#solok

Chapter 3: Disruption

[ SOLOK POV ]

Solok sat in the dim solitude of his quarters, fingers steepled, eyes closed. The hum of the ship was distant, a background presence he had learned long ago to tune out. Meditation required focus. Control. It was the foundation of Vulcan discipline.

And yet…

He exhaled slowly. His mind should have been empty. He should have been contemplating the principles of logic, reinforcing his mental fortitude. Instead, an image surfaced—her.

It was intolerable.

Your face, your voice, the way you stood so defiantly before him, refusing to yield to his dismissal. The way your hands had moved with such precision as you worked, utterly absorbed in the task before you. The way your uniform fit against your—

Solok’s eyes snapped open, his jaw tightening.

Illogical. Unacceptable.

Yet, no matter how many times he pushed the thought away, it returned. The memory of your fingers brushing against his own, the electric jolt that had shot up his spine, the way you had looked at him afterward, as if you had noticed something shift within him.

His breath was steady, controlled, but inside, something had shifted – something he could not rationalize.

He had spent years reinforcing the superiority of Vulcan intellect, the weakness of human sentiment. And yet, here he was, in his own quarters, unable to silence the intrusive thoughts of you.

Your eyes, sharp and filled with challenge. Your lips, curling into that insufferable smirk whenever you caught him off guard. The way you carried yourself – so at ease in your imperfection, so maddeningly confident despite your human shortcomings.

He had dismissed you. Removed you from the project to prove his point. And yet, you had refused to leave quietly. You had proven him wrong. Again.

And somehow… somehow, that was more captivating than it had any right to be.

Solok exhaled sharply, pushing to his feet.

Meditation was impossible.

This would not do. He needed to regain control of his thoughts. The illogic of the situation was clear—dwelling on an anomaly did not serve him. A distraction would be required.

Without another word, he exited his quarters, his steps measured, purposeful. But instead of returning to the bridge or the research lab, he found himself heading toward the observation deck. Not the one commonly used by the crew—no, he required solitude. There was a hidden section, tucked away near the secondary hull, where the stars stretched endlessly before him, undisturbed by the presence of others.

It was foolish, perhaps, but the quiet expanse of space had always aided in recalibrating his thoughts.

As the doors hissed open, he stepped into the dimly lit deck, the vastness of the cosmos spreading before him. He clasped his hands behind his back, inhaling slowly, forcing his mind to align with reason.

And yet, even here, in the cold silence of the void, your presence lingered.

This was… concerning.

[ READER POV ]

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, arms folded behind your head. The soft hum of the ship’s systems filled the quiet of your quarters, but it wasn’t enough to lull you to sleep.

Because he wouldn’t leave your mind.

Solok.

That smug, infuriating, impossible Vulcan.

You exhaled sharply, rolling onto your side. You had never cared much for his opinion, but something about the way he had looked at you tonight... No, not looked, observed – it stuck with you. That unreadable expression, the way he had hesitated before speaking, as if struggling against something. And then that damned touch.

It had been brief, but not forgettable. His hand had jerked away as if burned, and for just a fraction of a second, something had flickered in his gaze.

And that shouldn’t have mattered to you.

But it did.

You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. This was ridiculous. You had sparred with Vulcans in debates before, had clashed with arrogant officers, had gone toe to toe with men and women who thought themselves superior. None of them had ever made your heart race the way it had when Solok looked at you like that.

You turned again, punching your pillow, willing sleep to come. It didn’t.

With a sigh, you sat up, running a hand through your hair. If sleep wasn’t happening, maybe a walk would help. It has to. The ship was quiet this time of night, most of the crew off duty. Maybe you’d grab some tea, clear your head, and let it go.

Dressed in casual off-duty wear, you slipped out into the corridors, walking aimlessly, letting the ship’s soft, pulsing lights guide you. It was strangely peaceful – until you found yourself near an observation deck.

You paused, glancing at the entrance. You hadn’t meant to come here, but something tugged at you.

The doors hissed open, and that’s when you saw him.

Solok stood near the vast stretch of reinforced glass, his back to you, hands clasped behind him. The stars illuminated him in soft silver light, casting sharp shadows along the contours of his face, his shoulders. He looked almost… regal like this. Still, composed – except for the tension in his stance.

