A/N: This story has been posted on AO3 since 2016, but I decided it was time to start migrating my fics that are over there to join those here, and vice versa, to be less confusing to readers.
Let me start with the rating. It isn't really "mature" as the general internet populous would define the term, but it IS in fact "mature." I wouldn't want teens reading it. I care greatly about the integrity of young people's minds. So, all y'all teens out there reading, my message to you would just be to always make the more cautious choice. You'll be glad you did in the long run. Take it from someone who didn't choose cautiously in their youth.
That said, this is a DIRECT SEQUEL to The Logical Thing and you MUST read that first in order to understand this one. This story didn't go at all the way I planned it which is awesome, and I think it's better for it. I hope to make this into a series. Enjoy!
The Human Thing
Amanda was the first to wake. She blinked several times to focus her vision and gradually became aware of well-defined Vulcan collarbones, mere inches from her face. Her eyes froze open upon the sight as she remembered—she was married.
The sudden awareness of being pressed naked into another body turned her skin to gooseflesh, and her heart began beating wildly. She stiffened from head to toe as she realized the extent of the contact—legs intertwined, midsections sharing warmth, firm fingertips grazing her back, and her own fingertips tangled in the dark hair of her husband's chest.
The strong arms that held her began to shift, and she realized that her sudden rigidity must have roused her new husband. She held perfectly still, barely breathing, and hoping he couldn't hear the pounding of her heart in the silent room. But when she glanced upward she saw the telltale pinching of his eyes as he began his return to consciousness. And then his hands slowly felt up her back to hold her shoulders.
She watched as he opened his eyes and stared over her head at the chair where their discarded clothes lay, and a look of perplexity crossed his features. Then, embarrassed realization, followed by jaded acceptance.
Her heart sank.
He looked down at her with an appraising eye, and she held her features so still that she almost stopped breathing. He took a deep breath and sighed, his face relaxing into its usual repose, the momentary glimpses of his thoughts erased from his countenance.
"I hope...I have not hurt you," he said slowly. As he spoke, his thumbs turned in slow circles over her shoulders.
"No," she said, her voice sounding just above a whisper.
He looked hesitant then, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. But before he could Amanda shivered, and his gaze was drawn to the goosebumps covering her arms and shoulders.
"Are you cold?" he asked with a surprised raise of his brow.
"Y-yes," she stuttered, not sure if she should tell him it was just from shock. In actuality the many blankets, the bed itself, and...Sarek, were keeping her warmer than was comfortable.
Sarek seemed to be considering her answer for veracity, but then he pulled the blankets up over her shoulders and to her surprise, pulled her closer to him. Her heart beat faster at the increased contact, and she tried to calm herself down.
She had time, because Sarek didn't speak again. When she glanced at his face he seemed to be staring at nothing, lost in thought. His eyes betrayed an intense focus. She desperately wanted to know what was in his mind, but even as his wife she didn't think it was appropriate to ask a Vulcan for his innermost thoughts.
Her heart rate was beginning to normalize, and her fingers moved involuntarily against his chest almost as his thumbs seemed to turn over her shoulders. She wanted to talk to him, to help the situation feel more normal.
"Are you...all right, now?" she asked tentatively.
He looked back at her almost as if he had forgotten her presence. "Oh, yes. Quite well. Our logic returns to us immediately after the balance of our body chemistry is restored."
She couldn't think of anything to say, so remained silent. Now that her heart was calming and the shock dissipating, she was becoming rapidly aware of and uncomfortable with the heat. But she didn't dare move—not until Sarek did first.
"Amanda," he began, and she met his curious gaze. "You do not seem yourself."
What did you expect? she wanted to ask, but didn't. His thumbs abruptly halted their movements on her shoulders and his expression changed. He looked almost startled, as much as Vulcan can look without moving so much as an eyebrow.
"You are bothered by something?" he asked, and she was startled at his perception. And then suddenly, she realized.
"Did you read my mind?" she asked, stunned.
Sarek looked appropriately contrite. "Forgive me..." he said, "your thoughts are...louder, than before we—"
He stopped abruptly, and Amanda's cheeks colored. She knew of course that Vulcans were touch-telepaths, but if Sarek had ever read her mind before she wasn't aware of it.
"It's all right," she answered after a moment, to cover the awkward situation. She realized then that no thought she had would ever be secret from her husband. And she didn't know what to think about that.
"Amanda," he said, his tone the closest thing to mortified a Vulcan could produce, "I would never invade your private thoughts."
"Then what are you doing now?" she said without thinking, and immediately he retreated, putting space between their bodies, though his arms still held her.
