#spockxreader

“I really don’t have time for this, Jim,” you said, giving him only a quick glance.

“I didn’t even do anything yet!” he laughed, not moving a bit. He was just as stubborn as always.

“You always say that. Do you really think a lie repeated a thousand times becomes the truth?”

“I’m pretty sure it depends on who repeats it, but I don’t really care about it. What I care about is if I finally get an answer different than the usual, and I really hope I happens before the 100th time,” Jim replied slyly, his charming side present again.

You smiled lightly. Enterprise’s captain was a stubborn man indeed. He was aware of your relationship with Spock and didn’t try to interfere too much, but he still tried to get your attention from time to time, even if it was usually only in jokes and to make you laugh. You’ve been friends for years so you knew him more than he probably did himself, so you were comfortable around him, knowing he wouldn’t try anything inappropriate. You sometimes went for lunch together or brought coffee or tea to each other, and you’d probably go with him this time too if you hadn’t had so much work to finish.

You were going to tell him that, but before you said a word, both of you heard a familiar, although unusually cold, voice.

“I suppose you’ve already heard the final answer, captain,” Spock appeared behind your back, staring at Jim.

You frowned, noticing his stern look. Jim smiled at his friend, probably unaware of the subtle changes.

“Sure I did. Maybe you’ll join us? Come on, Spock, don’t make me ask twice!”

“There is no need to, my answer will still be negative.”

“Boys, I would really like to be able to concentrate right now or you’re gonna have to look for those files in the whole system,” you pointed out, even though you were doing just fine, it wasn’t your first time working under the pressure.

The reason why you cut into their conversation was a feeling that if it wasn’t stopped, it would quickly become an argument. You've known Spock for years, but rarely did you see him on a brink, it was really unusual behaviour for a distanced Vulcan who rarely showed any emotions. You took a mental note to talk to him about it sometime later, maybe after you both finished your duty for today.

Jim muttered something under his breath, but walked away, being called by one of the ship members at the same time. Spock stayed at your side, looking at him.

“You okay?” you asked the Vulcan, sorting files slowly enough to maintain a conversation.

“Of course, all my recent medical tests were...”

“I’m not talking about that. You seem uneasy. Did something happen?”

You quickly glanced at him, but Spock looked at you only for a moment before looking away.

“No. Everything is perfectly well. Do you need any help?”

“Thanks, but I’m almost done with that.”

“Very well,” was all he said before heading to his station.

You had no idea what was on his mind.

You marched into the bridge with two cups in your hands as the turbolift's door shut behind your back. You smiled happily at the crew. Enterprise was heading to Earth to dock for a few days and have a major inspection. Your cheering was too bright not to notice.

“Finally home, huh?” Jim welcomed you from his seat as you walked past him.

“Not yet – Sulu first has to land us in one piece and that’s not so easy as we all know,” you winked at the said intern, making him blush instantly.

“It was one accident!”

“But how spectacular...”

The whole team laughed – except for Spock, but that was normal.

“Thank you,” he said, taking his tea from you. Jim noticed and approached you with a grin. The surface of Earth was already visible from the windows and Sulu was taking care of the landing.

“What do you plan to do once we are down there?” Jim asked you, leaning over the chair next to Spock, much to the Vulcan's annoyance.

You shrugged, watching the green and blue surface of your planet.

“I haven’t really thought about it yet. Spock and I wanted to check out some places, but we haven’t chosen anything yet.”

“Well, I know a really nice bar near the station – it’s a must-go!” Kirk exclaimed, completely ignoring the daggers Spock was sending in his direction with a glare.

“We’ll think about that,” you assured him, sipping from your cup.

“I can show you around if you want to – I can be a very good guide on this side of the planet.”

“There will be no need for that,” Spock suddenly launched from his seat, and was standing between you and Jim.

Jim looked as surprised as you.

“Hey, it was just an offer, besides you don’t have to join us if you don’t want to...”

It looked like Spock only touched him, but Jim’s limp body hit the ground with a loud thump. Although Spock didn’t smile, you could see he was very proud of himself. You groaned loudly.

“Did you just use the nerve pinch?” you made sure, taking a deep breath to calm down and not yell at your boyfriend.

“Yes, but I can assure you the captain will be fine once he wakes up, his only inconvenience being a headache from falling, but I’m sure a few meds...”

