Uhura's brain is pushy and Spock's is logical. This is what happens when pushiness, logic, humor and lust meet Star Trek.

I don't own them; Paramount does. I don't know them; Roddenberry did. This story has been ricocheting around in my head since I saw the movie the second time and I needed to get it out so I can start to focus on more important things; things like eating, sleeping, showering and getting to work and Google imaging Zac Quinto.

I know, I know. It's another First Time/PWP story – and there are many, many, many of these (most of which are much better than this one) - but I wanted to play, too.

As my own amazing friend and Beta is on vacation in Minnesota for another week, this is unbetaed. Please let me know if you find any errors. I am somewhat of a perfectionist.

All Vulcan words are from the Vulcan Language Dictionary (VLD) which can be found online.

The "M" rating isn't for show. There are very sexual scenes ahead. If you are the age that you cannot or should not be reading, please close this now.

~*~Discoveries by outtabreath~*~

Chapter One of Six: Cadet

If he's not here, if he doesn't answer, I'll leave. That'll be that- the end of this. I will get over this. I will find myself a nice Human male who will use his body to make me forget all about this. Make me forget about the power of logic and intellect and brown eyes. That's the plan Nyota, if he's not here…

But the door opened and all other thoughts vanished.

Brown eyes.

Brown eyes as placid and unemotional as ever.

But.

There was a spark. It was faint – but it was definitely a spark.

"Cadet?"

That spark helped her find her resolve. "I would like to talk to you." Her voice was strong and calm. "Can I come in?"

He stood very still.

If he doesn't move aside, I'll leave. Go find that Human guy. Start forgetting....

He stepped aside.

She brushed past him, focusing on her feet and the spark she'd seen in his eyes. The door slid shut behind her and she pivoted to face him.

His head was tilted towards her, his face more open than she'd ever seen it. He looked almost…curious.

She was shaking. That surprised and dismayed her. She should be calm and logical; make her arguments and move forward. But she was emotional and tense; wanted to forget about the talking and get right to the not-talking part.

He was patiently waiting, his hands clasped behind his back in his usual stance. How many times had she seen him like this lecturing? How many times had she wanted to leave her seat and go to him, press her lips to his – just to see what he would taste like – how he would react?

More than you can count, Nyota. You need to do something…

Her brain was certainly being pushy tonight.

She mirrored his stance and took a deep breath, "Commander."

"Spock," he said gently.

The spark was growing clearer. Brighter.

"Spock," she said, finding her feet, finding her courage. "I believe there is something you and I need to discuss."

"That is what you stated when you arrived at my door," he pointed out.

Do it, Nyota. Don't give up now.

"You and me," she started, waving her hand between their bodies. "I think there is something here."

He looked at the space between their bodies, his eyebrows moving together infinitesimally. "I do not believe I comprehend your meaning."

Great. Thanks, Brain.

Out loud, however, she maintained her bravado. "I think that you hold me in high regard."

"You are correct. You are an accomplished student and a brilliant woman"

She was feeling a little woozy. That was practically gushing from Spock. "And…?"

Another minuscule tightening of his forehead muscles, "Did you desire me to give you specific examples of your academic prowess? Are you in need of a letter of reference or similar document? I would have no objections to provide you with one if needed. Please supply me with the name of the person to whom I should address my evaluation."

Maybe this wouldn't be as easy as she had thought it would be. "No, Spock, I do not need a letter of recommendation."

"Then I am not certain what you are asking me to discuss."

"I'm a woman," she said, shocking herself.

"Yes."

"You are a man."

His jaw tightened and the corners of his lips quirked up. "That is also accurate."

"I'll have you know that I've been told I'm pretty, beautiful even – lots and lots of times." She flinched inwardly. Oh well, too late to not have said the words.

"I have heard many students make that same assessment," he said. His posture was as rigid as ever – was she only imagining that his shoulders had tensed a little?

Probably.

She was definitely not imaging that the quirk was gone and that he looked as close to wary as he probably would ever look.

"And what is your assessment?" she continued. In for a credit, in for a bar of latinum.