She gasped, finding she preferred the contact than to not have it, and couldn't help it as tears began filling her eyes. She also could not pull her gaze away from his, and found that he looked as lost as she had ever seen him.
"Perhaps if I explained more about Vulcan marriage," he said smoothly, his voice not at all matching the disquiet in his eyes.
Her hands, now empty on the bedsheets felt over to his arm where she gently held on for her own emotional support.
"Vulcans are psychically bonded to their mates at only seven years of age," he continued. "In this way they are never truly apart even when separated by great distances. And through this bond, it is common to communicate telepathically."
Amanda didn't find the information surprising, and if it was his offer of excuse as to repeatedly reading her mind it made sense as well, if it was the Vulcan custom. She glanced away at his shoulder as she wondered how she would feel about him always knowing her thoughts. And then she realized—it wasn't that he could read her mind, but that she couldn't read his that bothered her so much. It was as being a specimen under a microscope, with no power to help herself.
She suddenly realized Sarek wasn't speaking, only watching her, and she wondered if he was reading her mind again. Though humans weren't remotely telepathic, she tried thinking a question at him. But nothing on his face indicated he was reading her mind.
"I...understand," she finally said, and a flicker in his eyes seemed to show a return to calm. "I only wish that I could read your thoughts."
Sarek looked mildly startled, almost guarded, at the suggestion. But then one of his eyebrows rose as something—which of course she could not read—apparently occurred to him.
"I wish you could, as well. It is unfortunate you are not a Vulcan," he said. It was the first time he had ever said anything of that nature, and Amanda wondered if he truly wished she were.
"Do you...require additional rest?" he changed the subject, and Amanda wondered at his seeming uncertainty. She wondered what their conversation would be like if she were in fact a Vulcan wife.
"I...don't think so," she said, considering.
"Then forgive me," he said, and began to sit up and she realized he was making to rise. "In my...urgency of earlier, I failed to lay out my dressing robes."
Heart pounding, she closed her eyes tightly and felt him rise from the bed. She couldn't help but take a tiny peek when she heard the closet door open, but the glimpse she caught only made her close her eyes again. She knew she shouldn't be embarrassed to see her husband undressed, but, they couldn't have been married more than a few hours now. Time would temper the emotion.
The sounds of rustling clothing stilled and she opened her eyes to find Sarek consulting a chronometer. This surprised her, as Vulcans always knew what time it was. Perhaps the 'blood fever' Sarek had described had lasting side effects that he hadn't told her about.
"It is a bit early to dine, but if you wish we can do so, considering we did not take a midday meal."
She realized suddenly that she was hungry, and a moment later that the only clothing she had with her were her comfortable lounge clothes that she had been married in.
"I think...I would like a shower, first," she said after some thought.
Sarek, now clad in the Vulcan version of a dressing gown or bathrobe which left his chest exposed, walked back past the bed and toward the washroom.
"Everything here is at your disposal," he said with a gentle gesture, opening the old-fashioned door.
"And...I'm going to need something else to wear," she said as she sat up, holding the blankets tight to her chest.
"I can have Soran bring something of your choice here?" Sarek asked, crossing this time to the comm by the bedroom door which Amanda noticed was standing open.
She began to feel exposed again and curled her knees up to her chest. She also wasn't keen on the idea of Soran going through all of her things, though she knew logically that the Vulcan diplomatic aide was probably the person she needed to worry about the least in her room. Her old room, she realized.
"All right," she agreed, resting her chin atop her knees and letting her eyes fall on her old gray skirt.
"What items should I have him bring?"
"Well...where will we be dining?"
Sarek raised a single eyebrow. "I have not given the matter thought. You may choose, Amanda."
Something about the way he said her name caused her to look back at him, but his face was as stoic as ever. She wished again that she could read his thoughts and wondered how much control he had in when he did and didn't read hers.
"Perhaps...'Chart House?'" she said without thinking, and then her hand flew to her mouth as she realized. "Oh! I'm sorry Sarek, I don't know why I said that."
Sarek peered at her for a long moment, and Amanda had the impression that he wanted to read her mind. But she knew he would be true to his word, and so hurriedly enlightened him.
"It's that...well, it is my— our wedding ni— day, and...I thought a place that's more..." her words died as tears began to fill her eyes again. She had never been so inarticulate in front of Sarek. And to suggest a seafood restaurant was a mistake she hadn't made since their first date.
Sarek placed his fingertips together in front of his midsection, seemingly unaware of her mortification. "Humans...place a great deal of importance on the concept of 'first,'" he said matter-of-factly.
Amanda blinked her tears away as she peered at him.
