nyota_uhura24 | [SOL! Verse - Walk a Mile in My Shoes]

Entry tags:

[SOL! Verse - Walk a Mile in My Shoes]

Nyota couldn't wait to get out of the house. The atmosphere had been tense ever since Kamau had come home bruised and bloody on Saturday night. She'd heard him arguing with their father the day before, but went into the room she shared with Sadiki and closed the door, not really wanting to hear anymore. They seemed to have reached a tentative truce, and she wanted to believe that the matter was over, but some part of her knew that even if they could let go of this particular incident this wasn't really the end. It wasn't the first time Kamau's choices had caused tension, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

In any event, she was more than happy to bid farewell to her family for the evening. It wasn't even a lie to say she was going to meet a friend, even if there was no reason to inform her family that she was going to see Jim and he was going to teach her to dance. She shook off the feelings of guilt and focused on the fact that she was finally going to do something she'd been dreaming about since she was a little girl. Dancing with him in the diner was more fun than she'd ever imagined it could be. It simply felt right to move that way to the music, to be held in his arms. She wanted to feel that way again, slightly breathless but completely comfortable. In the process, she knew she'd have the opportunity to learn more about the man whose music spoke to her before they'd even introduced themselves. There was no denying that Jim was unlike anyone she'd known before; she looked forward to him constantly surprising her, and to how much she smiled when he was around. Seeing him always made her day a little brighter.

She tried to ignore the little fluttering in her chest as she got off the 2 subway at the stop closest to his house. She didn't go to the Bronx often, so she couldn't help looking around curiously as she walked to his apartment building, high heels clicking softly on the pavement. They seemed like the right shoes for dancing. When she got to the top floor she took a deep breath, feeling suddenly slightly nervous, and knocked.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It had only been two days since he'd last seen Nyota, and he'd only heard her name once, but the single word kept running on repeat in his mind and her face along with it.

He'd spent his Sunday mostly catching up on some much needed rest, lounging about with a book and when he found he couldn't focus on that, he'd sat down and started composing a new song. One that was meant to exorcise the image of deep brown eyes from his mind, but instead just made him feel like she was practically in the room with him. He'd finally caved and admitted to himself that okay, so he was ridiculously attracted to her, and okay, he wanted nothing more than to just dance her right to his bed when she got to his place. But he'd also made a firm decision that none of that would happen. Not just on Monday, but ever. He couldn't do something that would have such severe repercussions for her. He'd just have to reign it in and pretend she wasn't driving him crazy when she pressed herself up against him and smiled so innocently, like she didn't have a clue what chaos she was wrecking on his self-control.

A restless night later, and Monday came around. All through the day and six hours of getting his toes stepped on and his ass groped, he counted the minutes until he'd be home and she'd be there, stepping on his toes. He didn't think he was lucky enough that she'd grope his ass.

He took of from the dance studio as early as he could and went for a quick shower when he got home. He'd probably need another one later, maybe even a cold one, but this way she wouldn't smell any of that awful perfume the foxtrot furies liked to bathe in. In fact - he smirked to himself as he put on a clean dancing outfit - he might just wear this one again tomorrow. See how the wicked witches of waltzing liked another and much nicer scent on him.

Just as he tugged on his sleeveless black undershirt, he heard a knock on the door and couldn't help grinning widely to himself. He padded barefoot over to the door and opened it, giving her a slow smile as she came into view. Leaning on the door, he greeted her and took in the sight of her, fresh faced with just the hint of moisture in her hair. It must have begun to rain again. "Miss Gorgeous," he nodded formally, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "I'm delighted you could attend."

It had started to rain only a moment or two before she arrived at his apartment, and she smoothed some of the droplets from her hair as she waited for him to answer the door. When she caught sight of him, her breath caught, eyes momentarily drawn to his bare arms. She blinked for a moment and then returned the grin, trying to ignore or at least rationalize her initial reaction. She supposed she ought to get used to being slightly breathless when he was around.

Her grin widened when when he called her Miss Gorgeous, eyes mirroring his mischievous look, gaze drawn as always to the wondrous blue of his eyes. “I wouldn't have missed it, Jim,” she replied, suddenly wishing she had something clever to call him even though she loved calling him Jim. Her eyes strayed to the room beyond him, openly curious now. She'd wondered what sort of place he lived in, if he lived alone, what would be on the walls, whether or not there would be books... There was so much she didn't know about him. She'd never seen him outside of the diner. Now it felt a little as if she had wandered into his world, and it was hard to reign in her enthusiasm.

Meeting his eyes again, she asked, “Now are you going to invite me in, or am I supposed to dance in the hall?”

