Chapter Text
After… everything, T’Pring sticks around. Uhura gets it. The girl’s trying to find her place in a new world, a place where her parents, friends, and husband are all gone, leaving jagged, open wounds in their place. She was a lucky one— she’s alive, and there are people willing to let Vulcan etiquette slide in favor of T’Pring feeling better. Not that she isn’t everything a Vulcan should be, of course— T’Pring has a better grasp of her emotions than even Sarek, sometimes— but she’s allowed to be irrational, if she wants to, and Uhura thinks that counts for a lot.
T’Pring shares a room with her. Gaila and Scotty hit it off pretty well, it seems, and putting T’Pring in that room when Gaila’s on the prowl… Jim thought better of that.
So Uhura and T’Pring share a room. T’Pring is clean, quiet, and thoughtful, and Uhura enjoys her company. They spend their early mornings on the back porch, talking culture and fashion and whatever else comes to mind.
They speak Vulcan. T’Pring has taken it upon herself to perfect Uhura’s grasp of the language.
It’s another morning, the morning after Jim’s given the Enterprise and the rest of the crew is sleeping off a night of celebration. Uhura’s hair is still wrapped for bed, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders against the autumn wind.
T’Pring takes her customary seat beside her, setting down two cups of sweet-smelling, Terran tea.
“So you will return to the stars,” she remarks, for once in English. “All of you.”
“As soon as the Enterprise is ready to go,” Uhura agrees.
T’Pring nods.
“It will be strange, without the crew,” she says. “I have grown accustomed to the constant company.”
“It’ll be weird without you there,” Uhura says honestly. “The Chief of Communications has their own quarters, you know.”
“Do they?”
“They do.”
“That is acceptable.” T’Pring sips her tea. “I do not like the idea of you sharing quarters with someone else.”
Uhura blinks.
“Why?”
T’Pring looks at her.
“I believe I have grown fond of you.”
Uhura freezes, because she can’t be putting this together right. Yeah, T’Pring’s beautiful (drop-dead gorgeous) and yeah maybe Uhura’s been a little bit more friendly than one ought to be with Vulcans, but T’Pring isn’t— is she reciprocating? She can’t be reciprocating.
“I don’t understand.”
T’Pring arches an eyebrow.
“You are an intelligent woman, Uhura,” she says. “One with a certain understanding of Vulcan ways. You understand completely. You simply do not believe it.” She sips her tea. “I have no idea why. You have matched me in most conversations, have shown your interest— albeit in an overt, Human way— and, to be truthful, you have drawn my eye since our second meeting. Perhaps even before, in an objective way.”
Translation: T’Pring thinks she’s hot. Has thought so since they met at Jim and Spock’s wedding.
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
“You do not have to make a decision,” T’Pring informs her gently. “We have not known each other long, and I do not believe myself ready for another relationship. Though it is not visible to most non-Vulcans, I am still recovering from the loss of Stonn.”
Uhura’s lips pinch. Is she an asshole, for forgetting about Stonn? Probably.
“It is strange,” T’Pring says, apparently unbothered by Uhura’s silence. “Vulcan teachings would suggest my place among such emotional beings would harm my recovery, but I find myself pondering the possibility that the support system granted to me by Jim and the rest of your crew may be more effective. The goodness that fills this house is sometimes… overwhelming.”
Her eyes are soft when Uhura meets them again.
“Humans often speak of warmth when they speak of home, happiness, and love,” she says. “I did not understand until Gaila brought me here. Not truly.”
Uhura swallows.
“You know, you talk about emotions a lot,” she says. “Especially considering the time I’ve spent with other Vulcans.”
“You have spent time with Spock,” T’Pring corrects. “He is not like other Vulcans. He has something to prove.”
Uhura sits back.
“I guess.”
T’Pring shifts just slightly, letting their shoulders brush.
“I do not believe I would be so open if not for Jim and Gaila,” she admits. “They corrupted me when I was young, opening me to possibilities outside of Vulcan teachings.”
“What are you going to do once we leave?”
“I do not know.” She moves closer, close enough that Uhura feels the urge to relax and lean her head on her shoulder. “But I think Jim would call that… fun.”
Uhura snorts.
“Jim likes mystery.”
“So do I, sometimes,” T’Pring says. “You have not given me an answer.”
“I…” Uhura thinks about it. “I think… I’d like to try. I enjoy your company.”
“I know. You project quite clearly.”
She flushes. That means Spock…
“Spock is aware. He is pleased by this development.”
Oh, well then.
T’Pring pushes back the sleeve of her robe. She holds up two fingers— an invitation.
Uhura stares a moment, then reaches out with two fingers of her own, pressing lightly against green skin.
“Yes,” T’Pring says, eyes sliding shut. “I think we may be compatible.”
Uhura gives in and lets herself lean. T’Pring lets her.
“Jim’s going to freak.”
“Yes,” T’Pring agrees. “He put money on you being the one to… ‘make the first move’.”
Uhura laughs.
“Of course he did,” she says, watching T’Pring idly twine their fingers together. “I wonder who won?”
“Spock. I informed him of my decision to approach you upon recognizing my own interest in a relationship.”
“Oh. When was that?”
“Approximately three nights after Gaila and I arrived.”
Something about that makes Uhura feel warm. She cuddles closer, nose brushing against the soft cotton of T’Pring’s borrowed sleep shirt.
“I think I might have a thing for Vulcans,” she confesses, words muffled by T’Pring’s shoulder.
“I find many of the actors in Jim’s holovids sexually attractive,” T’Pring says, eyes still closed. “Particularly Brad Pitt and Maureen O’Hara. With that in mind, it is perhaps safe to say that I have a ‘thing’ for Humans.”
“We make quite a match, then.”
“Indeed.”
They sit like that for a while, until the sounds of hungover officers filter through the house and their tea’s long since gone cold. Uhura would have liked to sit longer, but it’s her turn to make breakfast.
Gaila’s the only one in the kitchen when they go back inside. She takes one look at the pair of them and perks like she isn’t horribly hungover.
“It happened, didn’t it?” She gets to her feet. “It happened, right? You guys—?”
“I have informed Uhura of my interest,” T’Pring says. “She has accepted.”
Gaila squeals, winces, then hugs them both.
“This is awesome,” she says. “This is perfect. All my friends, all together. This is gonna be freaking great!”
Uhura rolls her eyes at Gaila’s excitement as she bounds upstairs, likely to tell Jim. She turns to T’Pring.
“You can call me Nyota,” she says. “I’d like that.”
“Nyota,” T’Pring repeats, testing out the name. “What does it mean?”
“Star.”
“A name aptly given, then.” T’Pring looks at her and just… Oh. “Thank you, Nyota.”
“There’s no need—”
There’s a crash from upstairs, the thud of someone falling off the bed. Jim’s voice echoes through the house.
“ What do you mean, Spock won? ”
Uhura sighs, shaking her head. A tremor of good humor slides down her spine as T’Pring brushes her fingers against the back of her neck.
In the end, it’s another morning with the crew of the Enterprise .
A good start to any day.