"The first meal together as husband and wife, the consummation of marriage," he offered as examples. "I recall you using the phrase 'first date' more than once when describing your past suitors. And when your mother shows me photo albums of your childhood she vividly describes your 'first tooth,' your 'first dance,' your 'first writing award.'"
She blushed, but nodded slightly. "Yes, I suppose it is a human custom."
"Then...if you would like to mark our 'first meal' as husband and wife, of course you may select a place that you feel will make the event significant."
Amanda thought very humanly that it was already significant in itself, and then laid her head on her knees again. She had no idea where she wanted to eat now.
"I suppose...I need more time to think about it," she said after a moment.
"As you wish," Sarek replied. "Should you require me for anything, I shall be on the balcony."
"Okay," she replied, straightening and smoothing the blankets around her. She suddenly felt as she had years ago when she wasn't sure of anything she did in his presence.
He inclined his head slightly, and exited through the open bedroom door. His footsteps grew silent in just a moment, and she couldn't even hear the glass doors opening to the balcony in the other room.
She waited another minute, her heart beating more rapidly now she was alone and her thoughts more free. And also more unchecked.
She was sitting in Sarek's bed. Her bed. But Sarek's bed. And she was his wife, in every sense of the word.
A shiver ran over her body at the recent memory. His hands tightly holding hers, his body strong and experienced, his kisses hot and ravenous...
She slid silently out from under the blankets and on tiptoes hurried to the chair to grab her clothes. Just as quickly she tiptoed into the washroom and closing the door behind her was dismayed to find no lock. She reasoned that Sarek would not interrupt her shower, but even if he did it was okay because he was her husband. Unfortunately neither thought was comforting.
She had never been in his private washroom before and clutching her clothes to her body she allowed herself to calm down enough to take it in. Just as the rest of his quarters, the room was a mixture of Vulcan simplicity and elegance, with a touch of human influence. There were two sinks set into a rosy-colored stone countertop. The wall above was all mirror, and the wall adjacent was one large window offering a view of the distant Golden Gate bridge. Below the window was a large bathtub and to its right, a shower and a toilet.
It was a bright and welcome contrast to the drab apartment she had been living in, and she felt a bit more herself as she laid down her clothes and stepped into the shower. She chose the water function over the experimental sonic function—only the best in the Vulcan ambassador's quarters—and it was instantly warm. Also unlike her apartment.
As the pulsing droplets washed over her, she became truly aware of her body for the first time since waking. It felt different. More exposed, and yet more private at the same time. Almost hurting in some ways, but somehow wise in others.
A sudden desire to be held by Sarek washed over her and his absence made her feel cold, despite the warmth of the shower. She closed her eyes tightly as dizziness overtook her and she crouched down to keep from fainting.
Tears filled her eyes as shock once again dominated her being.
She was married. What had she done?
Sarek was accustomed to the moist saltiness of the Sausalito air, but when he was honest with himself he knew he preferred the aridity of ShirKahr. The breeze that blew his hair and gown seemed thick and cool, and after four years he still was not accustomed to it.
He stood on his balcony, leaning on the guardrail and looking down at the architecture below. The stairs of the embassy were designed with a remarkable symmetry, and he wondered not for the first time if a Vulcan architect had been consulted when the foundations of the building were first laid.
People passed over the walkways below with monotonous slowness. Occasionally some would pause on the steps to meet, but eventually they moved on about their business whether it was within the embassy or without. At times Sarek had made a study of them and could almost tell what species he was observing by the way they walked and greeted others. But now they passed through his vision barely noticed as his mind moved with an equal lack of focus over the changes he must make in his life.
A marriage meant he would have to adapt aspects of his daily living. Assuming of course that Amanda wanted to be married to him.
That thought came unbidden, and Sarek was surprised by a brief sensation of vertigo as he gave the idea presence. He stepped back from the balcony and looked up to the sun-lit Golden Gate bridge to re-center himself.
What if now that his life was no longer in danger, Amanda wished their association to remain as it always had? Would the illogical manner of Vulcan biology change her attitudes and opinions about him? About other Vulcans?
He realized that due to the plak-tow he hadn't truly laid before her what a Vulcan marriage, and marriage to him specifically, would mean. They had already encountered the first difficulty in his inherent telepathy and her complete lack of the ability. And as he thought about it, he knew that it would not be in her best interests to stay with him. The cultural differences were already occasionally straining on their association. And truly, he did not have experience in being married. That as well would create difficulty for her.
As he pondered the obvious selfishness of his choice he heard distantly the sound of his shower switching off. He decided that when she emerged he would tell her that if it was not her desire to be married that he would hold her to no obligation. He should not have even asked her in the first place.