“Spock. Come with me,” you looked at the rest of the crew as everyone was looking at you with a completely stunned expression. “Chekov, could you please take the captain back to his chair?”

“Sure, lieutenant!”

Spock moved to the turbolift with you. It was hard to understand his emotions as nothing showed on his face, but the lack of eye contact with him was enough for you.

“Are you jealous, Spock?” you asked, trying to refrain from smiling at his foolish behaviour. You stopped the lift mid-way.

“Of course not,” he assured you. “There is no reason for me to be...”

“I thought you never lie.”

He frowned, looking back at you.

“I did not...”

“So what was that?” you gestured to the bridge.

Spock frowned and for a moment looked for the right words. Explaining something that he couldn’t fully understand wasn’t an easy feat.

“I am truly sorry for the outcome of my actions,” he finally muttered quietly.

You smiled at him lightly, brushing his cheek affectionately, making him lean in to your soft touch.

“You'll have to stop being jealous of Jim. He is one of my oldest friends and I can assure you there is nothing between us and there never will be. What he does is… just the way he is. We’ve been bantering since we were just cadets, but that’s all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But, you know, it also means I would really want you to apologize to Jim once he wakes up.”

“It sounds like an appropriate action.”

The Vulcan makes a noncommittal noise. Sitting up and moving away from him, you wrack your brain for some kind of an excuse to make a hasty retreat to your quarters: you need to lie down before the pain gets really bad. “Excuse me,” you mumble.  “I’ve just realized there’s something I need to attend to. I’ll see you later, Spock.  Maybe I can stop by your quarters this evening and we can start on those lessons?” He inclines his head, and you know that he’s pleased even though his expression hasn’t changed. “I look forward to it,” he replies. You wave over your shoulder as you make your way out of the rec room and head for your quarters.  The walk feels like it takes an hour and you know by the time you reach your door that you’re weaving, but thankfully you’ve not run across anybody.  Punching in your access code, you stumble inside and make your way directly to the bathroom.  After dry heaving for several minutes, the intensity of your headache increasing further, you make your way out into the bedroom, turn the lights out, and hit the bed. Whether you fall asleep or pass out makes no difference, as long as the pain is gone when you wake up. And, blissfully, it is. You groan as consciousness comes back to you some time later.  Shifting around in bed, you realize you’ve been asleep for nearly three hours and your mouth is dry.  Ordering the lights to fifty percent, you gingerly get to your feet, stretch a little, and make your way to the kitchenette.  Your head still aches, but it’s a dull sort of pain compared to the knifing agony from earlier and it’s nothing you can’t handle. Filling a glass with water, you sip it slowly, hoping to quell the echo of nausea that’s still sitting in the pit of your stomach.  Once you’ve drained it, you make sure you look presentable and venture out of your quarters again, heading out to find Spock.  His quarters are two floors above yours, with the other officers’ quarters, and it doesn’t take you long to get there. You knock on your boyfriend’s door and he answers it within moments, stepping aside to let you in before closing the door in your wake.  His quarters are neat and orderly and strangely welcoming.  The lights are low and there are two mats laid out on the floor near the coffee table.   “Please, have a seat, Y/N,” he says crisply, gesturing to one of the mats.  “I find that a cross-legged position with one’s hands resting upturned on one’s knees is the most comfortable, but it hardly matters how you sit as long as you are able to stay in that position for the duration of your meditation.” You nod and arrange yourself on one of the mats.  You choose to sit just as Spock had indicated and you glance up at him for approval. He kneels at your side, splaying a palm at your lower back, encouraging you to sit up as straight as you can. It’s a little less comfortable than the slouch you’d been in moments ago, but you can handle it and you nod, watching as Spock takes his place, mirroring your position a short distance away in front of you. “Meditation is a practice not of thoughtlessness, as many would believe, but one of mindfulness,” he begins.  “To start your training, I will lead you in a guided meditation.  Close your eyes, ashayam, and listen to my voice.” You consider what he’s said as you let your eyelids drop, and you listen to him as he begins to talk you through a storm, violent and powerful.  As you envision the calming of the wind and rain, you come to realize they are meant to represent the stress that you’d mentioned earlier upon asking him to help teach you.  