It was only in this moment, with her tucked into his side and snoring softly, that Spock realized just how tiny Uhura was.  Even during moments on the bridge when they were attacked and she went flying so that he helped her to her feet, she’d never seemed this small.  It wasn’t exactly that she blended in, but her presence was, in many ways, as commanding as the captain’s, especially since she was the voice of Starfleet and, for all intents and purposes, the Enterprise herself much more so than the captain was.

Lessons had ended an hour ago, the lute on its stand by the practice bench, but they were on his settee now.  They’d been reading from their respective padds—he on peculiar ecological findings the USS Intrepid had discovered almost fifty years ago on a still-inhabitable planet and she a book of poetry written in her native Swahili tongue.  For that entire hour neither had said a word, yet Spock had thought it pleasant.  She understood the essence of silence as well as speech, and Spock approved of her appreciation for both.

She shifted against him, her cheek nuzzling his right biceps as if it would soften for her comfort.  Spock frowned as he realized he’d been staring at her sleeping for two point three-seven minutes instead of reading his padd.  In fact, he hadn’t even known she’d been reclining on him until he’d turned to ask if she were ready to return to her quarters.

Which, apparently, she was.

But Spock was reluctant to awaken her.  Part of him, the human part especially, wanted her to linger longer.  Humans in sleep were exceedingly fascinating, and Uhura was certainly no exception.  She’d tried to curl up in a ball as if she were cold, which was impossible since his room was all but stifling to everyone but a Vulcan.

It was most illogical.

Spock set his padd to his left and regarded her again.  He tried to figure out a way to awaken her with as little startlement as possible. After running scenarios in his head, he ultimately made a decision.

“Miss Uhura.”

She did nothing but sigh and snuggle closer.

Spock frowned and stared at her.  That was not what he had expected to happen.  He’d spoken in a slightly louder tone, one that should have roused her, not send her into further slumber.  He went through his plan again, attempting to locate the flaw so he could correct it.

“Of course,” he whispered, then bent his mouth to her ear.

“Miss Uhura.”

This time her head would’ve caught him in the chin had he solely human reflexes.

“Spock!” she exclaimed, and embarrassment filled her dark-brown eyes.

“It appears you tire of my company,” he said evenly.

Uhura laughed and shook her head, replacing her head on his arm.  “Oh, I’m sorry, Spock.  I just…couldn’t keep my eyes open, but I didn’t want to leave.”

“Oh?” he asked.  “We were not doing anything particularly stimulating.”

“No, but it’s comfortable and peaceful in here.”

Spock raised his eyebrows and looked at her.  She was looking back, a small grin on her face.

“I do not bore you.”

“No.  You intrigue me, Mr. Spock.  I want to know what is going on in that head of yours.”

“You do not ask me any questions.”

“I thought I’d just observe first.”

“By falling asleep on my shoulder?”

She grinned slowly.  “It’s a comfortable shoulder, Mr. Spock.”

It was then Spock concluded Uhura was teasing him, a conclusion that only firmed when her hand touched his torso.

“Is that your heart?” she asked, sliding down to press her ear directly under his chest.  His arms hovered in the air to make room for her, mildly surprised she’d taken such liberties, and more surprised that he’d let her.  Then again, he was always reluctant to stop an investigation while in progress.

“It beats so fast!” she said with awe.

“I am Vulcan,” Spock reminded her, ultimately deciding to put his hands behind his back.

“Yes, but…is there anything human about you at all?”

Usually when he got that question, and usually from Dr. McCoy, it was meant to convey some sort of failing on his part.  But from a strictly observational standpoint, which was how Uhura had presented it, it was a logical query.

“I will not live as long as my father,” Spock conjectured.  “And…”  He was unsure if he wanted to say this next part, but she looked at him so earnestly he couldn’t keep it from her.  “I am ticklish.”

Uhura’s expression immediately turned mischievous.  “Ticklish?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at her hand creeping around his body.  “Extremely.”

“Does this mean you don’t like to laugh?” she asked with a pout Spock was sure was disingenuous.

“I do not generally laugh.”

“That was not my question, Mr. Spock.”

He looked up at the ceiling.  “I thought you were sleepy, Miss Uhura.  I would much rather you snoring on my shoulder than you asking these inquiries.”

“Weren’t you just complaining I wasn’t asking anything?”

