A/N: It's been a year and one day since I posted what I thought was a one-shot. How far I've come in that short time!

In the spirit of the Thanksgiving weekend, let me thank all the people without whom this chapter couldn't have been what it is. As always, I couldn't have done it without my fabulous beta Paula (vampirealchemist13)! I'd also like to thank Roy, Connor, Dave, Betsy, Ryan, and Leo for helping with the body of this and Tony and Rotem for helping me edit the Vulcan erotic poem! It took a village to raise this child, folks.

This chapter has some Nyota/Gaila femslash, if you squint, but if that's not your sort of thing, it can be taken as close friendship. Up to you!

School is about to eat me, so the next one might be a few weeks, but I promise it'll be worth it! We're halfway through now.

Posted: 11/27/11

Last edited: 12/31/11


Winter break had begun in earnest, and Nyota and Gaila were both staying at Starfleet Academy. For Gaila, The Academy was home base for all social and sexual operations. While Nyota's home would always be Nairobi, her research was here, and the sub-orbital out of Africa would be a nightmare commute during the holiday season. She didn't celebrate Christmas like some of the other cadets did, so there was no reason not to wait a couple of months to spend a weekend at home. She couldn't bring herself to leave right now, just when her research was picking up.

Gaila was all a-flutter. "Ny, you have to wear something cute today!" she insisted, already engaged in a full-scale invasion of Nyota's closet. "Sorel is going to ask you to dinner any day now."

Today was Thursday, and Nyota had planned to meet with Sorel again. Spock had a faculty meeting this morning, so rather than translating ancient Vulcan poetry at Mira's, Nyota had invited the Romulan to the lab. She tried not to think about why she was so intent on keeping the two Vulcanoids apart. "If he's certain to ask me out anyway, it doesn't matter if I dress up today, does it?" She smirked, content to watch Gaila in her element.

"Like I always say: you should never underestimate the power of a little cleavage on humanoid men-" Gaila giggled. "-or women of the right persuasion." She turned from haphazardly searching through Nyota's closet to give her an endearing grin.

"You say a lot of things, Gay." Nyota shook her head with a laugh, rising to join Gaila in the search.


My eyes thirst for you
Your cheeks, flushed and glistening
Your lips, swollen with desire
And as I drink your beauty like wine, you are a stream flowing through my parched desert.

"That's only the first stanza," Nyota murmured, stunned. She and Sorel had spent the past two hours translating several Old High Vulcan poems into Low Romulan, a surprisingly closely related language with which Nyota was more familiar. This was the first poem that was blatantly erotic.

"Emotions run deeply in the Vulcan race," Sorel commented.

Nyota raised an eyebrow. "This poem was written millennia ago. Aren't modern Vulcans above such things as lust?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt a twinge of guilt. It was speciesist of her, and she should know better - but the notion of lustful Vulcans sent her mind down a tempting and unwise path.

"Miss Uhura," Sorel said with his trademark smirk, "I think you'll find that Vulcans and Romulans share more in common than pointy ears and similar linguistic roots - even if Vulcans would never acknowledge it."

A wave of dangerous curiosity made her belly tighten.

A few minutes later, Sorel and Nyota had translated the second stanza, and Sorel read aloud in Romulan.

"My skin hums for you
Your legs like li'pon, dark and strong
Your hips curved and smooth as a lyre
Your elegant back, strung tightly with need"

Nyota tried not to let her imagination run wild with thoughts of long Vulcan fingers.

Sorel read on: "I pluck cries from you with my body; my hands play music down your sides - isn't that exquisite?"

Nyota's mouth was too dry to speak, so she merely nodded and took a gulp of lukewarm tea. Spock's entrance did not help her to restrain her imagination.

"Commander Spock," Sorel greeted. "I hope the meeting went well."

"Indeed it did," Spock said tersely, staring coldly at Sorel. The second hand on the wall clock ticked sharply as Nyota watched the two men.

Finally, Sorel cleared his throat, breaking the stalemate. "Miss Uhura." He rose from his seat at the table. "Why don't we pick this up later? I don't want to take up more of your time this morning."

"So soon?" Nyota asked, both disappointed to see him go and relieved that she didn't have to endure more of this uncomfortable atmosphere.

"I'm afraid so." He gave a tight, lopsided smile.

She rose to walk him out of the lab, feeling a surge of warmth. "Thank you, Sorel."

"Perhaps you can thank me with your company this evening. If you're free?"

Nyota glanced at Spock, who was apparently deeply engrossed in pressing matters on his PADD. She felt a stab of something she didn't want to name. "What did you have in mind?"

"Dinner, seven, at Fondue Cowboy?" He tossed her a grin.

Sorel was easily as physically attractive as Spock was, and he liked her. She enjoyed his company. Why shouldn't she go out with him? After all, she had worn this outfit at Gaila's insistence in order to encourage him to ask exactly this question.

Realizing she still hadn't responded, she offered a smile. "Okay."

After Sorel left, a cautious glance at Spock revealed that he was impassively reading his emails at his desk monitor. She began cataloguing the translations, waiting for him to speak.

