Story [Star Trek 2009] "A Slow, Sure Burn", Spock/Nyota ficlets and drabbles - Updated 8/11

?A Slow, Sure Burn?

Genre: Romance, Drama
Rating: PG
Characters: Spock/Uhura, ensemble crew

Summary: A day in the lives . . .

Notes: Since "What a Lovely Way to Burn" was biting off a little more than I could chew, I decided to make a series of small oneshots/ficlets and drabbles about our favorite couple. This small collection should be easy to maintain and even easier to update.

Since not all of these will be in chronological order, even though if they are in the Burn-verse(the unofficial name for Jade_eyes and mine's Spock/Uhura collection of stories ), all ficlets will have time frames listed as well to help with keeping things straight.

Enjoy!


Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but for the words.

---

For the first, I'm delving into Spock's POV, very early during the Academy days. [face_love]



[b][u]I. ?the names of heat, and the names of light?[/b][/u]

[i]Starfleet Academy, Earth
Stardate: 2256.87[/i]

He enjoys exercising late at night, or early in the morning. While not needing the normal eight hours of required sleep that a Terran form did, and not being able to hold to the scant two that his father's people indulged in, he often found himself awake at odd hours. With this schedule, he was able to run in the vacant hours when there was no one on the Academy grounds.

It was soothing, being the only one about. It let him calm his thoughts even as he strengthened his body. The mind was as strong as the form that held it; and for him, he found as much peace in physical exercise as he did in meditation. When he did not indulge in the traditional forms his people preferred ? Suus Mahna having been used as more of an art as a way of combat for centuries ? he took to more mundane sorts.

At eight-hundred and fifty steps, he was at the north end of the Academy green. There was a crest from which one could observe the sun come up over the city. Facing the other direction would grant one the same view over the wide expanse of the ocean if the sun was setting.

It was too early for either solar phenomenon to light the sky; he knew, but the knowledge was ready in his mind nonetheless.

His heart rate was elevated by six point ninety-one percent as he went uphill. His breathing was level, coming in easy inhalations and breathed exhales. His steps echoed in time.

Eight-hundred and eighty-five steps, he still counted.

Eight hundred and eighty-six.

At eight-hundred and ninety-five, he found that he was not alone.

It was dark out ? about an hour before the sun would start to rise, and the grounds start to fill with students and instructors both. Still, he could hear the faint chatter of noise different from those natural to the route he took (the wind and the ocean beyond and the slight hum of the generators of the lights that lit the grounds). Looking down, he traced the sounds origin to musical device of some sort. The origins of which was strapped to the wrist of the young woman who was contentedly spread out in the grass at the crest of the hill.

Raising a brow, he recognized one of his students ? a truly gifted Cadet by the name of Nyota Uhura. She was wearing jogging apparel as well, it would seem ? leggings that he would guess to be a charcoal gray, were it not for the shadows that impeded his view. Over which she had a loose gray sweater, whose shoulders and neck were messily cut off. The straps from her exercise top peeked through, white in contrast to the darkness of her skin in the shadows.

She was laid out on her back, her arms crossed under her head, and one foot bouncing from where she had it crossed over her left knee, which was bent upwards still. The whole position seemed rather silly to his eye, but her lips were upturned from where she was nodding her head along to the music. Her earphones were white in the dim light, drawing his eyes up the smooth curve of her neck before he shook his gaze away, fascinated as to how his observations turned with her.

When he drew

 

Deb: How did I know that you would enjoy this one? Thanks for being behind me so much with these, you truly are like chocholate to my muse!

Master_Jaina: And you certainly return the favor inspiration-wise! There will be more where this came from, that's for sure.


More in a few!


~MJ

 

I already have an update.

Ideally, I'd like to update these every Monday for sure, and then anything extra will simply be a bonus!

---

[b]II. "the center of the bed has always been my own"[/b]

[i]Starfleet Academy, Earth
Stardate: 2258.15[/i]


At first, he can't precisely figure out how to hold her.

The center of the bed has always been his own. He had never saw the need to share it with anyone else. Past the 'experimentation' he had done with human hormones and pheromones while visiting Earth as a teenager, and the 'blind date' or two that he had embarked on at his roommate's assistance while still a Cadet, he had never felt the urge to take on a lover ? let alone share his living quarters in so intimately, at any rate.

Briefly, he thought about waking her, curious to know if his thoughts were normal to her experience. He brushed the thought away as quickly as it came, truly not wanting to know of her past . . . [i]experiences[/i], certain that that would derail the whole point of the conversation.