“That was merely an observation.”

She laughed and replaced her ear over his heart.  “This is too.”

For fifteen point two seconds, there was nothing, and then her fingers brushed lightly against his side.  All the Vulcan control in the world couldn’t prevent him from jumping and huffing out a sharp breath.

Uhura pulled back and giggled.  “You are ticklish!”

“I believe I made that fact known.”

Uhura rolled her eyes and sat up.  “You did, but we humans like to see for ourselves sometimes.”

“Apparently.”

Grinning, Uhura stood and stretched one arm over her head while the other covered her yawning mouth.  “But you are right, I am sleepy.”

Spock stood, his hands still behind his back, and stepped toward her, tilting his head.  She regarded him with a curious, yet amused expression and slowly settled her arms at her sides.

“Something the matter?” she asked.

“You are quite small, Miss Uhura.”

She mimicked his stance and put her hands at her back.  “Yes.  So was my mother and my grandmother and my great-grandmother.  We are not tall women in my family.”

“But you are larger than you appear.”

Uhura raised an eyebrow and jut out her left hip.  “Oh?”

There was warning in her tone, and Spock took a cautionary step back.  “I did not mean that as an insult.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

He pressed his lips together and furrowed his brows, trying to find words that would convey his thoughts in such a way that wasn’t so literal.  “I simply meant you do not require as much care as one of your stature generally would seem to need.”

The confusion lifted from Uhura’s face and she grinned again.  “Oh.  I can take care of myself.”

“Adequately enough, considering your size.”

“I’d never be a ‘damsel in distress’.”

“I was not aware you wished to be?”

Uhura laughed and shook her head.  “Damsels don’t generally look like me, Spock.”

Spock looked off to the side, recalling a very odd time on the ship when Mr. Sulu wielded a sword and acted as Uhura’s champion.  Even then, she’d displayed exceptional grit, which made Sulu appear even more ridiculous than he’d already been.  But given his time around humans, reading Human literature classics, and being the son of a Human mother, Spock was more than a little perplexed.

“But is that not something to which a woman aspires?”

“Not all women,” Uhura said, peering up at him.  She sighed and moved away.  “However, it seems other species would agree with you.  Whenever the landing party gets in a bind, I’m treated no better or worse than the men.”

Spock’s frown deepened.  “You are correct, which is most curious, since several times when I am part of other landing parties, our adversaries would take the females to use as ransom for their intended goal.  While that is logical if they understand the human female is generally weaker in brute strength, although rarely in intellect, and human male has a need to be savior of all, they do not do that with you.”

“I don’t need saving, remember?”

Spock looked away again, uncertain and uncomfortable as to why that statement bothered him.  “Nevertheless, I shall escort you to your quarters.”

Uhura shook her head fondly and came right up to him.  “And after all that talk, you’re still going to walk me home?”

“Yes.”

“Why?  This ship is safer, most of the time, than any planet we beam down upon.”

Spock’s hands tightened at the small of his back.  The truthful answer was one that disconcerted him, one the reminded him that half of his ancestry was all of hers.  But, as always, he could not lie to her.

“To assure that you will never ‘need saving’.”

“Spock—”

“Or, in the five point four-nine percent chance this ship should come under attack, or the ten point one-one chance a crewmember should attack you, I wish to be by your side to aid in your ‘taking care of yourself’.”

It was most baffling when Uhura gasped and ducked her head.  “Wow.  I never knew chivalry was compulsory on Vulcan.”

Spock raised his eyebrows.  “It is not.  Perhaps my mother slipped in some lessons without my explicit knowledge.  She was much smarter than I when I was a youth.  In fact, she still is.”

Uhura went to his side and slid her arm through his.  “You love your mother.”

They walked out of his quarters on the way to the lift.  “I have very high regard for her, yes.”

Spock ushered Uhura onto the lift, and she leaned affectionately against him.  “Aw! Spock’s a mama’s boy!  That’s so sweet!  I’d love to meet her one day and thank her for raising such a strapping young man!”

Sighing, he arched an eyebrow.  He did not share the same enthusiasm Uhura did about potentially meeting his mother.  He suspected Lady Amanda would engage in that horrid human tradition of showing photographs of their naked children in the early stages of life.

Spock still wondered what logical explanation his mother had presented to let his father allow such a thing.