A/N: I felt in this addition of A/N, I'd take a moment to point out both here and in my once more updated Summery that this is certainly a Slow Grow fic. To everyone reading and following this fic, I am immensely grateful that you would have enough patience to lope though this with me. Usual 'no ownership of licensed characters/settings'.
Chapter 4: Speaking of Pillows
As James Kirk's anti-luck would have it, enzymes from the leaf he brushed against really did seep down to his skin and into his bloodstream through osmosis. Fortunately though he wasn't froth-mouthed or convulsing with spots and boils all over his body. He did however develop a blue tinted rash and consequently found himself within med-bay twice daily for a hypo and a lecture. Uhura would be lying to herself if she hadn't found humor in the irony of the situation. The sounds of soft jazz filled the room as Nyota curled in a plush chair. In her hands a language primer…ancient Vulcan, and for all her linguistic abilities, ancient Vulcan was damn hard. On several occasions Spock had seen her focusing on her project and had offered needed assistance-she didn't like to admit her Klingon was better than her Vulcan. After about the third hour the lieutenant had begun to lose focus, signaling to her that it was time to set Vulcan aside and head to bed. It was late. Standing up she'd give a deep stretch and a yawn before making her way to her beloved cotton sheets. Before she made it that far, the door alert sounded.
"Come in," the woman called, her voice just barely over the music. The door slid open mostly in silence, the caller stepping through. "Hey Spock," she grinned as she pulled off the oversized shirt she had been wearing. Tossing it on the bed, Nyota crossed the floor to Spock. When she had closed the distance, the Vulcan was already leaning in for the kiss Uhura would be looking for…and the one he enjoyed giving. "I almost didn't think you were coming tonight…it was starting to get late," she'd say as she sat down on the bed, a smile playing on her lips. "I apologize," was Spock's immediate response. "At the conclusion of our shift, I had gone to the labs in hopes of isolating a curative property that might relieve the Captain of his dermal inflammation. Though Doctor McCoy has been assisting my endeavor, we so far have been unsuccessful."
"Mmm-hmm," Nyota would murmur as she left the bed and stepped around to Spock's back, unfastening his shirt. "It must be bothering you…you've been at it for a week." With a single motion, Spock had liberated himself from his blue insignia over-shirt, folding it as he responded to Nyota's comment. "I admit to trace levels of frustration. The rash as I understand is at times painful for the Captain and though he attempts to conceal his discomfort, it is certainly apparent."
"You'll figure out something," Nyota replied encouragingly, taking Spock's shirt and placing it on a small nearby table. Spock in turn watched Nyota's retreating form, admiring the contours of her exposed back…thinking. In the next second, Nyota had returned, her eyes searching his face. "What is it? You've got 'that look'." Spock's obvious question was wordless, it could be read as easily as anything with that telling tilt of the head. "The look that says, 'something's on my mind'. Spill," she'd instruct as she climbed onto the bed once more, making sure to give her Vulcan the most generous view of her panty-covered derriere as possible. Spock merely stood in silence, whether he was formulating a response or 'taking it all in' was for Uhura to guess. As if to purchase himself more time, Spock would pull off his fitted black uniform undershirt. "Allow me to shower," he'd say at last. "I shall return shortly."
Must be serious', the woman thought to herself as the Vulcan disappeared, the shower starting moments after. In the meantime Uhura took to lounging on her back and staring to the ceiling, doing her best to not wonder what made Spock practically run away into the bathroom. In a few minutes though she'd have her answer as the water stopped. Uhura eyed him as he emerged, a bathing towel slung on his hips as he moved to a drawer he had been keeping fresh clothing in.
"Hey," she called out, stopping him. "Leave the towel, come as you are," Nyota would grin devilishly. In turn Spock offered his lover an obliging look, removing the towel and stowing it neatly to dry. Even now he held fast to neatness and order, a trait she hardly had issue with. When he finally drew near, Nyota reached out and lazily snagged Spock's wrist, half pulling him onto the bed. He'd roll onto his back quickly, Uhura removing the space between them while looking into his chestnut colored eyes. She'd rub her nose against his slightly before pressing into a kiss far more indulging than the first they had shared. Slipping a long leg over his abdomen, Nyota was soon straddling Spock as his hands slid up her back toward her shoulders where he would squeeze lightly.
