Author’s note: I just realized that I “can” spoil you! After all, you have already had an opportunity to read this chapter. Although, it has been greatly revised and expanded since it was originally posted back in July… of 2009! Man, have I REALLY been working on this story that long?
Chapter 1 – The Romance of the Century?
“By my calculations, you have watched this program exactly forty times. This viewing will bring that total up to forty-one.”
They had been an official couple for over a year now and an unofficial one well before that and yet she never seemed to grow tired of his need for precise calculations and had actually found them quite endearing.
“You know, Spock,” said Lieutenant Nyota Uhura to her superior officer and lover, “sometimes I think you haven’t a romantic bone in your body. I’m really not in the mood for your calculations or your complaints tonight.”
Uhura removed the data chip from the box and carefully inserted it into the vid-viewer. If she wanted to watch Pride and Prejudice everyday for a year it was her business; Spock could go and meditate for an entire century for all she cared.
She flopped down ungracefully on her bed and bunched her pillow up underneath her chin and waited for the first appearance of Fitzwilliam Darcy.
When Spock made his response, his tone was unhurried and mild-mannered and just as smooth and easy as it had always been.
“I am merely stating a fact, Nyota. The current shift schedule requires us both to be back on duty at 0800 hours. That gives us exactly twelve hours to spend time together. I do not find it acceptable to sit for five of those hours watching human males riding on the backs of domesticated animals, attired in wet shirts.”
Nyota rolled her eyes heavenward.
“Newsflash, Spock: that glorious wet shirt scene doesn’t make an appearance until almost one-hundred and seventy-nine minutes in and he doesn’t actually wear the wet shirt while riding on the horse.
Spock tilted his head slightly which usually indicated that he had the beginnings of a hypothesis to make.
“Why is it when I formulate a precise calculation it is considered complaining and when you formulate one it is an important statement of fact?
“You know what? Some popcorn would be great,” she mumbled distractedly, her eyes having already focused on the handsome actor playing Mr. Darcy riding across an open field with his friend, Mr. Bingley, in hot pursuit.
“I am leaving, Nyota.”
“That’s nice sweetie,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand that Spock interpreted as a way to shut him up. “I’d like some lemonade, too.”
Spock raised an eyebrow and stepped to the door. When it made its customary “whoosh” sound Uhura’s head popped up off the pillow.
“Spock,” she exclaimed incredulously, “what, you’re leaving?”
“Yes, Nyota. I am leaving.”
“Clearly you have other activities that require your attention this evening.”
“But, I thought—I thought that you were going to pop some popcorn and watch this with me?”
“If I gave you that impression you are sadly mistaken.”
Something in his tone and in his stance now had her full attention. She sat up.
“Why are you so angry?”
“I am a Vulcan; I always endeavor to avoid anger.”
“Spock, it’s me, remember; I’m looking at you right now and I can always tell when you’re angry.”
“I am not angry!” he said, his volume increasing only slightly.
She huffed. “OK, you’re displeased, then.”
“Your inattentive behavior towards me when coupled with your devotion to this particular choice of viewing material is highly illogical. If, after a time, you feel that you can pull your attention away, I will be in the recreation room on deck four playing three dimensional chess.” Spock walked to the door.
“Well, at least come back and give me a goodnight kiss before you leave.”
Spock stood still for a moment, debating with himself before complying; Nyota always asked him to do the most unconventional things, but her illogical requests often led to pleasurable consequences.
She waited patiently, watching for his turn and that first, reluctant step forward.
And accordingly he did turn, stepped forward once, and paused at the very end of her bed. Now he did his own bit of waiting; she would need to come halfway, he surmised, this was an equal partnership, after all.
Only after watching him make his move did she grin broadly. This was why she loved him so much: he was never one to act on impulse; he always carefully considered each of his actions and always expected the appropriate reaction; and yet, when he arrived where she had led him he was like putty in her hands.
“Computer,” she said while scooting to the edge of her bed, “on mute.”
Nyota rose up to her knees and he leaned forward, giving her a quick, perfunctory kiss on the lips. He leaned back slightly and gazed at her. One slanted eyebrow rose slowly, signaling that the next reaction to his action was hers to make.
Slowly and carefully, she placed her hands on each of his shoulders, sliding them up until they were around his neck. Pulling him towards her, she hugged him tightly, making cooing noises into his ear while nuzzling her cheek against his neck.
Spock permitted her to engage in this form of human contact when he was in her arms; he had always found such activities acceptable and Nyota did derive a great deal of satisfaction from it herself. And yet, after thirty seconds, the cooing noises had ceased and her body had grown oddly still.
“You are watching it again, aren’t you?” he asked.
Author’s footnote: This is the last time I spoil you. 🙂