She did not realize that his eyebrow could go quite that far up his forehead. She was surprised that it didn't disappear under his bangs.

"Cadet Uhura…."

Oh this is bad. Really, really bad. Why did he answer the door? Why? Why? Why? I could be making out with some random guy right now…

"Empirically, I would agree with the assessment that I have heard voiced by numerous other cadets. However, I would never use descriptive phrases quite as," he paused, "colorful as the ones they have employed."

"So you think I'm pretty." What was she? Fifteen? Her mouth was working without assistance from her brain; the very same brain that had pushed her into this – tired of her constant thoughts and musings and fantasies about the very tense Vulcan standing in front of her.

He went more rigid – who could have ever guessed that it was even possible – and said, "I believe that I just made that statement."

She felt her mouth gape open a bit. Spock thought she was pretty, yes, pretty in an empirical way, but pretty nonetheless.

Brain, maybe you know what you're doing after all.

"Cadet Uhura, did you have any other points you needed to discuss?" His shoulders were definitely tenser.

She took a step closer to him. He stayed still, watching her closely.

"Points. Yes, points," she murmured. All she could see was the tips of the ears that were the third sexiest thing about him. She went up on tiptoe and brushed her fingertips across the points of his ears.

His hands came up quickly and covered hers. "Regulations state..." he began.

She dropped her fingers and took a step back. A small step. "Regulations are there to protect students and teachers from the appearance of favoritism. They are there to prevent people from trading sexual favors for grades.

"I have earned every grade I have ever received. You yourself said that I was brilliant and talented."

"Accomplished," he corrected.

She could feel his breath against her face.

"And you are unfailingly ethical. If anyone ever even thought of asking you to change a grade for them you would have them drummed out of the Academy."

"That is true."

"Additionally, I will be graduating soon. I won't be your student much longer."

Good points, Nyota.

Thanks, Brain!

"Perhaps we should wait."

Four words spoken in his precise, clipped manner; four words that pushed her right through the last of any doubts or fears.

If there is a we...if there is a wait...

This was going to happen and it was going to happen tonight.

"Spock, there is a very serious problem with that plan. Would you like to hear it?"

"I believe you will tell me no matter what my answer is, so I will merely remain silent so you can continue."

Sometimes Spock's idea of silent was to be anything but.

"Thank you. The problem is that I don't know how much longer I can keep myself from jumping on you in the classroom. That would cause a very serious problem, would it not?"

His eyebrows - both of them! - made the bang line this time.

She was pretty impressed with herself.

"I agree that such action would constitute a serious breach of protocol."

"So, let's just say this would prevent such a breach."

"This?" His ears were a little green. The Vulcan version of embarrassment.

"This."

Okay, Nyota. This is it. Time to jump and hope there's a parachute to catch you before you flatten yourself.

She turned away from him – his heat, his eyes, his breath- and headed down the short hall to his sleeping chamber, deliberately taking off her clothes as she went. She had never wanted something without getting it.

He would be no exception.

She could hear his quiet footsteps following her.

Mmm. Curiosity killed the Vulcan...or made him really, really lucky.

Naked, she slid into his bed - moving to the side furthest from the door and propped herself up on one elbow to watch him.

"That is my bed," he said.

That is probably the first inane thing he has ever said in his entire life. Kudos, Nyota!

"Yes it is, Spock. So, it would seem that if you want to get any sleep tonight, you will need to join me in here."

She waited for him to tell her to leave - for him to call security - for him to physically eject her from his room.

He did not do any of those things. Instead, he said, "Lights." The room went dark.

"Lights at one quarter," she countered.

Light suffused the room and she could see his eyebrows knitted together.

"Being able to see is part of the fun," she explained.

"Fun," he said, like he'd never heard the word before.

"Fun," she nodded.

He stood very still for a long moment.

You pushed him too far, Nyota. Too fast. Turn of the lights, turn off the lights, turn off the lights...

He pulled off his shirt and pants and boots and slid into the bed beside her.

She would get those under shorts off of him in due time.

Thank you Brain, thank you Brain, thank you Brain...