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It had been at least two minutes this time. Elbows leaning on the silver table, you hold the Vulcan’s steady gaze, working hard to stop the corner of your mouth from twitching up into a smile. Spock’s eyes narrow.
“You are joking.”
At his words you relax, grinning evilly. “I’m afraid not my friend. In my time, instead of saying ‘are you serious’, some people really did say 'deadass’.”
Spock looks at you for a moment, then his right eyebrow quirks upwards. “The people in your time were –”
“Ridiculous?”
“Fascinating.”
“That’s one word for it!” You laugh, leaning back in your chair with a stretch. It’s your turn, and you wait as Spock prepares the fact he’s going to tell you.
“Vulcans are touch telepaths.”
You study his face carefully, and find absolutely nothing to help you. Cursing inwardly, you decide to try another tactic.
“As in, if you touched me, you could read my thoughts?” you ask.
“Precisely.”
You wait a few moments longer, staring him down.
“You’re joking.” You guess.
“It is in fact true.”
“Seriously? That’s amazing!” You can’t help but laugh as the absurdity of your situation settles around you. It’s been hitting you less and less lately, but there are still moments where everything seems unfathomable. At least the outright disbelief stopped a few days in.
“This place is wild,” you say, more to yourself than to Spock as you get up, moving across the room to the replicator. As you take your cup of tea from the slot in the wall, you feel the tall Vulcan move into place beside you.
Giving him a small smile, you shift your gaze to the window. Outside, tendrils of pink spill into clouds of blue as the ship sails lazily by a nebula. The glow of the stars seems endless, and you are pulled from your trance only when Spock takes a step closer to you. You turn to see him watching you, and you laugh gently, running a hand through your hair.
“I always loved space,” you say, looking back out at the nebula. “Since I was a little girl. I never dreamed I’d get this close.”
“Too easy. True.”
Confused, you turn to look at Spock, and then it clicks.
“Oh –” you smile, moving so your back leans against the counter. “Yes Mr. Spock, you’re right, far too easy. I thought you said Vulcans don’t have a sense of humour.”
Spock doesn’t reply to this, turning his body to match yours. “I believe,” he says, “it is my turn.”
You nod your assent. When he looks at you this time, there is something like hesitation in his eyes. “Due to our sensitivity to touch, a Vulcan kiss is performed using the soles of the feet.”
You can’t help but grin at the mental image. Hell, if he really was telepathic –
“True.”
“You are mistaken.” Spock answers, moving to face you. “This,” he takes your hand, extending your index and middle fingers before lightly pressing his to them, “is a Vulcan kiss.”
His skin is warm and soft against yours, and your heart jumps as you look up into his face. You feel his thumb slide along the back of your hand, and you take a small step forward.
“And this,” you say, leaning into him, “is a human one.”