Characters: Uhura, Spock
Rating: PG for brief swearing
Word count: 679
Summary: Spock discovers jelly beans. Spock/Uhura. Pre-movie.
Author's notes: A little ficlet written for bringthehappy. The prompt was 'spock/uhura, jelly beans'.
“Is this seat taken?”
Uhura looks up from her PADD to find Commander Spock standing in her front of her. She looks around at the completely empty library and the hundreds of available seats, then back to him. With anyone else, she might expect a question like that to be flirting, but with him, she suspects he’s quite serious.
“No, please, sit down,” she says.
She scoops her things in closer to her to give him some room to work across from her.
“Thank you,” he says, with incline of his head. He sits down and begins to look at his PADD.
She takes it as a sign he doesn’t want to talk and gets back to studying. At first, she keeps looking over through her lashes at him, watching him work. She wonders if he ever relaxes that posture. She wonders if it gives him knots in his shoulders. She wonders what it would be like to massage his shoulders. And maybe his ears. Maybe -
Shit! He’s looking at her. She reaches into her bag and tries to find something she could pretend she had been looking for all along. She pulls out a bag of jelly beans. Those will have to do.
She dumps them out on the table, earning an eyebrow raise from Commander Spock.
“I believe food and drink are forbidden on the library premises,” he says.
“I believe you are correct,” she says. She pops a green jelly bean into her mouth.
“But you intend to eat them anyway?” he says.
“At’cha,” she says. It’s a Sarassian word that can’t really be translated into English, but its rough meaning is ‘just try and stop me’. She uses it a lot.
He seems to know what it means and he nods, apparently not going to attempt to ‘at’cha’ her. He returns to his PADD and she returns to hers, absently sorting the jelly beans into groups by colour.
After a few minutes, she steals another look at him. He’s watching her finger push each jelly bean around. His brow is furrowed in thought.
“Do you have a purpose in grouping them, besides organization?” he asks.
She smiles. “I like to eat them by colour,” she explains.
“I see,” he says, in a tone that expresses that he doesn’t see at all. “I thought perhaps you were attempting to make a Fibonacci sequence.”
She looks down at her groups. One pink, one black, two yellow, three orange, five white, eight purple. “No, that’s a coincidence,” she says. Only a Vulcan would think to sort candy by an ancient Earth mathematician’s theory. “I just like to eat the orange ones first and the red ones last.”
He seems to be having trouble with that logic – or lack there of. He stares at them, apparently fascinated. She’s trying very hard not to laugh.
“Would you like one?” she asks. “The red ones are raspberry, the orange are orange, the green are apple, the pink are cotton candy, the purple are grape, the yellow are lemon, the white are coconut, and the black are licorice.”
“They reflect the colours of their natural counterparts,” he says, almost to himself. She half expects him to start recording his observations in a lab report. He looks over them and then selects a red one. “The flavour is not entirely accurate.”
“It’s close enough for me,” she says, grinning as she pops an orange one into her mouth. “You can have some more, if you want.”
He’s reaching for an orange one when there is a cry of dismay and the librarian descends on them.
“I have never before been forcibly ejected from a public building,” Spock says, a few minutes later.
Both he and Uhura are on the library steps, Uhura barely hanging onto to the things she gathered up in haste.
“Congratulations!” Uhura says, cheerfully.
“I did not intend it to be an accomplishment,” he says.
She laughs openly at that. His lips quirk in a slight smile. Maybe. She could be imagining it. “Do you want to get a coffee or something?” she asks, hoping to catch him off-guard.
“Would that be appropriate?” he asks.
“At’cha,” she says, with a grin.
She continues down the steps. He hesitates for a moment, then follows.