Nyota Uhura, however, for all of his fumbling and stumbling on the planes of a relationship, seemed to worm her way into his routines and his living space just as easily as she wormed a hole into other parts of his life . . .

Her toothbrush was in the bathroom; standard and white but with a flamboyant red stripe down the handle. It was not regulation. Her hair products ? also not starfleet provided ? were brightly colored bottles whose contents smelled like jasmine and citrus. The whole bathroom smelled of it when she was done in the evening. The lower two drawers of the dresser now had the necessary items for her ? he was taller, she had said, and had promptly relocated his belongings to make room for her own. It did not feel like an invasion of privacy so much as a sharing of it.

He kept coffee on hand, a strong blend that burnt acidicly at his higher senses of smell, let alone the preferences of his stomach. She favored the stone mug that he had purchased from Aldoria, and so he kept it washed and on the ready for when she studied after her classes.

On the coffee table in the main area, she had her stack of PADDs, and she permanently kept an earpiece on his desk. Her boots were still resting by the door from where she had kicked them off. His were neatly in the closet.

He finds hairbands everywhere.

She wore football jerseys to bed when she wasn't indulging in other attire for him, and the material was cool and comfortable against his skin. She did not talk in her sleep so much as murmur ? dozens of languages that his ear picked up and tried to place. Some he could, and some he couldn't. He feels content when she slips into her mother tongue, knowing that she is so as well. The vowels of her own language were soothing, hearing them as well as feeling them from where she muttered them against his chest. Her even exhales tickled, slightly, but he did not push her away.

She tosses and turns in her sleep, and he holds her to keep her still. That is what he tells himself, anyway. Surely she could not get the most from her rem stages if she was tossing and turning in such a manner . . . She stills with his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin, and molding into him like the sea to the shore. He had lowered the climate controls for her earlier, knowing that she slept better when it was cool; and the warmth of her was more than enough to make for the lack of temperature for him. He tells himself this, making it seem completely logical to hold her in such a manner.

He never really used more than a sheet before, but he had a heavy down comforter ordered for her, and she had brought her own pillow ? something that looked like it had survived all the way from her days in Kenya. She hogged the comforter, but he truly did not mind. He had purchased it for her.

She had started on her side of the bed, the left, closest to the window, she had said she preferred. And yet, she seemed to end as she was now ? twined around him, making a mess o

 

Oh my goodness, you guys are made of so much win that it isn't even funny! I adore it.


Jade_eyes: That made my day, you have to know!! It was a ridiculous amount of fun writing that - I really let my fangirl sensibilities get away with me, and I am glad that you enjoyed the 'slam dunk' result! (And you're lucky to be able to pull of the short hair, I'm just saying. )

Ceil: I do love jump-starting muses. And I do think that the hairband thing is universal, I go through so many of them, and still find them everywhere . . . Except when I actually need one. They're like pens, those dastardly hairbands.

Master_Jay: It is Monday! Thanks so much for reading, and good luck with the muse! (And those hairbands. )


~MJ

 

For this one, I have a dialogue only, and rather silly little piece featuring child!Kirk and eyebrow-raising!Spock.

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[b]III. ?an unfortunate case of casual observations and mistaken trajectories"[/b]

[i]Bridge, USS Enterprise
Stardate: 2259.313[/i]


?So, Mister Spock, I saw you back there.?

?To what are you referring to, Captain??

?I. Saw. You.?

?Repeating your statement with altered oratory emphasis will not hasten my understanding.?

?Oh no, you are not logically talking your way out of this one, Spock.?

?. . . Captain??

? . . . You are seriously not going to just own up to it??

?Captain, as your powers of hearing seem to be working at an acceptable level, I must inform you that I am moving on to the business at hand until you wish to divulge what you find so fascinating.?

?Oh, I think you know.?

?The ion reports from the space outside of Darrl Fi show significant levels of -?

? - and you aren't work-talking your way out of it, either!?

? - solar radiation, and -?

?Fine! I saw you . . . and the Lieutenant . . . No no, you don't have to look around! Not them. [i]Her[/i].?

?Her? If by her you mean Lieutenant Uhura; she just recently reached the end of her shift and departed. It has been three minutes and point forty-eight seconds since then.?

?I know that, Spock. I was here.?

?Then, to what are you referring??

?You were . . . [i]looking[/i] at her.?

?I bid the Lieutenant farewell. Such things usually would suggest eye contact.?

?If that's what you want to call it.?

?Captain??

?Wow, you can make a respectful title sound like a sigh like none other, Mister Spock.?

?I will confess to not understanding.?