For some reason, you didn’t think he had come here for peace.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms – “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

He stiffened slightly – so slightly that if you weren’t watching him closely, you might not have noticed. But you were watching him closely.

He didn’t turn immediately. Instead, he said – “I did not expect company.”

You smirked – “I’ll take that as a ‘leave me alone.’”

A pause. Then – “Your assumptions are often flawed.”

The silence between you stretched. For a moment, you thought Solok might walk away, retreat behind that unshakable Vulcan logic and dismiss you the way he always did so before he could do that you'd do it yourself, you shifted to start walking away.

“Stay.” – Solok said.

You blinked – “...what?”

He glanced at you, his expression as composed as ever, but there was a deliberateness in his voice – “You sought clarity here. As did I. It would be… inefficient to abandon the attempt.”

You studied him for a moment. His posture was rigid, his hands still neatly clasped behind his back, but there was something in his stance that felt less like cold dismissal and more like uncertainty.

Solok was second-guessing himself. That is new.

“…alright” you said finally, stepping closer to the viewport.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then you asked – “Do Vulcans ever get overwhelmed?”

Solok glanced at you then. A brief flicker of his bright eyes, before they returned to the stars. “Vulcans do not experience emotion as humans do.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then, softly – “We do not get overwhelmed. But there are moments where clarity is… elusive.”

You tilted your head, watching him. That was the closest he’d ever come to admitting something bothered him.

“That's why you’re here?”

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t deny it either.

You studied him in the quiet. His sharp features, the way the starlight played along his face. You had always thought him severe – too rigid, too caught up in his own logic. But here, in this moment, he looked almost… conflicted. As if something was weighing on him.

And somehow, impossibly, you wanted to be the one to shake it loose.

“Why do you think so little of humans?” – You asked.

Solok turned his head slightly, studying you with that calculating gaze – “I do not think ‘little’ of humans. I merely acknowledge their limitations.”

You scoffed – “That’s just a fancy way of saying you look down on us.”

His brow arched slightly – “It is an assessment based on logic and evidence.”

“And yet, here I am, standing beside you. You haven’t dismissed me yet.”

He didn’t answer immediately. You watched as something shifted behind his eyes, something careful and measured.

“You are… competent” he admitted, as if the words were a reluctant concession.

You smiled – “High praise, coming from you.”

He exhaled through his nose, an almost-sigh, the closest thing to amusement you had ever heard from him – “Your species is unpredictable. Emotionally volatile. Often reckless.”

“And yet?”

A pause – “And yet, you persist.”

You tilted your head, intrigued – “That sounds almost like admiration, Captain.”

He turned away, eyes back on the stars – “It is merely an observation.”

You let the silence settle again, but something had shifted. There was no hostility, no smug superiority... just curiosity. A reluctant, undeniable curiosity.

Solok found himself watching you again, though this time, his thoughts strayed to… other matters.

Your off-duty attire was different from the standard uniform – sleek, fitted, yet entirely appropriate. And yet, his gaze traced the contours of your figure, lingering in places it should not.

His mind refused to discard you.

You were standing beside him, speaking something about humans, their adaptability, their resilience but the words barely registered. He should have been listening, offering some cutting remark or logical rebuttal, but his focus had splintered, pulled toward something far more illogical.

The curve of your throat. The delicate dip at the base of it, where his gaze lingered longer than it should.

The subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the way the soft fabric of your off-duty attire shifted with each movement. It was form-fitting, designed for comfort, but to him, it was an invitation to thoughts that had no place in his mind.

His eyes traced lower – swiftly, efficiently, cataloging details with an almost scientific precision. The way the material hugged your waist, accentuating proportions that were… fascinating. The slope of your hips, the defined shape of your legs. It was all there, presented so casually, so unknowingly, and yet his mind seized on it, unwilling to let go.

He could imagine– no.

His jaw tightened. He forced his hands to remain clasped behind his back, resisting the inexplicable urge to reach forward, to test the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers.

He was being undisciplined.

And yet, he wondered if he stepped closer, would you notice the shift in his breathing? Would you tilt your head just so, granting him a better view of the exposed line of your neck? If he allowed himself the indulgence of touch, would you–

“You know” you said lightly – “for someone so committed to proving Vulcan superiority, you sure spend a lot of time watching me.”

His gaze snapped to yours, unreadable but sharp – “I do not—”

You scoffed – “You do.”