You switch tracks in your mind, replacing the stress in the metaphor with the pain you feel on a daily basis and you try to ingrain it all in your memory for use when you need it. Your first lesson goes well, and you try it out the next time you start getting a headache to no avail.  Figuring you’re just not trying hard enough or unable to focus properly just yet, you continue your lessons with Spock.  He’s patient with you and praises your efforts even though you know you must be operating at a three-year-old-Vulcan level to him. A few more lessons pass you by and your headaches, if anything, are getting worse.  One night, a couple of weeks later, one hits as you’re actively meditating with Spock and you break rank, cradling your head in your hands as darkness tugs at the edges of your vision. Spock is at your side in an instant. “What is it, ashayam?”  He asks, and you can sense the concern in his tone though you know his voice is as impassive as ever. You have to lie down.  You’re not sure that he’s heard you, or even that you’ve gotten the words out, but you attempt to stand up with his strong grip on your upper arms.  You try to focus on his lips – he’s talking but you can’t hear him over the roaring of your own heartbeat in your ears – but it’s impossible as your vision begins to gray out the closer you get to standing. The last thing you feel as your vision blacks out entirely are Spock’s arms around you, catching you and holding you close. Your consciousness is gone, but with it so, too, is the pain. You awaken several hours later to a cacophony of sounds all around you and two hushed voices at your side.  There’s a hand clasping one of yours and another suddenly lands on your shoulder, startling you.  You open your eyes and groan as you’re assaulted by lights – not overhead, mercifully, but further out in what you now realize is the med bay. Blinking, you clear your vision and look up into the concerned face of Dr. McCoy, the ship’s CMO. “Welcome back, Lieutenant,” he says softly. “You gave Spock quite the scare, fainting in his arms.” “Concern, doctor,” Spock corrects him. “Fear would not have been conducive to appropriate action.  Concern can be felt without impairing one’s ability to operate objectively.” You giggle tiredly as you see the doctor roll his eyes as he begins to scan and examine you.  You endure the light he shines in your eyes, the questions about how you’re feeling and how you felt before you passed out, squeezing his hands to test your grip strength.  What you wish you could skip out on is the confrontation that follows. “How often have you been having migraines lately?”  Dr. McCoy asks. You sigh and run a shaky hand through your hair.  For the first time in weeks you feel absolutely no trace of a headache – undoubtedly due to whatever drugs the doctor has given you – and you don’t want to tempt fate by talking about your migraines of late. “Almost every day,” you murmur, averting your gaze. “Ashayam, why would you keep that from us?”  Spock interjects. You shake your head weakly. “I’ve had them since I was fourteen,” you reply.  “Sometimes they flare up like this.” “And yet there’s nothing in your file about you being seen for headaches in the last couple of years,” the doctor presses. “When did the medication stop being effective?” You swallow thickly at the question, feeling your heart sink. “I haven’t been taking it,” you say almost inaudibly. The doctor grumbles wordlessly and Spock’s grip on your hand tightens. “Why not?”  Spock asks gently.  “Was the medication insufficient to help the pain?  Were you experiencing side effects?” “You keep this up, Spock, and I’m going to be out of a job soon,” Dr. McCoy says dryly before turning his attention back to you.  “What’s going on, Y/N?  I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.” “The meds were working okay,” you explain. “I just… I don’t like the idea of being on any medications.  My grandmother was really sick for a few years before she died.  They put her on all sorts of medications and they only seemed to make her worse.  I was afraid of something like that happening to me, so I stopped taking them…” The doctor’s expression softens a bit and he shakes his head. “You should have come to me,” he says gently. “We could have talked about it. I’m happy to answer any questions you have and to make sure you understand everything.  We can make this work for you.” Spock, who has been brooding at your side, interrupts your conversation. “Is this perhaps why you were interested in learning to meditate?”  He queries. You nod. “I thought maybe I could handle the headaches some other way,” you reply.  “I’ve heard that a lot of pain is psychological, and I thought maybe I could trick my brain into easing up on the headaches if I could just concentrated hard enough or in the right way.” “While I find your approach admirable, meditation is not a substitute for medical attention,” Spock admonishes you softly. “No, but it can be a powerful adjunct,” Dr. McCoy reasons.  “Y/N, I want you to take a few days off of work.  I’m going to discharge you to your quarters, but I’d like to check on you twice a day to ensure your headaches are being controlled.  