"Hmmm..." he pretended to give her question serious thought and even went so far as to lean forward and cast a glace in either direction of the hallway, then stepped back and shrugged. "Nah, the neighbors are too nosy as it is."

Sweeping his arm out elaborately, he gestured for her to enter and shut the door behind her after she had. "As I said, it's not the Four Seasons, but it's home."

She was obviously curious about how he lived, so he let her look her fill as he moved to the record player to put on some music, running his finger over the backs of the records that took up most of one of his bookshelves. After deciding on one, one that would fit as just background music for now, he took it out of the sleeve and put it on. "You can put your coat on the chair by the coffee table, I don't have a coat rack."

Her eyes narrowed in a mock glare as he looked up and down the hallway, even if she couldn't quite hide her amusement. When he actually invited her in, she nodded and said dryly, “How very kind of you.”

Her wry expression couldn't last once she was actually inside. Her eyes scanned the apartment, briefly taking in the spectacular windows streaked with rain and then fixing on the bookshelves. She was automatically drawn towards them, eyes skimming over the titles. Many of them she recognized, even if she hadn't had the chance to actually read those that weren't in the black section of the library. Some she'd read in school, and some she'd bought with the allowance her father gave her, but it wasn't enough to buy all she wanted. Jim certainly had a very impressive collection. He probably went to college, she thought, fighting down the envy this revelation prompted.

The music momentarily distracted her, and she glanced over at him. “Thank you,” she said, tearing herself away from the book shelf to walk over to the table he'd indicated. She draped the coat over it and glanced around again. "You have so many books," she marveled.

It wasn't all that often he had people over. He liked to have a place that was just his, a place he could be alone and in peace, but somehow it didn't feel invasive to have her there. It felt... nice. Natural even. A fact that he couldn't help be a little concerned about.

Trying to keep his eyes mostly on things that weren't her, he made an amused sound at her statement. "Mmmhmm. 'A room without books is like a body without soul'. Which is ironic since there weren't actual, printed books around at Cicero's time," he grinned sheepishly, almost a little shyly and made his way to the fridge. "Then again, he also said that 'he only employs his passion who can make no use of his reason.' which... yeah, is kinda iffy to me. Passion is a good thing, if you ask me. Most of the time anyway."

Catching himself before he rambled on about something she probably had little to no interest in, he moved to the fridge. "Want something to drink?"

She couldn't help but find it endearing that he was quoting Cicero almost shyly, as if his intelligence and education were something to be ashamed of. “Well, passion can make you do things you probably shouldn't, but what's life without it?” she asked, thinking about the little passions that kept her going: music, the French she'd learned from her aunt, Jim... She shook off the thought, and the small pang that she'd never had access to Cicero's writings.

“I've always wished there were more books in our house,” she added quietly as she noted the math books. She'd taken calculus in high school, but never linear algebra or discrete math; those were only available in college. She quelled the impulse to ask if she could borrow some of them; he was already being very generous with her.

“Sure,” she said in response to his offer. “Anything is fine.”

The seemingly innocent question struck a nerve and he paused to glance over at her, his eyes narrowing in slight suspicion and definitely in curiosity. It couldn't be that she'd noticed the way he'd sometimes caught himself looking at her, could it? And that this was her discreet way of either encouraging him or warning him to back off. Was it?

"Very boring," he answered warily and got out a beer for himself, twisting it open and taking a slow sip before holding out the refrigerator door to show its contents.

"All I have is beer, milk and water, sorry. I could make some coffee?"

She was still examining his book collection, but caught the glance out of the corner of her eye and looked over at him. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of his expression, and her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. Had she said something strange?

Very boring. She almost sighed at how true that statement was. Of course, it had definitely become more interesting since Jim showed up. She smiled and glanced at the refrigerator. “Milk would be lovely. I don't actually drink coffee,” she replied, feeling slightly odd that he was waiting on her.

It suddenly struck her that there was something else she'd intended to say when she got here, but she'd been distracted by him and his books. “By the way, Jim... I'm sorry about the way my brother acted the other night. Thank you for helping him anyway."

She didn't give any indication as to what she'd meant by her comment, and he surmised that if she'd wanted to encourage anything she would have continued subtly flirting. It was difficult for him not to feel disappointed that she didn't.

He poured her a glass of milk and walked over to hand it to her, kicking the refrigerator door shut on his way. "Here you go." His eyes were still studying her, but then he chastised himself for seeing things that weren't really there. Talk about wishful thinking, Kirk. "I think I have some tea hidden away somewhere too, but... I didn't have time to go to the store on my way home."

