A Brief Encounter: Part Eight (in which the author proves once and for all that intimacy between Spock and a woman does not always involve Pon Farr, the Plak Tow, or Spores)

Author’s note: It’s Friday night and all of you with lives probably won’t even read this tonight.  Oh well, posting it will give me something to do!

He had purposely put himself into a light meditative state, so when he heard her calling out to him weakly around midnight, he knew immediately that her illness must have progressed to the chills stage.  Belting his black silk pelal over his bare torso, he quickly responded to her cries for aid.

“Nyota, I am here.  What is it that you require?”

“Blanket,” she said.  He could hear her lips trembling and her teeth chattering through the darkness.  “Cold, Spock, so cold.”

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Authors Note: HA!  Made you look.  A little Friday evening practical joke! I am holding the rest ransom until I hear from at least three people who are at home (just like me), just to prove that I am not the only pathetic one without a life on Friday night.  If I don’t hear from those other three boring people like myself, I will hold off on posting until Monday…ish!

Oh and one thing more… she’s cold, and he’s warm.  Just stew on that scenario for a moment.  That ought to inspire someone to post.

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ETA: OK, OK, it’s nearly midnight, you can stop your whining!  Man, can’t a girl have any fun on a Friday night?  Here it is!  Enjoy…

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He had purposely put himself into a light meditative state, so when he heard her calling out to him weakly around midnight, he knew immediately that her illness must have progressed to the chills stage.  Belting his black silk pelal over his bare torso, he quickly responded to her cries for aid.

“Nyota, I am here.  What is it that you require?”

“Blanket,” she said.  He could hear her lips trembling and her teeth chattering through the darkness.  “Cold, Spock, so cold.”

“Very well, I will return shortly.  Stopping in the main room, he addressed the computer.  “Computer, adjust environmental controls to 33 degrees Celsius.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED: TEMPERATURE ADJUSTED TO 33 DEGREES CELSIUS.”

He retrieved one blanket from the hall closet, only to recall McCoy’s suggestion that she would most likely want them all; he secured all three.”

However, after tucking all the blankets around her securely and observing her for twenty additional minutes, her shivering had increased by sixty-seven percent.

Removing the blanket and quilt from his own bed he added those as well.  After five more minutes of watching her continued shivering, he was only able to adjust the temperature in the room as high as 40 degrees Celsius before the computer indicted that that was the highest setting it was programmed to function.

Hotels, he thought, rolling his eyes.

He was now presented with a conundrum: she must be kept warm; the doctor had told him as much.  After all, her comfort and recovery were vital; she was his fellow officer, she was important to the ship and to him, he eventually admitted to himself.  So, there was only one logical course that remained open to him: he must use his own body heat to keep her warm.

He pulled his meditation robe around himself more securely and then sat down gingerly on the very edge of the bed, regarding her thoughtfully for a few moments.  He suspected that she wasn’t quiet lucid even though her fever had broken hours before.  But he needed to explain himself to her, to justify his actions.  The absolute worse thing in the world that could happen was the thought of her assuming that he was taking advantage.

“Nyota,” he started, only to think better of this informal form of address.  “Lieutenant Uhura.”  Yes, much more professional, he thought.

“May I be permitted to—” He stopped to think again.  What would he say?  May I be permitted to, what, share your bed?

He pictured McCoy’s smug, insufferable face at that moment, smirking at him, taunting him with words and expressions that hinted of his cowardice: ‘Stop being such a Vulcan, Spock, and get it there and handle things.  She’s a woman, not a Moogottu!’ Then McCoy would likely finish with a flippant remark, such as: ‘If you’re scared, say you’re scared.’

He cleared his throat and began again.

“Miss Uhura, it is impossible to exceed the heating capacity of the environment control for this room.  I do this only to make you more comfortable.  It is the only course available, therefore it is logical.”

Her eyes were closed and she said nothing, the chattering of her teeth her only answer.  He pulled back a corner of the blankets and paused.  What was it that Jim would say in situations such as these?  In for a penny, in for a pound?  Curious metaphor and curiously unhelpful at such a moment as this.

He slipped his body in between the covers completely, and waited, wondering what his next course of action should be.  Would it be better if he heated stones inside the fire pit and placed them in the bed next to her instead?  Where would he find these stones at this hour of the night?  Or, should he move closer and wrap her in his arms?

It was decided for him.

Uhura, seeming to sense a new source of heat, rolled off of her back and over onto her right side.  They were now laying face to face, her warm, steady breathing tickling his nose.