"Nyota," Spock uttered in a substantially thicker voice after temporarily breaking their kiss. "Yeah?" It came more as a breath than a fully formed word. "I would like to talk to you about something." Another look into the Vulcan's warm eyes suggested that whatever he wanted to talk about right then mustn't have been all that bad; he had the barest hints of a smile on his smooth handsome face.
"I had been debating on when the optimal time to have this conversation would be, but as we are sharing an intimate moment…I believe now to be an ideal opportunity. Nyota, I immensely enjoy your companionship. With you, I have taken more effort to explore my emotional nature than I ever have throughout my life. You serve as an inspiration and remind me in your own gentle way that it is alright to feel. It is because of this I would like to share these thoughts with you." A hand moved to lightly caress the side of her cheek before letting it rest there. "My father had told me why he and my mother were together for as long as they were. His answer in all sensibility was rather simple, he loved her and was…in love with her." In seconds, Spock's other hand would join the first as he now cradled Uhura's face. "I have after some time, come to recognize that what I feel for you is something I desire to experience for the rest of my natural life." As her lover went on, Nyota, for all her skill in spoken language, still managed to find herself caught in a fog of sudden illiteracy. What was Spock say saying? Well, she knew what he was saying, she could hear him quite well, but it was what he seemed to be getting at…
No, no she couldn't jump to such far-fetched conclusions. It however, was now her turn to be the open book.
"I am in love with you Nyota and it is an emotion that has been steadily intensifying over the duration of our courtship." A pause. "I would like for you…to become my life-mate."
And there it was, the hammer drop. Uhura wasn't even aware that she had been holding her breath. It was only the pressure of burning lungs that reminded her to release and breathe in. Her mind was blown.
"I have given this proposal considerable thought before expressing it," Spock added hastily as Nyota had failed thus far to respond. "I wasn't sure if-"
"Yes Spock," Nyota would finally bleat, her voice half catching. "Yes, I will…oh my God, yes I will." She was damn near dizzy. For Spock there was most definitely an emotional surge, though he could not readily identify it. Joy, relief? Euphoria? Deep down in the metaphorical seat of Spock's soul, the little round-eared and wild-haired human inside of him was hosting a one man firework cavalcade. Perhaps it was more than reasonable to allow that side of him a bit of freedom and Spock-for likely the first time-came as close to a toothy grin as anyone would ever see. Jim would certainly approve.
Honestly he felt ridiculous. Cooped up in that small apartment for weeks, he could barely recognize himself when he finally set this latest plan into motion. He had grown facial hair and it was something he disliked a great deal. Given the meticulous care he reserved for his appearance, facial hair seemed unnecessary and provided an almost barbaric edge to what otherwise would be smooth clean lines. And it itched. Despite his prejudice against wearing whiskers, having them would reduce the ability to be swiftly recognized by those who happened to pass a cursory glance over him. He had also colored his hair and…haphazardly manicured goatee. Several shades lighter he had taken it, to a murky blonde; something to let him blend effortlessly into the background. He had also opted to get a temporary pigment change to his irises, a dull and homely brown. It wasn't much of a disguise given his noticeable features, but being in plain sight at all times was not his objective.
His clothing was as unassuming as he could make them; dark boots, trousers, a dark grey shirt and dusty windbreaker. They were more than ideal for the task as functionality was essential. The crossing signal illuminated and the super-human traversed the wide street and into the Starfleet Headquarters promenade. In another quarter hour, activities would be winding down for the night. Most non-essential personnel had already departed and shifts were changing, giving Khan just enough window to slip in without garnering attention. Locating a small electrical closet on the third floor of the flagship building, he'd close himself in and wait until the Headquarters settled into light sleep. Pulling the small pack from his shoulders, he took from it a P.A.D.D. to confirm again his route and location of surveillance cameras along the plotted course. As much as it would please him to blast into the place, collect his people and leave all of San Francisco a smoldering crater, patience and stealth was essential for maximizing his success. He examined the clock on his P.A.D.D. Six hours he was to be sequestered in that warm 4x6 closet. For all his preparation and attention to detail, this certainly would be a long six hours.
A/N: I hope I didn't muddle this chapter too much. I promise it'll get interesting eventually as I continue to mold summery information to better fit the developing mood of the story. Thanks for reading! Constructive critiques breed improvements for your enjoyment!