He closed his eyes and worked to bury the slight emotions that crept into his thoughts, no doubt due to the recent blood fever and subsequent drain on his mental controls. He would meditate when Amanda left to purge them fully, but for now they were slight enough to just be kept hidden. He wouldn't be required for any ambassadorial work that evening anyway.
At the sound of soft, familiar footsteps he opened his eyes and slowly turned.
The salty breeze blew Amanda's skirt, her robe, and her hair...
He found that his earlier claim to her of 'being all right' was in error, as her gentle and sincere beauty took his breath away. He looked down for a moment and forced away the beginnings of multiple differing emotions in order to say to her what he must.
When he looked up, she was several steps closer. Her eyes were more full of emotion than he had ever seen, but the rest of her bearing was the same calm and stolidity that had intrigued him for years.
"I thought about it..." she said, and he required almost a full second to recall what she was talking about. "And I think it would be best to have dinner in one of the embassy's restaurants."
Sarek wondered at her reasoning, but per his promise did not reach out for her thoughts. However she seemed to understand that he wanted an explanation and so offered one.
"It will give me time to arrange for my things to be moved here, and more time to rest."
His eyes, which had been wandering along her wind-blown curls, now snapped to her face. Had she been untruthful before when she said he hadn't hurt her?
"Sarek," she said, before he could speak. She took a step closer. "I know it...really isn't what Vulcans do, but..."
She looked down, and Sarek raised his brow curiously.
"May I...hug you?"
His lips parted in slight surprise. He remembered years ago when she had demonstrated a proclivity to cling to his arm how embarrassed and apologetic she had been when he explained to her that Vulcans do not touch others casually. She had touched him all of four times since then, including their recent...encounter, and had never expressed any desire to do so.
Now as he looked at her she looked as if she might cry again, and he wished that he could see into her mind to know what she was feeling. She could not eliminate her human emotions, but she had never cried so much before in his experiences with her. It was perplexing and disquieting.
"Humans..." she continued softly when he didn't answer, "use touch...when they need something."
"What is it you need?" he asked, even more softly, his voice barely audible over the increasing winds.
She looked up at him. "I'm not sure."
There was truth in her words, and though her voice was steady and her bearing strong, he had the distinct impression that if he refused she might crumble and disappear on the breeze. For a split second he considered it, just to see how she as a human would face the situation. But just as quickly he shook himself of the cruel thought and let his hands fall from where they were clasped to his sides.
She rushed forward and held him tightly, burying her face in his chest. Most of her face was in the soft fabric, but one tear-filled eye had landed where his robe was open, and the hot moisture felt odd against his skin.
"Amanda..."
She didn't look up. He drew in a long breath.
"In my unsettled state of mind...due to the blood fever," he began, "I now realize that it was a...selfish action on my part to involve you in...my situation. My continued existence is not worth the sacrifice you have made."
With a gasp, she looked up at him, confusion in her eyes.
"On Vulcan, we have people who choose this task, who are intimately acquainted with our culture and enter into any marriage regardless of personal cost. I regretfully admit that there are flaws within myself that caused me to refrain from arranging such a situation despite knowing that it would be inevitable. My failure should not be the ruin of your life."
Amanda's tears had stopped as she looked at him and her face was morphing into the stoic, unreadable mask that he was so familiar with. It allowed him to speak more easily.
"Therefore, I will not require you to remain with me. And I apologize for the failure in my logic that has brought you into this unfortunate state. I will make any and all reparations you desire."
She didn't speak, merely looked at him. Her eyes slightly narrowed now, and calculating. He knew this to be a sign of her mind working in its most logical manner. She would no doubt arrive at the same conclusions he had.
As she still held him, albeit less firmly, he could feel her breathing and heart rate normalizing as he awaited her answer. He realized then that his breathing and pulse remained elevated, and wondered why.
"Sarek," she finally said. Her voice now for the first time since he had proposed marriage had returned to its cool and calm velvet textures. "I know it isn't logical," she continued, shaking her head slightly, her eyes still narrowed on his, "but...I love you."
Sarek felt his pulse rise further as he stared at her, approximately four percent. A tension he didn't realize he'd held in his shoulders began to relax, as did his breathing.
He wondered at these changes and was about to analyze them, when she suddenly undermined the effort by lifting one of her hands to hold him behind his neck. The tension returned and his respiration increased, approximately... Before he could question the purpose of her action, she rose up on her toes and kissed him.
He blinked without focus at her face, at her dark eyelashes brushing her soft skin, at the curls of her hair still blowing around them.
Logically... he thought, as he brought his hands up from his sides to hold her, one hand weaving its way into her hair. He began kissing her back, though unorthodox...this is an effective means of giving answer.
Storm clouds rolled in over the bay, darkening the sky as the cold winds whipped around them.