Fic: Joyride 2?
I did this instead of homework, ugh I faiiil.
Title: Joyride [2/?]
Author: witblogi
Fandom: STAR TREK
Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Rating: PG
Warnings: (still?)BAMF!Spock, you are warned
Summary: The ride back + possibly an intriguing twist?!
Notes: The sequel to my fic Joyride. It's been bothering me for a while, so, this is me trying my hand at a series. I'm terrified, it may not be any good, and yeah.
Also, I'm in the market for a beta/someone I can talk about my ideas and spock/uhura or general fandom or ZQ/ZS or anything ST related really with via email. If you're interested email me at witblogi[at]gmail[dot]com
Her legs were stiff when they finally stopped, her bottom ached, but she didn’t have any attention to pay to her own ailments at the moment. She reluctantly pulled her arms back, stretching her shoulders and sliding away from the unbelievably welcome warmth she had been molded against.
“ The conference will commence shortly.” Spock stood, carefully extracting himself from the bike and pulling off his helmet. Uhura watched mesmerized by the way his hair was left in disarray, ever so slightly sweaty at the temples. He looked down at her intently, and she swallowed hard in response.
“ Do you require assistance?” he offered her his hand, palm up. She stared down at it with surprise; Vulcans usually didn’t encourage hand-to-hand contact, “ Cadet Uhura?”
Uhura’s head snapped up, he was waiting for her to get off the bike. She pulled her own helmet off hurriedly and slipped off the seat, there was no more room for her to act like this shocked love struck deer in the headlights creature; she had to get a hold of herself.
“ I thought I told you to call me Nyota,” she leveled her gaze with his as they stood shoulder to shoulder on the curb. He raised an eyebrow at her in what she could have sworn was a mischievous manner before nodding and setting off at a brisk pace down the street. He raised a hand as they walked, straightening his hair in a startlingly casual manner as if he did it all the time.
She tried to remember if she’d ever seen him do it before but couldn’t recall. She’d never given him that much thought before, always too focused on the course work rather than the rather unappealing instructor.
He held the large glass door of the hotel hosting the conference open for her in an oddly human gesture. She feared, as she passed him close enough to feel his warmth, that she would never go back to being an oblivious student again.
The uneasy mood that had started the conference has dissipated entirely by the time the first lecture finished. Uhura was too caught up in the theory, the people, the sights and sounds of new languages all around her. It was intoxicating. Spock, despite his chaperone status was the perfect companion for her; advising when she was torn between events, timing their activities so she had the maximum amount of exposure to everything she wanted and generally didn’t get in the way.
She was still waxing poetic about the warbling double palate vowels the Xiric people were able to create when they finally got back to the bike.
“ Just think, with maybe an inserted upper bridge palate humans and other singular arched species could make those accents! It would be so simple, and the federation could benefit expon-” she her words came to a stop when her eyes landed on the machine waiting for them. She’d put the entire surreal experience of getting there out of her mind for the day. Now she was faced with that terrifying flopping feeling in her stomach that seemed to reject the idea that Spock was something other than an empty hearing and teaching machine that occasionally gave her intelligent feed back.
“ Nyota?” her name from his lips… maybe that had been a mistake. It hadn’t felt like it at the time but now as she looked at him, really looked…he had brown eyes, so brown and deep and dark but warm she could almost feel it and surely would once she was wrapped around him flying again-
She blinked and cleared her throat, “ Sorry, I just… lost my train of thought,” she eyed the bike wearily, it was all its fault she’d never have begun thinking of Spock as Spock and not The Commander if it wasn’t for its sleek powerful design.
Spock started up the bike without sparing her another glance, and she clutched her helmet watching as he once again straddled the machine. She couldn’t let this become a thing, not Spock, not the bike, she had to ignore those tantalizing flips her heart was doing, grab some firm control and focus.
She slipped into place behind him without any instruction this time, her helmet fitting just as snuggly as before. She pulled her arms around him tightly, willing herself not the feel, not to think-
He gave her warning as they took off once more, pulling into the high velocity traffic stream. She liked it there, where the world whipped by too fast for her to even contemplate how damaging romantic notions about her commanding officer, instructor, and maybe tentative future friend and colleague could be to her ambitions, career, education…
“ You have been uncommonly silent since we began our commute back to campus. Is something bothering you?” Spock asked some ways into their trip. Uhura blinked, his voice in her ears roused her from where her thoughts had drifted and pulled in the wind.
“ No. No, just enjoying the ride.” She adjusted her grip on her arms and breathed in the plastic smell of the helmet encasing her head, “ It’s very… exhilarating,” she frowned at the word, it didn’t fit properly all the emotions and thoughts that were swirling around her head but it would have to do for now.
Her head was against his shoulder again, when had that happened? She forced herself not to jerk away from him, not to react, he’d said it was alright before and so it should be. Now conscious of her own actions and how oppressive the silence was between their breathing she scrabbled for conversation.
“ I sort of wish I had my own, you know?” she winced, “ Bike that is. It would be useful getting around the city, waiting for the shuttle takes so much time,” she was moderately pleased with her resulting statement, coherence for the most part, sensible, logical.
“ Personalized methods of transportation have equal negative and positive resultant outcomes,” he seemed dispassionate on the subject, but she didn’t really know… it was amazing how much information you could glean off of a mostly impassive face.
“ Well, I wouldn’t mind learning how to drive a hoverbike, even if I never own one.” She commented absently, “ I can imagine going on a long drive would be almost therapeutic,” there was a long pause, in which the calm slip slide of the scenery around them proved her point for her.
“ Do you require therapy?” he asked finally and she laughed against his shoulder.
“ Yes, and no. Everyone requires therapy, Spock. We just do it in different ways. Maybe what I’m saying would relate more to meditation for you?” she knew he meditated, all Vulcans meditate. He was quiet again save for the rustle of his jacket as his back and shoulders move against her in turning the bike.
They were approaching the campus, the tall façade of Cochrane Hall and the arch of the library pushed against the horizon as they zoomed forward. The sky was dappled pinks and oranges as the sun set over the bay, it was a beautiful end to a fascinating day.
“ I am able to instruct you on the operation of this vehicle outside of class should you truly wish to learn.” He said rather suddenly, catching her off guard enough that it takes a moment to process his words.
Her fingers felt numbed, her heart picked up a new rhythm, her mind spinning over all the connotations that came along with that suggestion, all the angles the idea sprouted in her brain.
Before she can respond, however, they are stopped to pull off their helmets and flash their IDs to gain access into the campus without being redirected to the visitor’s entrance. Her mind is made up before they even start moving again, and she spends the rest of the duration of their ride back to the garage trying to futilely reason with herself.
They disembark from the machine, him graceful, her awkward, but eventually she is handing back the helmet that had been her property for the day and looking up into his unusual features.
She swallows hard but sets her weight, tosses her hair over her shoulder and says," I want to learn,"
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