Her apology on behalf of her brother was as unexpected as it was unnecessary and he shrugged it off. Apologies meant very little to him unless they were from the person who needed to make them, and even then he only really wanted to hear them if they were sincere. He doubted he'd ever get a sincere aplogy from Kamau. "Don't worry 'bout it. No harm no foul. He's just lucky I was there and knew what I was doing. They would have asked too many questions in the ER."

“Thank you,” she said as he handed her the glass. Something about the way he was looking at her made her arch a slightly curious eyebrow. She took a sip of the milk, finding it endearing that he was making excuses for the lack of tea. “Jim, I'm not about to complain about the drink selection when you're so kindly giving me dance lessons, and I'm perfectly happy with milk anyway.”

It didn't really surprise her that he brushed off the apology, but she'd felt the need to say something even though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong and that Jim wouldn't hold her brother's behavior against her. His last statement made her exhale shortly and look down for a moment. Whatever Kamau was involved with, it certainly wasn't the sort of thing he'd want to be questioned about. “He isn't around the diner much anyway, but I hope he won't normally speak to you like that,” she said, looking back at him and managing a helpless shrug and a small smile.

That was probably enough on the subject of her brother, and she'd rather focus on more pleasant things while she was here with Jim. “So what dance am I learning today?”

"Maybe not, but it's making me want to offer you cookies and ask you if you want to stay up and wait for Santa in our PJ's," he joked and reached out with his thumb to wipe away a bit of milk from her upper lip. "You had a little-- " he gestured to his own lip and sucked his thumb clean.

Stepping away from her, he took another sip of his beer before moving to get the dining table out of the way. They'd need all the floor space they could get for what he had in mind. This? Was going to be fun! "To be honest with you, I don't really care how he speaks to me. He's already made up his mind about me and there's not much I can do about it." The last few words came out on a slight grunt as he lifted the table and carried it out of the way.

Once that was over with, he moved back over to his shelves of records and pulled out a few, setting them beside the player and shooting her a gleefully mischievous smirk. "Today, we find out how much of a natural you really are. How much rhythm you've got and quick you are on your feet." He lifted the pick-up from the record that was playing and put on another (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=46byB2YGePA&feature=related). "Today..." he spun around and danced a few fast steps over to her and obvious challenge in his eyes. "You're learning the quickstep."

She laughed lightly at his teasing about Santa, but her eyes widened a little when he swiped the pad of his thumb over her upper lip. It was impossible to look away from his thumb as he brought it to his lips, and she blinked for a moment, trying to reclaim her ability to think straight. Why am I continually so distracted around him? she wondered, even as a grin spread across her face. She couldn't help teasing back. “If we're going to wait up for Santa, I ought to ask if you've been naughty or nice. Santa only brings presents to nice boys and girls, you know.”

Her eyes followed him as he moved the dining room table. It impressed her that he could be so relaxed about Kamau's openly hostile behavior, though he'd also brushed off the trouble-making teens who'd threatened him the first night. “There's a lot he's made up his mind about, unfortunately,” she said quietly, mostly to herself, but now wasn't the time to worry about that. Now was the time to enjoy being with Jim.

He had to lean over to pick up the table, and she realized with a jolt that she was staring. She shook it off as he put on music much faster than anything they'd danced to before. His words and expression were an open challenge, and she returned his mischievous smirk, planning to meet that challenge head on. She didn't really know what the quickstep was, but that wasn't going to dampen her confidence. “All right, teacher. Show me how it's done."

He very nearly spluttered at her comment, and it was beyond him to keep the roguish grin off his face when he replied. "The answer to that will always be naughty." He lowered his voice an octave and added, "Very, very naughty..."

But then of course she picked up the gauntlet and threw it right back at him and all thoughts of Santa and naughty boys and girls and idiot brothers evaporated. Well... Maybe not those about naughty boys and girls. Not all of them anyway.

"Alright..." He moved a couple of steps back from her. "Not I'm not expecting you to do anything near this, not for a long time. But eventually? You will." He snapped his fingers in time with the music a few times and let the rhythm rise up from his toes. And then, he was off, feet not touching the floor for more than a split second at a time. It had really been much too long since he'd had the chance to make dancing any real fun, and for a few minutes, he lost himself to the music as he flew across the floor, making use of every bit of space he had.

When the song drew to s close, he finished by sliding across the floor on his knees to where she stood, leaning back on his arm and grinning up at her, out of breath and more alive than he'd felt for a long time. "And that? Is the quickstep. An improvised version of it anyway."