?I bet you would. But, seriously, you were totally [i]looking[/i] at her when she left. Like [i]look[/i]-looking. With a capitol 'L'.?

?Once again, your oratory emphasis would imply that you are trying to denote a meaning other than the word's actual one.?

?You were checking her out.?

?Captain, if you are implying that I 'looked' at the Lieutenant in an inappropriate way, then that was a lapse on my part that won't happen again. But, there was nothing untoward involved in the glance, I can assure you.?

?You would say that.?

?As I was saying before we veered off subject, the levels of solar radiation from around Darrl Fi -?

?Really, that's all you are going to say??

?There was more to say??

?I just caught you red handed -?

?Captain.?

?- checking out your girl -?

?Captain.?

?- and you're going to talk about [i]solar radiation[/i]??

?Jim,? and this time Spock's voice was indeed a sigh. ?There is business to be completed at hand.?

?I know.?

?Then perhaps you should continue on with this line of questioning at another time.?

?Okay, okay . . . But, you know, it's okay if you were. Your girl is one beautiful specimen of the female form and she deserves to be appreciated . . . What? [i]I[/i] wasn't that one [i]look[/i]-looking at her, you don't have to look at [i]me[/i] like that now.?

?I am aware of the Lieutenant's aesthetic appeal.?

?That's one way to put it.?

?But, I can assure you that that thoughts of her aesthetic appeal were not the only thing impacting on my reasoning when I was looking at her. If my gaze dropped more than fourteen point seventy five inches as she walked away, then I have no comment on the matter.?

?Ha! I knew it! I [i]knew[/i]-knew it!?

?Now, the solar radiation readings from Darrl Fi are as follows . . .?






[b]~MJ[/b] [face_rose]

 

Jade_eyes: Too true! They are doomed on both sides. But so deliciously so.

Master_Jay: Oh, Kirk and Spock bromancing it is a blast to write! And Spock would have to be blind to not look . . .

Ceillean: Oh, Kirk is veeeery mature. Sometimes. Maybe.


~MJ

 

Because Deb asked for this one first.

Enjoy!

---

[b]IV. ?catch in my throat?[/b]

[i]Starfleet Academy, Earth
Stardate: 2257.325[/i]


The first time she says it, he is taken by surprise.

The words were softly spoken, and simply uttered. At the end of one of their evenings spent together, as she prepared to leave, she simply let the words slip from her mouth as her hand gently dropped from his face. She was halfway out the door, hand pressed lightly against the controls to keep it open, and still leaning towards him. There was nothing to make the parting different from a hundred others, but the soft turn to her eyes and the hesitant tremor to her hand as she pressed a stray strand of hair behind her ear spoke of a lingering nervousness over his reception of the words.

There was no fanfare behind her declaration, nothing built up to or expected. It was simply an expression of what she felt inside . . . She said the words with such ease. Her emotions were apart of her, and they worked in harmony with her, even when they threatened to be a disservice (rage and passion and anger and hate all things that pulled about as the moon pulled the tide. For the most, anyway.) to her.

She turned after a moment of gaping (even if he would never admit to such) silence on his part. A smile was starting to cut her face, wide and fond as she understood the reason for his silence. Her hair tickled his palm as she turned away; leaving him with the urge to reach out for her, even as he was anchored to the spot.

He stood by the door, looking out at an empty hall for a full four minutes and ninety-two seconds after she left. Afterward, he shook his head over how illogical he was acting and went inside to meditate. He did not cease from the activity from the rest of the evening.

[i]I love you.[/i]

Three small words, three syllables only. Eigh letters. One breath.

It shouldn't pose such a hurdle, even in the form of thought.

He studies her closely the next time she says it ? sees the small glint to her eyes, and the way her cheeks darken almost bashfully. All were fools who loved, he hears the poet's words - he can't place the name - in his mind. But this brand of wistful silliness is almost appealing on her as a laugh bubbled up in her throat and realization bloomed behind her eyes. It was as if it was a foreign idea to her, one made real and tangible by the words on her lips.

?You don't have to say it back,? she whispered, absolving him of the words that suddenly knotted on his tongue and out of his reach. A moment later he didn't have time to say much of anything, anyway - her mouth was warm and her hands were insistent, and when he cupped her face he let his thoughts and emotions flow to her through the skin to skin contact. The bond that was steadily strengthening between them glowed white hot for a moment, and even if he didn't voice the words, he knew that she knew. Knew that what he felt was even beyond human capacity to voice into thoughts ? as alien was the thick welling of feeling deep and turbulent inside of him.

