Title: Need

Author: fallendarkangel1306

Fandom: Star Trek (2009)

Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura

Warnings/Spoilers: Possible movie spoiler and sexual tension

Summary: Sometimes logic is not enough.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Notes: The way I see fit to characterize Spock and Uhura in this is very simple. Uhura is the direct polar opposite of Spock; where he is logical, she is emotional. What he is not able to express, she, essentially, expresses for him. This concept of Spock and Uhura's relationship was inspired by Zachary Quinto's own word of mouth. I'm sorry if there are those of you out there that don't agree with the way I do things; if you don't like it, don't read or comment - it's as simple as that, yeah? For those of you who are enjoying this story, thank you for your lovely comments. They really inspire me to continue. =]

Need

Nyota Uhura was a very illogical woman.

She was not the first nor the last Spock was sure to distinguish as such, for it was expectable of anyone not of the Vulcan race to reason with lapsed judgment. Humans, he had found, were the most stagnant of all because they, as individuals, were emotionally compromised. Kirk, alone, with his overwhelming predilection for irrelevancy proved in sum that humans were an illogical race. It was understandable that Spock, being Vulcan, often did not fathom the inconsistencies of human logic. He had studied the patterns of human behavior and dialects and was knowledgeable of their habits and customs; however, there were those who seemingly operated outside the realms of the norm. Even by Homosapien standards, persons such as James Kirk were incongruous. Although Kirk, as an anatomical being, was in a matter of sense a failure, Spock could at least rely on the fact that his illogicalness was consistent.

The same could not be said of Lieutenant Uhura.

Unlike Kirk, her unconventionality was dictated and sporadic. It was not in Spock's nature to be rendered astounded, but the nonconformities Uhura exhibited were, to say the least, fascinating. Fascinating, and perplexing. Her demonstration of emotion did not serve to rebel against what was logical, but rather to stimulate a physical response of a need much greater, and much deeper, than was of Spock's comprehension. It was just that. Need. Need, that deflected logic and was replaced by pure, unadulterated emotion. Human emotion. Human emotion was need, a concept that was embedded into Spock's biological structure per the laws of physics - he was half-human - but for the Vulcan in him it was foreign. He did not want; he did not need. He felt deeply, tacitly, as all Vulcans did, but to display emotion was irrelevant. Still, it had only taken her cheek against his cheek and the indemnity of her embrace to kindle an emotional response from within him that abandoned logic and all he had ever known.

For a moment, Spock had experienced wondrousness of human nature (illogical as it was), and it was now that he was finally able to not only understand, but appreciate the wise words of his father for what they were. He was not a Vulcan. He was not a Human. Spock was a child of two worlds. He accepted it. It was logical. Conducing this affair, however, while assessing situations in one's every day life? That would take more than logic.

'What do you need?' she had asked him, pulling away to meet his gaze steadily.

Spock froze a moment, blinked. This was a most unusual personal inquiry. He thought about it, turning over her words in his head, trying to wrap the meaning around his mind in attempt to understand. It seemed a lifetime of knowledge served him no purpose under the circumstances. The way he saw it, there was no logistic answer; therefore, it was impossible to formulate a reply. This must have been one of those human ruses. A joke, as he had once heard it phrased. A joke was classified as a story with a humorous climax, but she was not laughing. Had he not anticipated the juncture of climax properly? Human humor eluded him.

"I do not understand the question," he said.

They were out of the turbo lift now, moving. He was not aware if she was leading him, or if he was free of his own accord, following. The corridor was empty. She had not responded and did not look to him again until they were outside her quarters. The doors opened and there they stood together, not two inches apart.

"Lieutenant Uhura, I do not think - " Spock began, brow heavy in consternation.

"Captain," Uhura said, a hand lightly on his chest. He stiffened.

"It is inappropriate for a Starfleet captain to be alone with a female officer without a third party - " he said.

"Spock?" she interjected, her slender fingers curling into the material of his uniform, drawing him closer. Her other hand rested at his cheek.

"We will be missed if our stations are left unattended for any - " he continued, and she firmly pressed two fingers to his lips in a half-hearted attempt to silence him.

"Spock?"

"Lieutenant?"

"With all due respect, sir, shut up."

With that, she urged him into the room. The doors whooshed closed behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, contemplating. She touched his face again, gently, coaxing him to look back at her. Her features had softened, her eyes filled with understanding. He folded his hands comfortably behind his back, cleared his throat quietly, glancing past her as her second hand made contact with his face and her body pressed closer to him. She was patient. He tried to look away, to discern the situation and plot an appropriate course of action to dispel it.

"Lieutenant," he began respectably. He could feel the intenseness of her gaze darting over his face, the burn of her fingertips against his skin.

"Nyota," she corrected.

"Nyota..." he repeated, the name rolling silkily off his tongue. He took her hands away and looked at her.

"What do you need?" she repeated her earlier inquiry, but it sounded different this time. Almost pleading.

He took a breath and began again, "I do not - "

He looked at her, and his earlier suspicion had been correct. Her dark eyes were pleading with him. As he seemed to be attempting to grasp at understanding, so was she.

"Nyota, this is...this is not logical," Spock replied.

She smiled coyly and pulled herself closer to him still. With a slow flutter of her eyelashes, she met his gaze once more; he could taste her warm breath as she parted her lips to speak. "In case you haven't noticed, humans are an illogical race."

He pulled away and paced a few steps, his back to her. His posture was as regal as ever, even in the face of philosophical destruction as he knew it. Her eyes were upon him, but she did not follow. Not yet. Perhaps she was waiting for him to speak, but this was a time where words and logic were clearly futile.

"Spock," Uhura said.

He was non-responsive. She changed tactics.

"Your mother is dead. Your home gone. It's not unreasonable for you to feel - "

"What I feel - " he interjected, incredulously, then added quickly, solemnly: "Emotion is irrelevant. It is not our nature."

"Whose nature?" she demanded, turning to face him. "Theirs? Vulcans? Your mother was human, Spock. Human."

"I do not wish to discuss - "

"Your are not them, Spock. You are your own. I know you care, so don't hide from me. Please. Don't hide," she pleaded, daring to reach a hand out again to stroke his face. His skin burned from her touch again.

She leaned in and kissed him fervently. He did not respond, at first, and she pulled back. A tear streaked down her soft brown cheek.

"Your face is wet," he needlessly pointed out.

"Please," she said, taking his face in both hands, her forehead almost resting against his. Her hot breath was against his mouth. He closed his eyes. "Don't, don't think. Just feel, Spock."

She pulled her face back, dark eyes darting all over his face.

"Please. How do you feel? Tell me how you feel." She kissed him once. "Show me," she breathed quietly, pleadingly against his lips. "Show me."