Spock remained for a long time in the darkness of the early morning, sitting in the bed beside Nyota as she lay sprawled out amid the sheets. In the silence he could hear the gentle rasp of her breath, loud to his sensitive ears but comforting all the same. He ran his eyes across the long, slender leg that peeked out from under the cover, disappearing among the layers leaving him only with the tantalising outline of her hip beneath. Her hair fanned out across her back and the pillow beyond, her face obscured by her arm. Gently, he stroked away a dark strand that hung across her face and tucked it away, his finger drawing a lingering caress around the curve of her ear. He had risen early to meditate before the long day ahead but could not bring himself to move and the sun was seeping through the window by the time he eventually rose.
"You going?" Nyota murmured, sitting up and blinking at him. Spock hesitated in the doorway.
"I am," he replied and watched as she shifted in the bed, shuffling forward on her knees and holding her arms to him.
"Kiss," she demanded sleepily. Spock turned back to her and bent his head to kiss her gently on the mouth. She sighed with contentment. "Anything exciting happening today?" she croaked.
Spock brushed her hair out of her eyes and blinked at her lazily. "Nothing of importance," he replied gently.
The red button did not illuminate when he summoned the elevator and after a minute he surmised that is was malfunctioning. He stared at the sealed doors and blinked slowly before turning and making his way down the stairs instead. When he stepped outside the temperature seemed, in his estimation, to be around three hundred Kelvin and the humidity was most disagreeable. His ears told him the air pressure had changed and clouds swirled portentously in the sky above. He placed his bag across his shoulder and made his way to the transit station, standing like a pillar of stone on the platform as he let his mind wander to the scene he had just left behind.
The morning progressed in an unexceptional manner and Spock performed his duties efficiently. In the afternoon it transpired that during routine maintenance of the long range sensor array, half the subroutines had been corrupted and Spock was enlisted to assist with the reprogramming. Having spent several hours on his back under a console in the basement, Spock returned late to his office where, in addition to the long list of tasks he had been unable to complete during the afternoon, a slew of messages awaited his attention. Glancing at his chronometer, he huffed out loud breath before extinguishing the lights and abandoning his desk in disarray.
On his way out of his office, Spock stopped at the facilities, washing his hands thoroughly and staring at his reflection in the mirror. He smoothed his palms across his hair and ran a damp fingertip across his brows. He tugged the hem of his jacket and brushed his palms across his shoulders before reaching to adjust his cuffs. He ran his fingertip over the fading scratch marks on the back of his hand for a moment and tugged his cuffs down as far as he could before making his way out.
As Spock exited the shuttle he stood in the doorway of the station as the sky rumbled and a heavy rain began to pound the earth. He loitered for a minute but on checking his chronometer his nostrils flared and he jogged along the street through the rain.
The Vulcan Consulate was housed in a handsome building surrounded by an elegant garden studded with ornate rocks and water features. His person was unexceptional amid the myriad faces of slanted brows and pointed ears but for his sodden appearance. At the desk he received due courtesy and having handed his bag to the porter, was escorted to wait on a covered veranda in a secluded corner of the building.
As he waited the sound of the rain was loud on the roof above and his eye was drawn to a small, fat robin that hopped on matchstick legs along a ledge beside him. He observed it curiously as it cocked its head at him before hopping on its way. He watched as it struggled to fly up the wall, attempting to reach a small ledge above. It dropped heavily back down to the ground, chirping as the air was forced out of its tiny lungs by the impact before fluttering up again and disappearing into a hole above.
"Spock."
He turned as the stiff figure of his father emerged onto the veranda a few metres away.
"Father," he replied. They made no other gesture of greeting and stood in silence for a long minute, the sound of water from the downpour gurgling into a drain beside them.
"Your mother asks me to convey her best wishes for your well being," Sarek said, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.
"Please thank her and return my best wishes," Spock replied. Sarek was silent for a long time before he spoke again.
"It is a rare occasion that my duties bring me to Earth. I have grown unaccustomed to the humidity," he commented, turning to look out across the garden and noting the moss that clung to the stones. "It is conducive to the proliferation of abundant flora."
"It is," Spock replied.
"It is a world of much diversity," Sarek continued. "And many diversions." Spock remained quiet, the drip drip of water from the roof above seeming much louder in the silence. "I trust that you have not abandoned the Vulcan way."
"I have not," Spock answered and Sarek turned, looking long and hard at his son. Spock was aware of an itch under his cuff but repressed the urge to scratch it.
"You are your mother's son," Sarek said, stepping closer. "It is logical that you should acquaint yourself with the customs of Earth but there are obligations on Vulcan to which you have made a commitment."
Spock hesitated. "I have not forgotten," he replied.
Spock walked back towards the station but did not hurry despite the driving rain. He stood in the crammed shuttle, water dripping off his ears and a scowl on on his face. By the time he reached home he was soaked to the bone. He entered the lobby and approached the elevator, his finger hovering over the button for just a second before he turned towards the stairs. Dutifully he trudged all the way to the top, his shoes squeaking on the tiles as he went.
"Oh my god Spock! You're soaking!" Nyota exclaimed, rising from her spot on the couch. Spock remained silent and took in her attire as he mopped his brow with the back of his hand. He admired the legs that peeked out from under his sweater as she disappeared into the bedroom and began to peel his jacket from his shoulders. Nyota reappeared a moment later bearing a towel and he allowed her to drop it on his head. She rubbed his hair vigorously and when she pulled the towel away his hair was sticking up in all directions. She grinned and Spock let out a tired sigh. "Crappy day huh?" she asked, helping him peel off his damp t-shirt. As she dropped it on the table Spock wrapped his arms around her.
"Disagreeable until now," he said and then he kissed her.