She raised an amused eyebrow at his response, trying to ignore the way that low voice sent a little shiver down her spine. “Then I'm not sure Santa's going to bring you any presents, Jim,” she said, feigning regret. “Though I think I've been a nice girl, aside from secretly meeting you for dance lessons, of course.”

Her eyes were fixed on him as he took a few steps away and started to move. This time her staring was perfectly justified, and she watched him fly across the floor with movements much quicker than any dance she'd previously seen. The dance seemed to fill up the whole room, and she couldn't have looked away even if she'd wanted to. A little thrill went through her at the thought that maybe someday she'd be able to move like that. Not maybe. Definitely. I can do this. She took careful stock of the rhythm of his steps, wanting to learn the basics as quickly as possible. The movements suited him so well, and as he slid across the floor on his knees to stop in front of her, his exquisite eyes were alive with something completely captivating.

She smiled down at him, obviously impressed, though there was still a challenge in her eyes. “I'd say there's no question that you do an impressive quickstep, Jim. Now I just need to know whether or not you can teach it.”

In a fluid move, he rose off the floor and met her challenging gaze. "Wouldn't have brought you here if I couldn't," he stated matter of factly and took her hand to lead her out to the center of the floor.

Before showing her the steps, he started the music again and moved to stand in front of her. It was so freeing somehow to be doing this, to be dancing like this, even if he'd spend most of the night teaching and not dancing.

"Okay, so here are the basics. Watch my feet, I'll do it slowly to start with." Without touching her, he showed her the very basic steps once, then caught her eyes again. "You should have those down before we break for dinner. After that, I'll show you some more. I hope you don't mind working up a sweat, because I'll keep upping the pace every time you've gotten used to it. Now, again."

After showing her the basic steps twice more, this time taking her right hand in his and resting his left one on her shoulderblade, he let go. "Good. Now keep repeating those while I watch." He stepped away from her, but not before, almost as an afterthought, he leaned in and muttered conversationally. "And I guess I'll just have to find something else to unwrap if Santa doesn't come through."

“Prove it,” she replied, unable to keep the grin off her face as he led her out onto the floor. She knew full well that he could teach her, but she liked throwing challenges at him, liked seeing the way it spurred him into action. Watching him was incredible, but she couldn't wait to be dancing herself. She knew this wasn't going to be as easy as the waltz or even the rumba, but she so rarely got the chance to actually challenge herself. It made her feel almost giddy.

He told her to watch his feet, and she did so, recognizing the movements and committing them to memory. The next words surprised her slightly, as she'd completely forgotten about dinner, but now wasn't the time to worry about it. “I'd be disappointed if I didn't work up a sweat. I want to learn this correctly,” she said firmly, moving her feet in an attempt to imitate the steps he'd demonstrated. The first time it wasn't quite right, but she tried again and again, and gradually it started to feel a little more natural.

She moved with him as he took her hand and demonstrated the steps again, eyes fixed on his feet again. Her mind was completely focused on learning the moves, until his muttered words sent another little shiver down her spine. He couldn't possibly mean... She felt the blush creeping up her cheeks again. She already knew he was a bit of a flirt, but if he was going to tease her she didn't want her reaction to always be blushing and embarrassment. There was no reason to treat the comment any differently than their usual banter. "That isn't the sort of comment that's going to earn naughty boys presents," she chastised, throwing him a smirk before she looked down at her feet and repeated the steps again.

He watched her as she gradually got used to the steps and grinned a little when she ignored her slight blush and returned his comment. So that's how it was going to be, huh?

"In my experience, presents aren't always the most interesting things to unwrap. And by your earlier statement, I'm not getting them either way, so I might as well stay naughty." There was a slight undercurrent of something far less innocent than their playful banter in his voice and he stepped closer as she kept repeating the steps he'd shown her.

"Keep going," he instructed her and put his hand on her lower back, applying a bit of pressure. "Unlike the rumba, you arch your back in this one. If I was in front of you, you'd arch your midsection into me and keep your face turned away." As she followed his instructions, he gradually increased the pressure of his hand until she did an acceptable arch. "Good, now hold that and keep going." He removed his hand, but let it hover just behind her and just as he'd expected, she straightened her back a little after a few more steps. "Ah-ah, keep the arch," he tapped her back with his fingers. "More... Little more... I know it's a strain, but it'll pass. Eventually. Now keep it there. You don't need my hand to keep your posture, do you?"

There was something in his voice that made it difficult to treat the words as nothing more than light-hearted banter. She didn't really know what to make of the fact that his voice was making her stomach squirm. “Well, good luck finding something you're allowed to unwrap that's as interesting as presents from Santa,” she replied lightly, trying to keep her voice from betraying how much he was affecting her.