I want to put you back on your medication, but I’d also like for you to continue your lessons with Mr. Spock.  The meditation will help you relieve stress, which will help alleviate the headaches and allow the medication to work better.  I know you aren’t keen on the idea of long-term drug therapy, but I’d like you to hear me out.  Before I let you go, I’d like to explain the treatment to you: the long-term prognosis, your options, and anything else you’re curious about.  I want us to be able to work as a team to manage your health, alright?” You tighten your grip on Spock’s hand anxiously but you nod, letting out a shaky breath.  Your compliance earns you a smile from the doctor and an uncharacteristically sentimental squeeze back from your lover. Everything happens in a flash after that. The doctor disappears for a few moments and reappears with a bottle of pills in hand.  He goes through the dosing schedule, the potential side effects, the pharmacokinetics, the long-term outlook, and answers each and every one of your questions readily.  It’s his being quick to answer that reassures you the most – you know he’s knowledgeable and experienced with the drug and with its use in patients like yourself, and that helps to ease your mind a little about being on the meds. You’re discharged to your quarters shortly following the discussion on the condition that Spock stays with you to monitor you for the rest of the day and that you’re alright with Dr. McCoy coming by to check on you periodically.  You agree easily and soon enough, Spock is walking you to your quarters, his arm around your waist to steady you as he guides you. Though the two of you have been together for a few weeks, you’re still surprised by the gentleness and care with which he tucks you into bed when you arrive in your quarters.  You’re not feeling sleepy and so he props a number of pillows under your back so you’re halfway seated and sits at your side, taking your hand in his again.  You meet his gaze and you know he’s feeling some measure of worry for you, though an eye less trained than yours would never know it. “You should have told me you wanted to learn meditation to help with your pain,” Spock says plainly.  “I would have opted for a different visualization, one that may have been more useful to you.” You smile softly at him, giving his hand a grateful squeeze. “Maybe we can try again?”  You ask.  “You heard the doctor – the meditation might help with my treatment.  I’m open to anything that means I might be able to rely less on the drugs.” And so you do.  This time, as you relax against your pillows, Spock guides you through a new visualization – one of the ocean, waves crashing over you and taking a sliver of your pain away with each recession.  While you’re not in pain at the moment, it is helping to relax you a bit anyway and you feel yourself breathing easier; even the muscles in your chest are loosening up as you concentrate on Spock’s soft voice. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been meditating when you hear a knock on the door to your quarters, but you miss Spock’s presence as soon as he’s gone.  He comes back in a moment with Dr. McCoy at his side and stands a short distance away to give the CMO some room to work beside you.  The doctor takes a seat and makes quick work of running his tricorder over your head and neck, appearing satisfied with the readings. “Any pain, Y/N?”  He asks, glancing up at you as he sets the instrument away. You shake your head, watching the doctor as he brings his hands up and rests his fingertips on your neck, gently prodding at the muscles there and in your shoulders, making you hiss as he elicits some tenderness. “No auras?”  He continues questioning as his fingers press into more of your muscles, making you groan softly. “No,” you answer, shifting and shrugging your shoulders to shake them out a bit as he finishes his exam. He makes a noncommittal noise and glances between you and Spock as you watch him, waiting for his verdict. “You’re very tense,” he explains.  “I could give you a shot of a muscle relaxant, but seeing as you’re not keen on the idea of medication, I think a massage would be the better way to go.  We have a therapist in the med bay, but short of something so formal, I’m sure a good, old fashioned shoulder rub from your friendly neighborhood Vulcan would work just as well and then you don’t even need to leave your quarters.” Your gaze flickers over to Spock, who inclines his head in polite agreement.  You’d been unsure whether he would agree to something so potentially intimate when Dr. McCoy had suggested it, but now that he’s agreed you find yourself relaxing. You turn your attention back to the CMO, urging him wordlessly to continue. “I think that with some rest and a regular med routine, the meditation and massage should help to keep you headache-free,” the doctor concludes.  “I want you to come by and see me regularly for a couple of weeks so we can make sure you’re on track, but after that as long as the treatment holds, you should be fine to get back to a normal routine.” “Will I be on the medication forever?” You ask lightly. “We’ll see,” the doctor replies.  “Migraines often change over time, sometimes they go away all together.  After you’ve been stable for a while, we can try to wean you off of the medication to see if the headaches come back.  If they do, we’ll treat you again and try it again another time.  If they don’t, we’ll go from there.” You nod, satisfied, and smile.  This time, the upturning of your lips is much easier and more genuine, and you hold out a hand to shake the doctor’s. “Thank you,” you say gratefully.  “This is still a lot for me, but I think I’ll be okay.” “You’re going to be just fine, darlin’,” the doctor assures you with a glance up at Spock.  “I may be questioning your choices for a support network a little bit, but between myself and Mr. Spock, I think you’ll do great.” You chuckle and nod, watching the doctor take his leave after he’s reminded you to call on him any time you need.  Spock inclines his head in thanks, too, and immediately takes up the CMO’s place on the bed. Over the next several days, he’s incredibly kind, gentle, and thoughtful with you.  It may not appear so to an observer, but you can feel the humanity in his touches as he massages your shoulders, easing the tension and the aches there.  You know how incredibly intimate touch is to a Vulcan, and you know that you’ll never be able to fully express how grateful you are for Spock’s willingness to be so close with you, so personal.  Even when you do try, he just informs you that he’s doing all that he can for your health because he cares for you and wants nothing more than for you to remain well and happy. He's supportive, too.  You struggle sometimes to force yourself to take your medications, to go and check in with Dr. McCoy, but he’s always there to encourage you, though sometimes it’s more matter-of-factly than it is warmly.  You don’t hold it against him – you know sometimes you’re a little unreasonable – but the tears sometimes come.  When they do, he apologizes, and he’s as human as you’ve ever seen him in those moments. You continue your meditation lessons, and eventually you become more familiar with the process.  Spock is pleased with your progress and he tells you as much as he continues to walk you through the visualization daily until you’re happy to manage it on your own.   Weeks pass and you’re getting better at managing your condition.  Your headaches are much fewer and further between, and when they do come they’re an afterthought compared to the pain you’d been experiencing before.  You’re still warming up to the whole routine, but for all of the anxiety the pain has brought you, it’s also brought you and Spock closer together. The two of you are talking one night as he’s giving you yet another back rub, his hands gliding easily over your muscles, supple beneath his touch, aided by the fragrant oil he’s applied to your skin. “Your progress has been admirable, to say the least,” Spock quips as his thumbs find twin trigger points in either of your traps, making you wince.  “I’m proud of you, ashayam.” You blush a little, opening the eye that’s upturned where your head is lying sideways on your crossed arms, looking up at Spock. “Thank you,” you murmur.  “I’m kind of proud of me, too.” Spock tips his head in silent support of you and you close your eyes once more, smiling softly.  Though his massage is firm and none too gentle over the particularly tight spots, you find yourself nearly drifting off nevertheless.  You’re on the precipice into slumber when Spock’s voice cuts through the haze. “This may not be the right time for me to confess something so salient,” he begins lightly.  “But if my understanding of human feelings and circumstance serves, I believe there is seldom an ideal time for such an expression.  I ashaya du.” You don’t speak a lick of Vulcan, or any language other than Federation standard, for that matter, but the meaning is clear.  You tense up beneath Spock’s touch and he notices immediately. “My apologies, Y/N,” he says plainly.  “It was my belief that you felt the same way.” You shift around, scrambling up off of your belly and onto your knees on the bed, facing him.  You look at him for several long and pregnant moments, your eyes searching his face, looking for some, any sign of true sincerity. You find it in the thinly-veiled hurt and confusion in his eyes and your heart leaps up into your throat as you throw you arms around him, clinging to him, nuzzling into his neck. “I love you, too, Spock,” you say shakily, relief plain as day in your tone.  “I mean, I’d hoped that the way you’ve been here for me meant love, but hearing you say it means so much to me.  Thank you for the final proof.” You feel him move to rest his cheek atop your head in an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture and you sigh happily as you stay locked in his embrace.  You find your feelings on your headaches sorting themselves out in your mind, and you realize with a soft chuckle that you can’t regret any of what’s happened.  Your pain has brought Spock so close that you’d do it all over in a heartbeat, though with him at your side now you know you’ll never have to worry about it again.

