Did I say rest of the evening? That's not entirely accurate.

Let's rewind.

Spock's hands were cradling my back carefully as his soft, somewhat foreign, lips moved against mine; I recalled countless moments of our time together, and how they all lead up to this moment, this perfect moment between us. My hand softly traced circles on the back of his neck, and I could hear his heavy breathing as our kiss increased in intensity. Normally, I would be worried or sheepish about this blatant display of affection for several reasons; countless people surrounded us, some of them crew members. He was a senior officer- my commanding officer. What even are we now? A fling, a relationship, or a careless hookup we can blame on the festivities? I tried to work it out in my head but it made no sense; I couldn't picture Spock involved in any of those things; it just wasn't him.

Suddenly, his gripped tightened forcefully against my hips, pulling me closer to his warm body, taking me by surprise- that was uncharacteristic for him, even I could tell. I suppose that was the first red flag that something wasn't quite right.

The second one was a little more obvious.

As we left the ball, thankfully (maybe even surprisingly) unscathed, Jim was casting me a terribly wide grin, his icy blue eyes twinkling as he winked. I stood next to Bones as we prepared to be beamed back to the Enterprise, aware that Spock was across from me but keeping my gaze focused on the dirt beneath my feet. I found it hard to make eye contact with him after we had stopped our kiss. I didn't know how to feel- I was happy, confused, apprehensive, and, begrudgingly, turned on. The way he made me feel was indescribable. A glance at those pointed ears and my heartbeat sped up to the pace of a hummingbird's wings.

Bone's leaned in slightly.

"Be careful with that green-blooded hob-"

I cut him off with my hand.

"Doctor, please. It's late."

He scowled but didn't press it anymore, for which I was thankful. I didn't feel like explaining something that, truthfully, I didn't understand myself.

Within moments we were beamed back up and we split up. I vaguely remember Jim winking at me once again as he walked back towards his own quarters. By then it was long past midnight, and I was eager to fall into bed. However, despite trying not to be, I was also eager to clear things up between Spock and I.

Was I reading into this too much? Was McCoy right about needing to be careful? Or could I just relax and believe that Spock and I could actually be together? Did he want that? Did I even want that?

"Stella."

I didn't know whether or not to be surprised by his use of my first name. Spock fell into stride with me as we walked slowly. His perfect posture seemed a little less perfect, his neat hair seemed a little less kempt, and over all he seemed a little less Spock.

"Yes, Commander?"

I was playing it safe, avoiding first names just yet. That seemed a bit silly though. I had just kissed him for God's sake!

We walked for a few moments before he spoke.

"Would you like to join me in my chambers for a cup of tea?"

He glanced at me and cocked an eyebrow when I didn't respond.

"Or would you prefer coffee?", he prompted as I remained silent.

That was flag number two and yet I remained oblivious even as I took note of the overall green tint that was now present one his face. He seemed almost…sick? He was fine hours before, extremely fine during our kiss- But I couldn't quite put my finger on it yet. I bit the inside of my cheek for a second before nodding hesitantly.

His faced remained stony and distant, but his eyes seemed darker, worrying me just a little bit.

Why was I so antsy about this? I wanted this, I wanted him. Our relationship was rocky; within the past few months he had built this barrier between us, creating a distance that I didn't think could be lessened by a one-night hookup. The problems ran deeper, even I could see that. He was my commander, he was an elite Star Fleet officer, he was Vulcan. The differences that separated us were seemingly monumental, but the optimist deep within me wanted to believe it was possible for us to be together.

I didn't have any more time to psychoanalyze the situation, as we had arrived at his quarters. The uneasy feeling within my chest had yet to subside and yet I still wanted him, despite the consequences that this recklessness could possibly have.

I slid off my shoes as I entered, my bare feet sinking into the red carpet under them.

Spock's lean frame slid past me as he walked into the small kitchen towards the far end of his quarters.

A quick thirty seconds later he reemerged, and, funny enough, empty-handed. I quirked my head.

"Spock?"

His mouth was open and it looked like he was going to say something but he remained silent. I could see a light layer of perspiration on his forehead, and his cheeks seemed even greener than before. The uneasiness was making my stomach do flips. Or was that just his ears again?

I walked towards him slowly, our eyes locked in an intense gaze, my hands reaching up to feel his forehead. As the back of my hand made contact with his scarily warm and flushed face, he grabbed my hand with lightning speed. I gasped slightly as his grip tightened. But fear began to make my heart race this time, not his gracefully pointed ears, because his strong grip hurt.

He leaned in abruptly and kissed me once again, a deep kiss that made butterflies emerge within me. I moaned lowly, and his hands roughly grasped at my back and bottom as he pulled me closer.

He pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me, continuing to kiss me deeply, continuing to grip my wrist much too roughly for my liking, but I didn't stop. I lifted my legs and wrapped them around him, his hips pushing against mine with such ferocity that I pulled away from our kiss and stared at him, taken aback. What was going on?

He buried his face into my neck, biting it softly and thrust again, the friction between our clothes apparently becoming too much for him to handle because he hummed deeply- no, a growl.

A low, slightly frightening, growl.

I put my hands to his face, attempting to sit up but finding it very difficult.

"Spock, look at me."

He seemed reluctant to do so but complied. His face was still flushed, his eyes were now unfocused and glassy, and his breath carried the sent of…wine.

