screen to make sure the right image is there, and puts it back in front of me.

"Why aren't you peeing your pants?" she asks, waving the tricorder closer to me.

I grab it from her and stand up. "Excuse me, gotta go find Commander Cock." I grin at her and start running.

From Spock's mind meld, I now know exactly where his room is, and I beeline to it as fast as my hooker heels will take me. The door opens and I'm greeted with Spock's bare ass.

Oh lord…there is such a thing as God….

I clear my throat, but instead of jumping three feet in the air and landing on his ass, as I would have done, he merely bends and grabs his towel, covering heaven, as if I hadn't made a sound. When he turns, his towel is tented. I immediately blush and grin, while averting my eyes, almost forgetting why I came here.

"Yes, Grace?" he says, sounding as if I'm here to turn in homework.

I meet his eyes and thrust the tricorder up to him. His reaction is instant, and one that I have used on occasion, before now that is. He cries out, and takes a step back, putting out a hand to cover the picture up with.

"What's the matter, Spock? Afraid of sharks?" I wiggle it back into his view. His hand shoots out, taking my wrist and forcing me to drop the tricorder. "You took my fear of them away and transferred it to yourself."

"Your fear was very powerful, Grace. I knew that it would haunt you for many months after what happened." His hand strokes my wrist slowly.

"So you'll have nightmares now? You'll wake up screaming?" I try to pull away, but he holds my hand tightly.

"No. I am Vulcan. We do not show fear, nor let it conquer us."

"Funny," I say, grabbing his other hand. "You showed something just now."

"I do not understand why you pretend to know more about Vulcans than I do." His eyebrows slant more, a sure sign he's annoyed.

I laugh once. "Because I can read you like a book, Spock. You show every emotion you feel, just like a human does. Well, actually, humans can hide theirs sometimes. Unlike you." I feel his anger, but can't stop. "You show every annoyance, every amusement." I take one step and grind myself against his erection. "You even show every time you think I'm the hottest thing in the universe. So don't tell me I'm stupid, Spock."

My hand finds his towel and I do the most un-Grace-like thing I've ever done. I yank his towel off him, grab his hair with both hands, and pull his sinful lips to mine.

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