Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters. Spock is hot. He should have some sex.
Title: Stuck In the Middle With You 1/4
Author:T’Prahn
Series: TOS
Pairing: S/U
Rating: NC-17
Archiving: Ask permission, please.
Notes: “Fuck your mother” is a Russian expression, an all-purpose intensifier like “Wow!” or “Holy shit!”.
Summary: A soft landing, Spock says all the wrong things, an overly eager Tellarite Ambassador and a malfunctioning turbolift.
Chapter One
Lieutenant Uhura exited the turbolift at the bridge a bit early for the alpha shift, planning to run a diagnostic on one of the subspace frequency circuits before turning in her report to Spock. A tiny distortion had appeared forty-eight hours ago that had no real effect on reception but it was driving her crazy. Sulu often accused her of being every bit a perfectionist as Spock but she didn’t care. Spock was a meticulous supervisor and she knew he would appreciate her initiative. The Enterprise was hosting a Tellarite delegation in a week and Uhura wanted to make sure that any subspace communications from Starfleet reached the ship without any interference.
Plus, she thought with an internal grin, she liked to please him. His respect was hard-won and three of her seven commendations had come from Spock. Only Scotty had more from the first officer.
As she rounded the corner of the console, she was concentrating on the problem with the circuits and didn’t see the pair of long legs protruding from the access port beneath. She would have probably been able to side-step them at the last moment had not their owner decided to slide himself out of the port and sit up just as she registered him too late to stop her forward momentum. The toe of her boot connected with the sole of his and down she went. Her padd flew in one direction and her stylus in another. She let out a little shriek and tried to stop her fall by grabbing the edge of the console and missed. She felt that curious weightlessness that one experiences when they know that hitting the ground is inevitable. She closed her eyes and prepared herself for the jolt, praying that she wouldn’t bite her tongue.
She didn’t hit the deck, however. She landed on something much softer.
She opened her eyes and found herself looking into a pair of heavy-lidded chestnut eyes. She was literally nose-to-nose with Commander Spock. Neither of them moved. She had a bizarre dual sensation of paralysis and of an acutely heightened awareness of her other senses. She could feel the warmth of his exhaling breath, the cool rush of air as he inhaled and became conscious that they were so close that they were breathing the same air. Her forearms were pressed to his chest and she could feel the Vulcan heat of his body all along hers as she lay sprawled across him.
And oh! She could smell him: the faint scent of copper, a spice (cloves?) and even more faintly, musk. His smell was just so completely…male.
Her entire universe condensed into this pocket of heat and scent, this bubble of sensation, those chestnut eyes. She hadn’t realized how long his lashes were. Up close, his lips looked full and soft. He tilted his head and for a dizzying moment, she thought he would kiss her.
“Miss Uhura, for a person who carries herself with such grace, I am beginning to conclude that you are exceedingly clumsy.”
She felt his chest vibrate beneath her palms with the smooth baritone of his voice.
“Wha—what?”
“It seems that I am forever lifting you from the floor. You have this unique ability to fall from a seated position or be thrown across the bridge at the slightest turbulence.”
She blinked. “It’s that stupid chair!”
“Lieutenant, a chair is an inanimate object and therefore cannot possess an intellect that would allow it to be ‘stupid’.”
“Mr. Spock, I have made repeated requests for a replacement chair that fits my body better so that I don’t continue to ‘fall from a seated position’, as you say.” She could feel his hip pressed against her pubic bone.
“Fits your body?” Spock frowned in confusion. One of his legs was between her thighs and he was becoming aware that he should either shift its position or lift her off of him.
“I am a bit more…generously proportioned than the person who designed that chair anticipated. Even without turbulence, I constantly have to brace myself against the console to keep from sliding off.”
Neither of them had moved from the positions they assumed when she first fell. She still lay on top of him, her forearms propped on his chest, their legs entangled. Her uniform gaped at the neck revealing her deep cleavage. He gazed into her eyes for such a long time that she thought again that he might kiss her.
The smooth chocolate column of her neck was very distracting. He was finding it increasingly difficult to follow the conversation. He pulled back a little and dropped his eyes briefly to the gap at her bodice. He swallowed hard. His eyes returned to hers.
“Generously proportioned?”
“Not there. Well, there, too but I meant, um, back there.” She couldn’t seem to pull her eyes from his.
“Back there?” His voice was very low now. It resonated through her body.
“Yes. Where you are rather firmly gripping me with your left hand.”
“Oh. I see.” He relaxed his fingers and moved his hand slowly until it rested next to its mate in the small of her back. They lay as they were, staring into each other’s eyes. Uhura could feel the rapid beating of his heart and feel herself rise and fall with his chest as he breathed. His hands were hot against her back.
“Would you two like to be alone?”
Uhura whipped her head around and saw Captain Kirk standing at their feet with his hands on his hips and a stern look on his face. Dr. McCoy stood next to him, grinning with all of his teeth, his hands behind his back, rocking forward onto his toes with delight. McCoy never did get the ‘rest’ part of ‘parade rest’. Scotty stood behind the Captain, horrified.
Spock rolled smoothly to his feet, carrying Uhura effortlessly with him. He set her on her feet arm’s length away and tugged down his tunic.
“A minor accident, Captain. Miss Uhura, you appear undamaged,” he said, not looking at her.
“And you know that because you gave her a thorough examination,” remarked the doctor.
“For your information, doctor, the Lieutenant and I were discussing the inadequateness of her chair. She is deceptively lightweight—“
“Deceptively! Just what are you trying to say, Mr. Spock? That I look fat?” exclaimed Uhura.
“Aha! You did examine her, you old dog.”
“Doctor, please. Miss Uhura, I was merely agreeing with your own analysis that you are more generously proportioned than the average woman of your height and weight and that perhaps a chair with restraints or arms might be more appropriate for your body type.”
“So I’m clumsy and fat.”
“You are digging a very deep hole Mr. Spock,” intoned Scott. “Yer best to quit while yer ahead”.
“If we are to prevent further mishaps, perhaps we should measure—“
Kirk widened his eyes and gave a tiny shake of his head. McCoy was making slicing motions at his neck with his fingers and Scotty stood straight with his fists clenched at his sides, a wince frozen on his face as if anticipating a blow.
Uhura glared at Spock for a long moment then spun on her heel and faced the other three men. They immediately adopted innocent poses and stepped quickly out of her way as she stalked across the bridge to retrieve her padd.
“For a second there, I thought I was gonna have to duck”, McCoy whispered.
Mr. Scott shivered and said, “Aye.”
“Spock, I suggest you stay out of her way for at least a week,” murmured Kirk, watching as Uhura snatched her stylus from the unfortunate ensign who had found it for her. “Maybe more like a month. I’ve seen what she can do with a Garcanion dagger.”
“Shh! Here she comes,” hissed Scotty.
Kirk, Scott and McCoy made a show of examining a spot on the deck, each commenting on its size or shape or color as she approached. Spock took a tiny involuntary step back when she stopped in front of him. With a final glare, she very gracefully sank to her chair, crossed her legs and began her diagnostic, icily ignoring the men standing behind her.
His eyes large, McCoy mouthed, “A year.”
End Chapter 1
T’Prahn
12/05
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