Later, he meditates seventy-one minutes and eighteen seconds longer than he normally would to restore an equilibrium to his control. He spends twenty-seven minutes and a thousand seconds after that trying to wrap his mind around the riddle of why the words seemed to be so hard to utter in return . . .

The words seemed to come easy and often after the first time she said it. They ended comm calls, and they started morning conversations, 'love,' she calls him, easy as breathing, when she meets him at a cafe off campus enough for them not to be seen, and 'love you' she throws in at the end of messages she leaves for him. He thinks he likes the word particularly well, breathed into his ear as her body twined around his, but that is an illogical thought to end a string of them. He tries to end it there.

And he is unsuccessful.

Logically, he wonders why the words were so hard to say. They were simply a verbal manifestation of feelings that alre

 

Deb: I take it that you liked it? Their bond is amazing to write! Very hot, too . . . Thanks so much!!!

Master_Jay: Their bond is one of the most fascinating parts of their relationship, and I love exploring it. You can expect to see much on that note.


More in a moment!


~MJ

 

V. ?for you dreamed of flight in not only the height, but the breadth?


Riverside Shipyards, Iowa
Stardate: 2258.09


?Enterprise ? English for a venture of scope; risk and promise. Often not without difficulty before the final end is achieved.?

It was the end of a day of traveling for them. The last stages of building were upon the ship that would soon be called the Enterprise, and more and more often Spock found himself venturing out to meet Captain Pike at the building site. This was the first time she had been able to go with him, between classes and her extracurricular affairs, and she was as excited (her words, not his) as he was to see the great ship in person again.

The last time she had seen the ship, she had been little more but a frame against the horizon. An idea slowly being born into creation with open wires and sparks lighting the waning light like Prometheus' fire must have lit the darkness so long ago. Against the nothingness of the fields around her, she had arisen like a dream from the mists ? something half wished and hoped for.

Now, now she was all sleek plates and graceful curves. She would be quick and graceful and regal in the end . . .

The Enterprise . . .

?It's a fitting name,? she agreed, bemused. In the back of her mind her history flashed before her ? of the French, then English galleon of the same name. And humanity's first fledgling fight to see the stars . . . The name was fitting in more ways than one.

?She's the largest ship in the fleet, or will be when she is completed. The Constitution class ships are fledgling ? but their technology is sound, and when construction is completed, the fleet will boast of twelve such ships.?

She was standing with her back to him. His arms were wrapped comfortably around her midsection, and hers clasped over his out of reflex. She could feel the eager restlessness in his veins. He, in turn, was leaning back against the hoverbike that they had taken out to the site ? while she had known that he had used one proficiently back on Vulcan, she had yet to see him fly one on Earth. The experience was as enjoyable to her as actually visiting the great starship ? especially when Spock took to wearing a dark leather duster (logical, given the heat and the dust kicked up by the craft) and dark glasses (protective eye-wear) to complete her girlish vision most acceptably.

She'd never admit to liking the fast and furious image (if she did, Okeon knew there was no way she'd ever get Kirk off her back) but this she could get used to . . . very, very used to. Gaila had erupted into a coughing fit upon seeing the Commander arrive, before nudging her in an envious way. Spock, of course, had been oblivious to how he had nearly caused her a severe case of cardiac arrest as she took to coughing in much the same way her roommate had ? but was sweet as he hesitantly patted her back, and asked if she was okay.

Instead of taking the transporter hops to Iowa, Spock had left a day earlier than needed, and they had simply traveled across the country for the scenic route ? their route had taken them through Colorado and the mountains. And lunch on one of the Grand Canyon outposts had certainly been a treat for her to remember. She sure hadn't complained about the driving time ? communicating was made easy by the headsets in their helmets, and the craft was surprisingly comfortable - and she had certainly enjoyed her place behind Spock. The leather under her hands had been cool from where he had faced into the wind, but it had warmed under her touch as she cuddled up behind him ? all to make sure she was secure upon the vehicle, of course. In the end, she was sure that he took a longer route than needed ? not that she had complained.

She was interrupted from her very entertaining musings by Spock's smooth baritone behind her. He had taken to pointing out many of the Enterprise's notable features, all easily seen from their vantage point in the fields. ?Primarily designed by Larry Maverick, her construction

 

Deb: Oh yes, a permanent screensaver, that one would be! And you aren't the only one that thought that way - at least it is a mutual corruption. I am so glad that you enjoyed that one - I had a blast writing it.

Master_Jay: A nice mental image with both! Yeah, I was like Gaila writing it, and then I went into geek mode while gushing about the Enterprise . . . I completely understand!

More in a few.


~MJ