In the very next moment, her body began to draw up into a fetal position, only to pause when her legs encountered an obstacle: his legs, warm, bare, and inviting to her cold toes.  Before he had realized what was happening, her two little feet had found a way to establish themselves securely between his larger ones.

He began calculating the stress and load factors of the Enterprise’s engines at maximum warp.

But she wasn’t finished.  By inches, by turns, and by several long agonizing and excruciating minutes, her body drew nearer and nearer.  An arm, once tucked around her own body, had now become tucked in underneath his.

You are Spock, son of Sarek.

A knee had somehow worked its way forward and had parted his thighs until their legs were intertwined.

You are a Vulcan committed to the teachings of Surak.

And it was all he could do to keep his breathing steady when her head somehow found a home in that warm, downy place at the top of his chest.

You are in control of your emotions.

Yet, the complete undoing of all his carefully perfected Vulcan equilibrium came when the fingers of her hand had slipped through the folds of his robe and sought out the beating of his heart at his side and she whispered her sweet words once again.

“Mine,” she said, “mine.”

He had never allowed a female such intimate access to his person.*  This was so very wrong, and yet, why did it feel so very right?  He had felt her pull on him from the very beginning of their acquaintance; he had always allowed her close, had enjoyed her gentle teasing.  He would allow this current level of contact to continue.  She had said it herself:  They were friends, she trusted him.  He would never take advantage of her innocent explorations now.  She needed him, needed his warmth.  And he would give it to her; he would probably give her anything she asked right now; she was that special.  Their friendship had only strengthened in this last week.  But what were they now?  More than friends?  Very good friends? And one day, perhaps, one day soon, they could, possibly explore something more.

Perhaps.

Having reasoned it all out and having found it logical, he gave up his struggle for control and simply allowed himself to finally drift off to sleep.

To be continued.

* I know you are all thinking that he allowed Leila Kalomi in, but that was only under the influence of the spores, so she doesn’t count.

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Authors footnote: Happy? And I swear, the first one who says it’s too short… and you really didn’t think that I, last of the Fundamentalist Quakers, was going to write a smutty scene?  Perish the though!

Anyway, there are NOW two MORE chapters to go.  I know what I said, but I decided just to go ahead and make it an even ten; hence this short one.

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19 thoughts on “A Brief Encounter: Part Eight (in which the author proves once and for all that intimacy between Spock and a woman does not always involve Pon Farr, the Plak Tow, or Spores)

  1. I was at home Friday night, but in a different time zone. Does that count?

    Too late now, I suppose. You’ve posted it. Very nice. Can’t wait to find out what happens when she’s feeling a bit better!

    • Sitting at home on a Friday night WITH A MAN is not the same thing as sitting at home on a Friday night with Korean take-away. So no, it doesn’t count! Thanks for reading, glad you liked it.

  2. All right, I’ll restrain myself but it was wonderful if a bit… No I won’t say it. I’ll just stop at WONDERFUL. Happy? No whining or complaining, just a plea for more, okay?

  3. That was great!!!! Smutty scenes are not needed, those are 10 a dozen in S/U stories. I’ll take good squee inducing scenes of mushiness anyday!

    • I know; I can’t bring myself to read them. I understand that all authors have their own interpretations, but really, I have no desire to read about threesomes, et al.

  4. I know it’s not Friday night but I’m here on a Saturday night…does that count? lol I love, love this…

    I am so happy he wasn’t under the influence of something to get close to Nyota…

    update soon!

    • Oh, so you weren’t in on Friday like the rest of us? I accuse you of having a life. And as you know, fan fic is not for people with lives! *snort* Ok, Ok, I will cut you some slack… this time. 🙂 Thanks, glad you enjoyed the chapter.

      • girly I write fanfic so I do not have a life… lol I was watching an old flick on tv…while outlining my next chapter…how sad is that?

    • Christmas? Christmas? I don’t actually celebrate it, love. While 50% of the world is out “a wassailing and a caroling” I will be by my fireside, snuggled up with Chinese take-away and a good movie. I expect this story will be finished by Christmas Eve. And if I applied myself to the edits (which I REALLY hate doing) it “could” be finished tonight. Thanks for reading!

      • Woooooo!!!! Well I am actually jealous, 20 years of making f***** Christmas dinner and family bother! Thank you for a lovely story. I had my exams last week so on friday I’m afraid I was hugging a bottle of Prosecco…

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