Lawful Obedience, Part Nineteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Star Trek, Spock-McCoy)
Rating: PG-13

LINK TO PART ONE

~

Uhura took her time as she walked by Lee's side. He didn't seem to mind the leisurely pace; in fact, he seemed to enjoy it. He even kept her arm in his.

They talked—oh, about all sorts of things. She described her home town to him and treated him to examples of Swahili. In return, he described Virginia…or, at least, Virginia as it was in his day.

He talked a bit about his family and friends—but not too much. And Uhura didn't think it right to press him. She didn't know to what extent he was still grieving them. But she talked of her own family freely and got him to laugh with some of the stories from her childhood.

Then, with some prompting, she convinced him to talk about his army experiences. To her surprise, however, he told her about the Mexican War rather than the American Civil War.

"And so there I was, wedged underneath the log," he said, grinning, "with every insect you care to imagine crawling over me and biting me and Mexican soldiers constantly parading to the spring for fresh water. Any number of them sat on the log I was hiding beneath."

Uhura laughed. "But, since they didn't catch you, it sounds like a successful scouting mission!"

"It was that," he admitted. "And, having survived it, I'll admit that it makes for a good story."

She gave him a mischievous look. "But you didn't feel that way at the time?"

"No," he said decidedly.

They were almost to her quarters now. Once they reached it, she paused outside the door. "This is my cabin," she said. "I don't suppose it'd be proper to invite you in?"

He smiled ruefully and shook his head. "My ancestors would rise from their graves in reproach," he assured her.

She laughed again. "Then I'll bid you goodnight, Robert."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, causing her to wonder what she'd said wrong. But then she started to blush and stammer as she figured it out.

"I—I'm sorry," she managed. "I just assumed—I shouldn't have used your first name."

"Please don't apologize," he said at once, releasing her arm so that he could take her hand instead. "There's no reason we shouldn't be on a first name basis when we're off duty, Miss…" he let his voice trail off.

"Nyota," she supplied.

"Nyota," he repeated.

She smiled at him. "And are you a Rob or a Bob?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter," he assured her. "In the army, most people referred to me as Bobby Lee. Your Mr. Scott, however, has christened me Robby."

Uhura considered that. "I'll stick with Robert," she decided.

He gave her a playful bow in acknowledgment, but then his eyes grew serious. "Are you attending Yeoman Rand's bat mitzvah?"

"Of course," she answered. But then she tilted her head up at him and gave him an encouraging look. "But I don't have an escort yet."

He smiled down at her. "If our schedules permit, will you allow me to serve in that capacity?"

"I'd like that," she told him, making a mental note to ensure that their schedules did, indeed, match up.

"Thank you," he said, raising her hand to his lips before releasing it. "I'll see you on the bridge tomorrow," he added. And then, with one last nod—and a lingering look—he left her and strode toward the nearest turbo lift.

Uhura sighed as her door slid open. She walked into her cabin, wondering what Lee would make of the intensely African décor. And then she collapsed on the bed, wondering just what to make of him. Had he just been flirting with her?

She was attracted to him—there was no denying that. But what was she going to do if anything serious developed between them? He'd been happily married with seven children. Common sense told her that a man like that would not remain widowed for long; he was probably too used to being married. And he was such a good looking man with such a courteous way about him. He wouldn't want for female attention.

She sat up, trying to bring some of Mr. Spock's logic to bear. If she decided that she was seriously interested, she would have to move quickly. Not so quickly as to frighten him off—but quickly enough to let him know that there were possibilities for more than just a friendship between them.

Rand's bat mitzvah would be the testing ground, she decided. If things went well, she'd find way to let him know that she was interested. Perhaps it'd be best just to be up front about it. And then, if he was also interested, they could take their time figuring out if they had any real future together.

Of course, he might not be interested. Uhura suspected that he was outgrowing his racial prejudices—but he might reject her advances for a number of other reasons. Well, she'd just have to take that chance. Mr. Spock's attitude was the right one, she decided. She couldn't control Lee's feelings for her. If he backed away, she wouldn't take it personally. She'd just settle for a friendship with as much grace as possible.

~

McCoy sighed and dragged his eyes open. "It's hot as hell in here," he muttered into Spock's chest.

"I grew cold during the night, Doctor," Spock said defensively. "Nonetheless, I didn't wish the temperature to prove unbearable to you. So I raised it to a mere 33.333333333333336 degrees Celsius.

"And that equals?"

Spock sighed. "I do not know why American humans insist on a clumsy, outdated measurement of temperature," he complained. "It equals approximately 92 degrees Fahrenheit, Doctor."

McCoy groaned. "Spock—we're going to have to work out some kind of compromise when it comes to room temperature. What's the lowest temperature you can stand to sleep in?"

"I should not prefer less than 90 degrees Fahrenheit," he answered. "But that is far lower than I would keep my room were I left to my own devices."

"If we got you some of those good heating blankets, could you stand to leave the temperature at about 85 degrees? I might not die in an 85 degrees room."

Spock considered that. "I think it unlikely, Doctor, that a room temperature of 92 degrees will cause your demise. You survived it last night. And your native Georgia is not known for cool weather."

"But we keep it nice and cool indoors," Bones pointed out. "But what do you think of the blanket idea?"

"Would you not be too hot beneath such blankets?"

"Oh, I intend to sleep on top of them," Bones assured him. "Hell, maybe I'll even wrap myself in a cooling blanket."

Spock paused to consider again. "Very well," he said at length. "We will acquire such blankets."

"Thank you," Bones said. Then he pushed himself up off of Spock and up off of the bed.

He stood up, stretched out and then began staring around the room for a bit. "I think your cabin's a bit better than mine," he said. "I suppose if we bunk together, we ought to take this one."

Spock sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I do not think it would be wise to 'bunk together' before we are bonded," he pointed out.

"I know, I know," Bones said with a rueful grin. "I'm not suggesting anything improper, Spock. I promise to leave your virtue in tact until our wedding night. I'm just thinking toward the future, that's all."

"Even if we share this room, I will still require time alone for meditation," Spock warned him.

McCoy nodded. "I'm not worried about that—I'll use that time in sickbay to catch up with my journals and studies." He paused, still considering the room. "I don't even mind your décor that much," he added generously. "I'll just add a few personal touches; that's all."

Spock cringed. "Just what 'personal touches' do you have in mind?" he asked.

Bones winked at him. He wanted to leave Spock in cruel suspense for as long as possible. Let the Vulcan imagine the worst. "You'll see," he said. "It's getting late—we'd better get ready to report to our duties. Are we going to make it to Octavian VII today?"

"Tomorrow, Doctor," Spock corrected.

"Just as well," Bones muttered. "I've got plenty of work today without having to go stumbling over some wilderness. Dibs on the shower. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to take one together?"

Spock stared at him. "It—it is not a water shower," he reminded him. "We do not need to conserve the sonic energy."

McCoy grinned. "Conservation wasn't what I had in mind," he assured the science officer.

Spock looked away. McCoy knew for a fact that the Vulcan was enticed by his suggestion, but he also knew that hell would freeze over before Spock would admit as much.

"Doctor," Spock managed at last, "You are not on your best behavior this morning."

"That's true," McCoy owned. "But trust me—a little temptation is good for the soul."

"I find that unlikely," Spock informed him.

Bones grinned again. "Well, then, you'll have to think of some way to induce me to reform. Otherwise, my love, we'll both be mighty uncomfortable until the wedding."

And with that parting shot, he made his way into the bathroom.

LINK TO PART TWENTY