She's caught somewhere between rolling her eyes and hitting something. She settles for a compromise and does both; hitting his shoulder with a huff.
"Geez, I'm not a fucking delicate flower, Spock," she grumbles, annoyance and amusement warring in her tone but at the look on his face the latter wins out and she smirks.
"I…apologize, Captain," he begins, squirming just the tiniest bit as he hesitates. "I was unaware of this level of proficiency in hand-to-hand combat on your part. Previous observations and experiences have not alluded to the level of skill you seem to possess at this time."
Really, trust this Vulcan to twist 'hey, you're better than I expected' into something like that. Pinned to the floor. By a petite human female.
Really, if she wasn't still a bit annoyed by the way he'd handled her in their first (friendly) sparring match ever she'd laugh. Okay, she still did, but it's that eyebrow, she swears!
"Well, you haven't really caught me at my best during any one of those observations, Spock," she grins, resisting the urge to rub herself against him from her place straddling his hips at the thrilling realization that he hasn't pushed her off yet ever since her grip relented and she leant back to free his arms at the accept of defeat. "I've either been drunk off my scull, or high on vaccines and running on no sleep, whatever the fuck Bones drugged me up with, and yeah, some other physical injuries. Doesn't put me in top condition for fighting a species several times stronger than me, does it?"
He stiffens at her mention of past events; the Narada still fresh on everyone's mind only three months away from the cluster-fuck of that time-travelling mess of a fucking maniac. She feels him underneath her but would've still noted the tightening of his jaw and the steel creeping into his compellingly soft, brown eyes. She doesn't comprehend why, but apparently what is stoic and android to others is a myriad of controlled expressions to her. And possibly Uhura; she hasn't really dared to ask. If she'd had balls she'd be worried about losing them, but as it was, she was sure Uhura could find other ways to inflict pain.
Inhumanly hot fingers brushed her bare thigh briefly, it feels like nothing more but a feather, only it carries the electric charge she's been so used to receiving from Spock whenever they touch, skin to skin or not. It was a cue to move, she knew. Grinning, she rolled off of her First Officer and followed through her motion until she stood up. She watched him rise; smooth and elegant and dignified despite his tousled hair and rumpled clothes.
She bit her lower lip in amusement, trying to suppress a faintly, embarrassingly girly, giggle. Spock was ridiculously hot, alien temperature notwithstanding. It was all she could do not to nip his ear or lick that neck. Which was bad thoughts to have of her First Officer, but she was still getting used to all this Captainly stuff, like not entertaining fantasies of banging her crew, dammit.
"This is true," he agrees with her previous statement, nearly forgotten in her observation of him. "Situations do seem to have been against you, sir. It remains quite logical, then, for us to continue training as it would serve you to achieve further skills in fighting against those of superior strength, until a time when situation will play little part in your success."
"Aww," she cooed, taking a step closer and brushing her hand along his arm. "I didn't know you cared!"
He was tensing up again, she noted with a little bit of guilt. The last month had been filled with causal touches now that they worked in close quarters, and her offer of chess one evening had prompted a tradition of at least thrice weekly meet for a game in their free time. She was, by nature, a tactile person and even more so around those she cared for. By now, Spock was among those, had been quite early, despite their rocky start. She was never one to linger in the past, grudges not a foreign subject but unusual of her character.
Somehow, she suspected Spock had picked this up and something had loosened within the half-Vulcan and the rest—well, it played out quite naturally. Maybe that epic friendship she'd been promised wasn't so far away (though, that other Spock, the old man that made her want to hug him and never let go in some primal protective way, had seemed quite surprised to find she was female).
"I assure you, Captain, your health and safety is of great importance to this ship. It would be remiss of me, as it is my duty as First Officer, to not insure every step is being taken to prevent you from unnecessary harm."
Geez, but he was still a stick in the mud.
"Yeah, yeah; you dutiful Vulcan, you," she sighed, stepping away and turning to make her way across the training mat they'd occupied in the gym. She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, groaning slightly at the pops of bone and creaking joints. "Well, thanks for the spar anyway! God knows it took forever to make you see it my way, but, here we are." She shot a glance over her shoulder. "Up for some chess after shift, First Officer?"
He had not remained idle where she'd turned from him, but was already catching up with those long strides of his. "Indeed, Captain," he murmured, brows lowering slightly in a way that told her he was displeased or uncomfortable. Perhaps both. "However, I regret I must decline your invitation. I have already made plans for the evening, and it would be impolite of me to cancel."
She shrugged; a bit disappointed now that she didn't have anything but unfinished reports to look forward to, but smiled in reply. "It's okay Spock, some other time then?"
"I would not be averse to such an arrangement," was his quick response, that little quirk of his head that was something between a nod and the curious tilt of a bird. Her smile widened, and the tips of his ears turned green. Well, greener, she mused.
She had always been appealing to others – be them male, female, human or alien – for as long as she could remember. That her First Officer acted Vulcan-flustered around her had escaped her at first, she'd thought it annoyance, but as their seemingly mutual distrust and dislike had dispersed she'd started to clue in on the signs. He was a red-blooded, well, no; green-blooded man, and it was normal. However, he was Vulcan; monogamous and currently in a relationship.
She toned down her smile and subtly moved a slight bit away. He was probably beating himself mentally for being attracted to anyone other than his girlfriend, and she didn't want to make it worse for him. Really, she wasn't that much of a bitch people liked to think.
Though, she'd definitely tap that.
"Well, I'll see you later!" she declared, parting to step into the women's changing room. Catching his eyes, she threw him a friendly wave. "Have fun!"
He opened his mouth to reply, probably to point out that Vulcans did not 'have fun' and most likely to return her good bye but the door was already closing behind her.
She wondered why he'd looked so confused; it wasn't like she'd thrown some obscure idiom at him. Shrugging, she let it go in favor of stripping out of her sweat-soaked clothes; a tight, black t-shirt and worn, loose-fitting red shorts that rode low on her thighs. First a shower, then she'd probably drop by Bones before returning to her cabin for some well-needed catching up with her reports. Fuck but that was hard to adjust to; the sheer amount of paperwork to deal with was overwhelming. But Jamie T. Kirk didn't bow to any challenge, and she'd be damned if she gave any reason for those stuffed old shirts in the Admiralty to doubt their decision in granting her Captaincy.
In a good mood after a fun and full-filling spar, she entered the showers humming. The steam was thick and she allowed herself to relax; a rarity even before all this. For now, though, there was just the water on her back and her hands on her skin and it was bliss.