He was drunk. Finally, I put two and two together.

The wine, it didn't affect me but it must have done something to him, it must've. It took me a second to find my voice.

"Spock, I need to go." I could feel tears forming, and I was not in the mood to cry in front of him.

His eyes were searching mine, maybe trying to figure out what he had done wrong, but I didn't feel like explaining to him.

"Stella, are you feeling well?" His voice showed traces of concern within the flat tone he had even now, despite his state.

"I should go." I repeated softly, and I felt his grip on my wrist loosen, his eyes seeming to become more focused. He leaned back and stood up, his posture now straighter. It seems he had been snapped out of his dazed stupor. I stood up and walked to the door, still out of breath slightly. I slipped on my shoes and looked at him from across the room, where he was staring at me intently. I knew the disappointment was probably evident on my face but he said nothing about it, his stoic appearance now back in place.

"Goodnight, Spock."

His emotionless face had returned quickly.

"Good night, Lieutenant." His voice wasn't particularly cold or biting, just indifferent. He didn't care.

I turned away and left his quarters before a tear rolled down my cheek..

I could practically feel my heart sinking from my chest to my toes. I walked briskly to my quarters, my cheeks on fire and my breath catching in my throat. Every scenario I had imagined in my head, like the one where I'm with him, was just another silly daydream that was shattered by my reality; I would never be with him, I couldn't.

SPOCK'S POV

He entered his quarters swiftly, Stella following him as she slid her shoes off and stood quietly, an odd look on her face. His heartbeat was beating much faster but his mind felt slower, and he couldn't understand why. Irritation and confusion lay beneath the surface of his seemingly calm demeanor as he strode across his flat and into the small kitchen. His hands reached for the metallic tea kettle before he retracted them. What was he thinking, inviting her in for tea? Had he hoped they could have a calm discussion about what had just happened between them? He couldn't tell. For the first time in a long time, he felt more…human. Emotional. Maybe even delirious. He felt his palms slightly sweat but he tried to soothe his mind. Surely this woman couldn't have this much affect on him?

He walked back out into the room, empty handed, bent on telling her that what he had done was unprofessional, inappropriate, and misleading. However, he couldn't lie to himself (seeing as he was Vulcan); he had feelings for her. He didn't know just what it was but he knew all of what he was feeling didn't make sense. It was illogical.

He had carefully selected words sitting on his tongue, ready to be spoken, but as he saw her, he felt something inside him change, in his hands and his head, his stomach, his knees; he felt as if he couldn't control it. Spock didn't know why he did but as he saw her standing there, with her brown hair swaying around her pale shoulders in the dim light, her eyes bright and wide, staring at him intently, her red lips parted slightly, he made what would normally be an illogical decision.

She walked towards him, lifting a soft hand to his face. Her hand was cold, making him slightly jolt, imperceptibly. He quickly snatched her wrist, and she whimpered as his grip tightened, unaware of his strength it seemed.

Spock knew he was out of control, he knew that kissing her and throwing her onto the bed was out of control, and he knew wanting to claim her as his own was out of control. He felt almost animalistic, knowing that it was all so wrong and wanting to do it anyway because it felt so right. Feeling her writhe underneath him, biting her neck in a way that was sure to leave a mark, and rubbing his hips against hers so warmth was sent spiraling throughout him. He wanted her body; he wanted her to be his, he wanted-

"Spock, look at me."

He stared at her face, her red, blushing face, her alarmed blue eyes, her disheveled hair. His face was inches from her, his nose nearly touching hers.

"Spock, I need to go."

He didn't move, only stared at her with such more emotion in his eyes than she had ever seen in him before.

"Stella, are you feeling well?"

She seemed slightly perplexed for a moment.

"I should go." He could feel himself begin to feel more normal, as if he had just been snapped out of a trance. He released his grip on her, now realizing how tight it had actually been. He got up, standing now several feet away from her, trying to understand what a mistake he had just made. He regained his posture as she stood in his doorway.

"Good night, Spock."

He found it hard to make eye contact with her.

"Good night, Lieutenant."

She left quickly.

That's what she was- a Lieutenant. They were coworkers.

He began to undress, getting ready to sleep, but his mind was still wide- awake and he felt much too hot. The unprofessionalism both of them had just demonstrated was appalling, and he knew it.

Even as he prepared for his meditation, he found it hard to remain calm. Why was he feeling this way? So drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. He found it, in all senses, illogical. Physically, he should only be drawn to his Vulcan mate. That was the purpose of having a Vulcan mate; so the practice of Pon Farr could be performed correctly. Mentally, this made no sense to him. While he had human blood within him as well, Spock had embraced the Vulcan practice of suppressing these emotions; love was one of them. Although he never had purged himself of emotion completely, he had never had any issue controlling them, and never allowed them to cloud his rational judgment. He wasn't going to start now.

He took several deep breaths, refusing the feelings, pushing them into a dark corner within his mind, locking them up, and drowning them. Everything was confusing to him at this moment, he felt incapable both mentally and physically.

The meditation felt as if it had calmed him, but he still found it difficult to focus. He even stumbled slightly as he walked towards his bed. Although slightly sweaty, heart rate a little higher than normal, he made a mental vow to himself.

He would stay away from the Lieutenant from now on. It was only logical.