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“Y/N,” you looked up from work and turned your attention to Spock who was entering the room.

“Spock?”

“Happy Birthday,” He said softly, placing a small pot on your desk. You marveled at the ornate flower before you. You reached your fingers out to touch the petals, colored a bright orange with deep magenta splotches around the edges. They were so bright compared to the almost black stem that supported it.

“Oh, Spock. This is, beautiful. Where did you find it,” you turned to look up at him.

“Mr. Sulu and the other botanist allowed me to care for it. I grew it.”

“This is such a lovely flower Spock,” you gently reached out with two fingers for his which he quickly accepted.

“It reminds me of you,” he confessed quietly.

You let out a short laugh, “Are you trying to say that I’m fragile and high maintenance?”

“No,” Spock’s voice had an edge to it. It shocked you and you glanced up into his eyes, which had a hint of hurt. “This variety of orchid comes from Vulcan. And it is a particularly robust even by our standards. It can survive in almost any environment, in fact, it’s common to see this orchid growing on rocks.” You looked at him gobsmacked. “They don’t just survive, they thrive when the harsh Vulcan environment is all but kind. They absorbing water from the air and bloom in the midst of sandstroms, they are strong and beautiful. So, I find my logic sound in say that it reminds me of you.”

“Oh, Spock,” you sighed standing up to hug him. You pulled him in tight, only leaning back to place a kiss on his cheek. “That is so wonderful of you to say.” His arms wrapped around you firmly, squeezing slightly when you pushed your face into his chest.

“Well, Vulcans do not lie.”

You giggled and pushed back to look at him catching a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “I guess they don’t,” you said offering him your pointer and middle finger just as he had taught you. He enclosed your hand in his as leaned in and captured your lips in his. You pushed back, all too welcoming to a rare, but wonderful treat. He pulled back, his dark eyes boring into yours as he rested his forehead on you. “Happy birthday, Ashyam.”

It was a long walk from the botany labs to the research lab on the lower levels. Now it was even a longer with the added weight of a large box filled with samples, plants and a few PADD with care notes and research notes.

You set it down a minute catching your breath. Leaning against the wall you listen to peoples footsteps passing. You only opened your eyes when a tall shadow stepped into your light. You looked to be met with one of your commanding officers. “Commander Spock! You straightened up and saluted haphazardly.

“At ease Lieutenant,” he replied evenly, eyes staring into yours.

You looked around with some nervousness, “What can I do for you, Commander Spock?”

“I saw you struggling with that box. May I carry it for you,” he asked innocently and you began waving your hands in front of you.

“No, Sir, it’s alright! I have it it’s just super heavy, you went reaching for the box but Spock grabbed it first lifting it was a graceful ease.

“I insist. It is not heavy, I am stronger than I look.” You tried to give an excuse insisting to him that he should hand it over. “Lieutenant Y/L/N, I do mean it when I say it is not heavy. Being part Vulcan, means I have superior strength to humans. Where are you headed?”

You gaped at him a minute amazed at his kindness. “Research labs.” You walked side by side in silence.

As you stood beside him in a turbo-lift you decided it was too awkward to be silent all the way. “Thank you, Mr. Spock,” you muttered.

“It is my pleasure. I believe these samples have to do with the attempts of sustainable farming on starships and colonies in case of emergencies?” He asked politely, “you are one of the laboratory technicians, correct?”

“Yes, yes! I am! It’s more for colonies than us, Sir. We are testing it out here more for a chance we might ever send out a generational vessel into the farther reaches of space. It some pretty exciting stuff really. That and we get to mess with plants.” You smiled up at him and he looked towards you with a neutral expression. But you noticed something, the way his eyes sparkled, the same way they would if he’s been a full human smiling. Spock was, in his own special way smiling at you and you were melting.

As you reached the labs, Spock delicately placed the box on your desk. You expected him to leave but he seemed stuck to his spot. “I-I there anything I can do for you, sir?” You asked after a few minutes of you silently unpacking the box.

“Yes, I would like you to answer a question I am having,” his voice seemed to get softer. You nodded, encouraging him to continue. “Will you join me for dinner in my quarters tomorrow evening?”

Your heart stopped, or was it beating so hard you could no longer feel it? You didn’t know. All you knew is that you excited. You never knew that Spock had affection towards you, but on the other hand, you didn’t think he knew that you shared feelings.

“Y/N, are you okay? H-have I overstepped some boundary?” Oh no! You had been quiet too long.

“Spock, I-I have the late shift tomorrow evening.” you supported out not being able to sort your thoughts fast enough.

Spock’s features seemed to have faltered. Taken back he spoke, “Oh, I see.”

“But,” you called, cutting in. “I’m free Friday. If you would want to meet then.”

Spock nodded slowly, “Is Friday, at 1900 hours agreeable?”

You beamed at him nodding, “I find it very agreeable, Spock.”