His lips parted slightly, as if preparing a rebuttal, but none came. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if calculating his next move.

But you didn’t let him find an escape.

You leaned in, lowering your voice – “What are you trying so hard not to think about, Captain?”

His throat moved in a slow swallow.

You shouldn’t have enjoyed this so much – seeing him hesitate, seeing that carefully constructed wall of his crack, just a little. But you did. Because for all his smugness, for all his logical superiority Solok was not unaffected.

Solok did not realize he had moved closer.

It was not a conscious decision. It was not premeditated. It was not logical.

And yet, there he was... so near to you that the warmth of your body seeped into his own, your scent filling his senses, your breath feathering against his skin.

He should have stepped back. He should have reasserted control, reinforced his discipline, reminded himself that this was not what he wanted.

But he did want. Instead, he inhaled.

The scent of you – subtle, sweet, provocative – washed over him and something inside him stirred. It was primal, instinctual, something buried deep within the Vulcan biology he had spent a lifetime mastering.

He exhaled slowly, as if testing the way your presence affected him. His hand hovered just shy of your hip, his other curling at his side as if physically restraining himself from something he dared not name.

“This is… troubling” he murmured, his voice unusually low.

You stiffened, but you did not pull away – “...what is?”

His gaze flickered to your throat, to the gentle pulse there. His fingers twitched. He could feel the heat of your skin, so close, so tempting.

He was losing his senses.

And yet, for the first time in his life, he did not care.

“You are… a suitable mate” – the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them.

Silence.

He felt the sharp intake of your breath, the way your body got warmer under the weight of his statement. He should not have said it. It was too much, too intimate, too–

His chest rose and fell, his control unraveling thread by thread. His gaze traced the shape of your jaw, the curve of your lips, the way your eyes searched his as if trying to understand how.

Then, like a sudden jolt, clarity struck him.

A human.

He was losing his senses over a human.

His breath hitched, and he wrenched himself back so suddenly it felt like tearing himself from a force he could not name.

His hands clenched at his sides, his expression shifting from something dangerously unguarded to something terrified.

“I—” He swallowed, voice unsteady, then hardened – “This is unacceptable.”

You blinked, confusion flashing in your eyes. “What...?”

He straightened, fists tight, his mind racing to rebuild the walls that had just come crashing down.

“I am losing my senses” he said, his voice colder than before, sharper – “Because of a human”

He had not meant to say it. But it was true.

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew his mistake.

Your expression changed – shock, then hurt, then something unreadable.

You stepped back. The warmth between you vanished.

“…I see” you said quietly. Your tone was steady, but he could hear the tension beneath it, the sting of his words.

He had wounded you.

The realization struck him deeper than he anticipated.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to clear it, then turned on your heel and walked away.

He did not stop you.

Because if he did, if he said anything else... he was afraid he might betray himself again.

Solok did not move.

He stood frozen, his body rigid, his hands still clenched at his sides as he watched you walk away.

Your face, your expression – it was burned into his mind. The flicker of hurt in your eyes, the subtle way your lips pressed together, the faint tremor in your breath before you turned from him.

His chest ached.

A strange, foreign sensation gripped him.. something deep, something wrong. A tightness in his ribs, a sting in his very core that logic could not explain.

You were hurt.

Because of him.

The thought sent a wave of deep, gnawing anguish through his mind.

He had wanted you. That was the undeniable truth. His instincts had taken hold, his control had faltered, and he had let slip the one thing he had spent his entire life avoiding.

But you were human.

That had been his justification, his final defense. If he did not acknowledge it, if he refused to let it manifest, it would cease to exist.

Wouldn’t it?

But as he stood there, unmoving, watching you disappear down the corridor, he felt it linger.

He felt you linger.

And for the first time in his life, he hated his own logic.

[ · · · ]

You reached your quarters, locking the door behind you before pressing your back against it.

Your breathing was shaky. Your hands trembled at your sides.

And then, finally, your composure broke.

Tears welled in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as you brought a hand up to your mouth, stifling the sound of your own heartbreak.

You understood now.

Solok did have feelings for you. He had wanted you, even if only for a moment. His hesitation, his nearness, the way his breath had lingered at your throat – it had all been real.

But in the end, it hadn’t mattered.

Because you were human.

And he could not bring himself to choose you.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, barely audible in the silence of your quarters.

You had never thought it would hurt this much.

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