"I was correct in my suspicion of the Romulan's romantic interest," Spock said finally.

He had been paying attention. Why would he pretend otherwise? "You dislike him," she accused.

"I do not dislike him, Cadet," he said calmly. "I have no opinion regarding him."

Nyota snorted at the obvious lie. It was clear to her that Spock was still annoyed about her evening at the Stardust, which was ridiculous. She shut down her PADD, leveling an unseen glare at him. "I'm gonna grab some lunch," she said, watching for a reaction from him.

Spock said nothing, and if he was put out at her tone, he didn't show it.

His silence hurt more than it should have.


Nyota stared into her mocha, Mira across from her. "I tried to convince myself that it was just a harmless crush," she murmured numbly. She couldn't remember when her feelings had progressed past harmless, but she was far past that now.

"Feh!" Mira scoffed. Nyota looked up in surprise. "A girl like you? If he doesn't love you back, he's not human."

Mira had an uncanny ability to cut to the heart of things.

Nyota was in love with Spock. She had never allowed herself to think that word before now, but what other word could there be?

Sexy, funny, brilliant Spock: half-Vulcan and completely Vulcan, and human when you least expected. He was impossible to pin down, impossible to define.

And because of who he was, he didn't love her back. Couldn't love her back. It wasn't in his nature.

Mira touched her arm, and Nyota covered the older woman's hand with her own. "There are plenty of stars in the sky," Mira said softly.

Nyota closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry.


That night at Fondue Cowboy, conversation came more easily than she'd expected. Sorel made her laugh, and the wine was smooth.

She did not allow herself to think of Spock. Sorel brought up jazz, and she held back an anecdote about improvisation on the Vulcan lyre. They discovered a shared fondness for sweet potatoes; she did not ask if he had ever tried plomeek soup.

After dinner Sorel suggested they try the balsamic strawberry ice cream at Tosci's a few blocks away, and Nyota obliged him. Waffle cones in hand, they explored a secluded area of a nearby park, a small garden filled with non-Terran plants. Nyota bent to smell a luminescent Cardassian Star Lace, and when she stood, Sorel's eyes were on her.

My eyes thirst for you

They held hands on the walk back. A few meters away from her dormitory, she tugged them to a stop on a quiet sidewalk nestled between two old academic buildings.

A moment of tension hung in the air.

Sorel stepped forward, backing Nyota against the concrete. Slowly he brought their joined hands up to the back of her neck, pressing his thumb into her palm and threading his fingers into her hair. With his other hand he cupped her jaw. Then, deliberately, he tilted her chin up to press a raw kiss on her lips.

Nyota squeezed her eyes shut and yanked him closer. He grasped her hip, his fingers biting her flesh, and then his hands slid up her ribcage as he kissed from her mouth along her jaw to her neck.

With her free hand, she brushed the tip of his ear, and in response his fingers closed around the bare skin of her arm.

Long fingers, hot and strong...

She stiffened and her eyes flew open. Sorel pulled away to check on her and raised his left eyebrow in a silent question.

She had a sudden need to be far away from hot skin and pointed ears and upswept eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," she said hurriedly in Standard. And then, in Vulcan, "I will see you tomorrow."


Gaila could barely contain herself. "Oh my GODS. You smell like fox again! You know you could have kicked me out, right?"

When Nyota didn't respond, Gaila frowned. "Ny, what's wrong?"

"Gaila… what am I doing?" She slipped off her heels.

"What do you mean? Sorel is sexy, and you smell like you like him, and he has delicious pointy ears."

"Not Sorel. Spock." She peeled her sweater over her head and unzipped her skirt. "I can't be around him, Gaila."

"What do you mean?" Gaila asked, confused. She sat up on her knees on the bed.

Nyota went to her dresser, trying to keep herself in check. "Have you seen my pajamas?" she asked a little desperately, suddenly needing to focus on something practical and uncomplicated. "Because it's colder tonight, and I think maybe I dropped them into the laundry receptacle this morning by accident."

"Spock's your friend, right?" Gaila pressed on, coming to help look. "Which thing are we? I still get confused sometimes about which labels involve monogamy and which involve mating."

Nyota flung aside bras and camisoles, feeling the pressure build in her throat, her nostrils flaring.

"Friends are what Terrans call people who love each other but don't pair-bond, right?"

An almost silent sob escaped, but Gaila noticed. "Leaflet!" She was there immediately. She guided Nyota over to sit on her bed, kissing her softly on the lips before going to her own closet and returning with a pair of lavender silk pajamas. "I wear these when I don't have boys over," she said, setting them down and scooping Nyota into a hug.

"When do you not have boys over?" Nyota joked through tears. She buried her face in red curls.

Gaila stroked her hair, humming an Orion lullaby, and Nyota was wrapped in the scents of grapefruit, vanilla, and freshly cut grass.


A/N: Reviews are how I get paid, and I appreciate them more than I can tell you! I reply to every one of them - no matter how busy I get. :-)