Disclaimers and Warnings in Part One.

~Part Three of Six: 1810 Hours, Sunday~

The Italian restaurant Spock had chosen was a block away from the hotel. Even though it was fairly busy, the instant I walked into the restaurant, I heard Boris' voice rising above all of the other conversations. Following it, I found the table occupied by my teammates and my…..

Commander. Tutor. Friend. Lover.

All of the above.

I hope.

It was a long rectangular table with Tomas, Niobe's MIT dance partner, Niobe, Boris and Spock on one side and Jenka and Et'Bet and two empty chairs on the other. Et'Bet was whispering in Jenka's ear and they were practically sitting in one another's lap. Niobe and her friend were debating with Boris. Spock was staring at the menu like he was trying to memorize it, even though he probably already had.

He was the only one in uniform and the black material clung to the muscles in his shoulders and chest. The low lighting of the restaurant picked up gleaming highlights in his hair, and laid shadows across his face that threw his extraordinary bone structure into high relief. I looked down to where his hands were clutched around the energized paper.

I was suddenly flooded with memories the afternoon, of touching and tasting, of limbs intertwined as we enjoyed each other.

My knees went a little weak and I whimpered faintly; he heard and his head came up and his eyes coursed across my body.

His nostrils flared and his fingers tightened on the menu. I raised my eyebrows at him. His eyes raked my body again, then he met my eyes and very slowly, very deliberately he raised one perfect, glossy eyebrow.

It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen him do.

Clothed.

If I pass out right now, would he give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?

"Nyota!" Jenka said, finally noticing me, too, "We didn't order yet – we were waiting for you."

I tore my eyes away from Spock and looked at my teammate. "Sorry I'm late and thanks and good evening, everybody," I said, finding the strength in my watery legs to walk to the table and sit in the empty chair opposite Spock, his eyes were already back to the menu. I took a deep drink from a glass of water waiting for me.

Et'Bet smiled. "Are you feeling better? Commander Spock was telling us you had a rough day."

I choked; Spock's head came up. "Those were not my exact words, Cadet."

"But it does express what you meant, Sir," Jenka said, instantly defending his girlfriend.

"Perhaps." Spock met my eyes, then dropped his gaze to the menu again.

The waiter arrived and took orders. I made very sure to order something without garlic or onions. I didn't want to have bad breath for Spock.

If he decided to come back to my room after dinner.

Which I really, really want him to do.

Niobe introduced me to her friend and he shook my hand politely, congratulating me on my gold rating and my team's victory.

"Of course Nyota did well," Et'Bet said around a mouthful of bread. "The Commander tutored her personally. Pair that with her own exceptional talents and she had to do well."

"Cadet Uhura's own skills were much more instrumental in her performance at the Invitational than my work with her," Spock said quietly.

"Still," Tomas, said, "It would've been great to have one-on-one preparation. MIT doesn't put as much emphasis on the language side of communications as it does on the hardware side."

"MIT sucks," Boris said, not quite sotto voce.

Niobe punched his arm lightly. "Briggs I warned you. Behave or I'm going to do everything within my power to assign you to Professor Heprin as his TA for Advanced Andorian next term; he sprays when he speaks Andorian."

Boris curled his lip. "I'll be good Nio, I promise."

"Professor Heprin is a competent instructor," Spock said.

"Yes, Sir, I didn't mean any offense," Niobe stammered.

I dropped my head and looked at him. He was staring at Niobe and Boris implacably, but I could see the slight tenseness around his eyes. He was acting like the professor and professional he was.

It was extremely appealing.

Why did he say we'd meet them for dinner? Why aren't we in my room feasting on each other, instead?

"Nyota, are you okay?" Et'Bet asked.

I pulled out of a fevered vision and met her eyes. "What?"

"You're sweating and your hand is shaking," she said. "Have you recovered from your bender?"

From the alcohol bender, yes; from the Spock bender, never.

"I'm fine," I said, reaching forward and grabbing a piece of bread.

"So what'd you do today?" Boris asked, looking between Spock and me.

Had sweaty, steamy, endless sex with the man sitting beside you.

"Slept," I replied just as Spock said, "Rested."

Oh no, that's not at all suspicious.

But it didn't seem that anyone else thought so. Boris immediately proceeded to tell us about the day he'd spent touring the University and meeting various women, all of whom seemed to find him inordinately adorable.

I'd heard variations of the same story for almost two years. I tuned him out and slid my foot out and up the leg opposite mine. I looked at Spock under lowered lashes. He was good - really, really good. He was listening to Boris without blinking an eyelash. I began to make small, tight circles on his leg.

Nothing.

Boris' voice cut off and I glanced at him. His face was bright red.

Damn it!

I dropped my foot, "Sorry, Boris. I was just stretching."

Spock met my eyes; his lips thinned. I looked at the tablecloth and started to try to count the threads.

Niobe and her date engaged Boris in a conversation about one of the Invitational tasks. Spock began staring at a spot on the wall somewhere over my head. Et'Bet leaned over to me.

"Jenka and I are going to see the street performers after dinner. Do you want to come with us?"

"Uh," I said, trying not to glance at Spock. "I'm not sure what I'm doing yet."

"As I left the hotel this evening, the concierge recommended viewing the performances," Spock said. When I slid my eyes to him he was looking at Jenka and Et'Bet. "He stated that the fire masters were particularly skilled. I had planned on going after dinner."

He'd made plans?

Plans that did not include eating as quickly as possible and getting back to my hotel room?

"That's three, Nyota, you're coming, right?"

"Sure," I said, looking at Spock. His expression was flat; his gaze directed at the area above Et'Bet's head.

I bit back a sigh and focused on the other members of our group. "What about you guys?" I leaned across the table and tapped the back of Boris' hand with my fork.

As I sat back down I noticed that Spock's eyes were on the cut-out between my breasts.

My outlook brightened considerably.

Boris broke off his conversation and mumbled something that sounded amazingly like "I have a date."

"I'm sorry," I said, "But my exceptional aural sensitivity seems to have failed me. I thought you said you have a date."

"I do," he mumbled into his glass.

Everyone except Spock stared at him in open astonishment.

It wasn't that he was unattractive; just that he was completely exhausting to be around for more than ten minutes at a time.

"With who?" Niobe demanded.

"Someone I met today while the rest of you were cocooning," he said a little defiantly.

How had he found out? How could be telling everyone at the table? Oh God, we're going to have to live on Vulcan doing translations for five credits a page.

We're never getting assigned to The Enterprise.

Spock was completely unfazed; I continued with my panic attack. Niobe must've kicked Boris under the table, because he jumped, his mouth fell open and his pale skin flushed scarlet. "Oh Sir, I didn't mean you, of course. Or Nyota. I meant them." He gestured to the rest of the table.

Spock ignored the apology, just as he had the earlier comment; I attempted to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation on myself without anyone noticing.

Boris, his foot now removed from his mouth, returned to the subject of his date. "Anyway, she's very nice and we're going to meet after dinner." He took a sip of water and began to crane his head. "And where is our dinner? It's taking a long time. Nyota, don't you think its taking a long time?"

I opened my mouth, not sure if my heart was properly working yet.

Boris, as was his wont, responded to his own question. "You know, I'm going to find out what's going on. I'll be right back." He fumbled to his feet and headed towards what I assumed was the kitchen.

I finished my glass of water and prayed for dinner to be over.