And then his hand was on her back, and she nearly jumped at the touch and then chastised herself for being ridiculous. She was a little grateful that he was standing behind her and didn't have a clear look at her face, because she wasn't entirely sure what her expression was revealing. It was getting difficult to ignore her reactions to him. She could admit to herself that he was uncommonly handsome, but that didn't really explain the fact that his hand on her back was making her heart race a little. She shouldn't be reacting this way, and she made a firm vow to simply continue ignoring it and focus on the dancing.

Slowly arching her back under his touch and repeating the moves felt slightly unnatural, but she tried anyway, raising her arms so that she could try to approximate the full stance. “Turn my face away? Like this?” she asked, turning her head to the side and continuing to repeat the basic steps. When he removed his hand she tried to preserve the arch, but a moment later he was tapping her back again, and she returned to the slightly straining position. When he asked if she needed the hand, she replied, “No, I think I've got it.”

Her rebuttal was a sharp reminder that he shouldn't be even thinking about flirting with her in the first place. It was also a very clear message that even if he should, she wasn't interested. Which was probably for the best, anyway.

So he did his best to focus on the dancing. It was why they were there after all, and he didn't really mind the opportunity to get to know her better.

He trailed his eyes over her discerningly as she corrected her stance, smiling at her stubbornness to get it right herself. "Not bad for a beginner," he commented, then stepped in front of her. His one hand took hers, the other went to rest on her shoulder blade. With the way the dance was, they ended up being rather closely pressed against each other, but it couldn't really be helped. Not if she wanted to learn. "Now when we start picking up the pace, you'll want to use me for balance, and I you. Especially when I do this," he grinned and turned them both in a fast, small circle, making sure she didn't actually trip, but giving her a taste of how fast she needed to move.

It was a slight relief when they stopped talking about Santa and presents and unwrapping. She had only vague images of what that might entail, but it wasn't helping with her resolve to ignore the strange reactions he elicited. What was undoubtedly harmless flirting from his perspective was making her feel things she most certainly shouldn't be feeling around him.

She grinned a little at the praise and redoubled her efforts to hold the uncomfortable arch. The basic steps were already ingrained in her mind, but she had to focus to keep her body in the proper position. He took her hand and moved into the stance with her, and she resolutely ignored the way a shiver went down her spine at having him so closely pressed against her. “Use you for balance?” she repeated, not quite understanding. It caught her slightly off guard when he turned them in a fast circle, and she very nearly tripped over her own feet. Her grip on him tightened slightly in surprise, but his body pressed against hers was also supporting her. “Ah,” she said, the balance comment making more sense now. “Do that again?”

"Oh, you liked that, did you?" he teased her lightly and spun her around again, then led her across the floor. It was nowhere near as fast as it needed to be, but it would still give her that feeling of practically running that was necessary.

He kept to the basic steps, but gradually increased the tempo, just as he'd said he would. Whenever her stance slackened a little, he'd slide his hand down her back and tug her back into the right one.

It was only when they were both more than warmed up and breathless, her more than him, that he paused. "You're getting the hang of it," he noted and leaned on the kitchen counter to take pour them both a glass of water. "How're your feet doing? Sore yet?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I did," she confirmed. "And this time I'll even be ready for it." It was much easier to spin the second time, and she couldn't hold back a happy laugh. The smile stayed on her face even as she focused on the steps.

Jim gradually increased the pace, and she couldn't seem to stop smiling even though it was sometimes hard to keep up. This dance was so different than what they'd done before – it felt as if they were literally running around the room – but she loved feeling a little breathless. She told herself firmly that it was only the exercise that made it difficult to catch her breath; Jim being so close to her had nothing to do with it.

Occasionally her stance slipped, and each time she resolved that she wouldn't let it happen again again. It invariably did, and gradually she accepted that she wouldn't always be able to do everything perfectly the first time. That didn't mean she wasn't going to try.

When he stopped, she took a moment to catch her breath and gratefully accepted the glass of water. “Thank you." She was still grinning even though she was tired. When he asked about her feet, she replied, "Not at all," then considered for a moment and amended her reply. “Well, maybe a little, but it's nothing I can't handle.”

The sound of her laughter brought a smile to his face as well, made him feel light and happy and like there was nothing in the world he couldn't do. It was evident that she wasn't going to complain or back out when things got difficult. Even if she was used to being on her feet all day, he had no doubt she was going to get sore from this. And not just in her feet either, but in every part of her body she was using now that she didn't exercise regularly.

"I'm sure you can handle a lot more than people give you credit for," he smiled at her and downed the rest of his water. "You don't give up easily. Which is good if you really want to learn. You're going to be feeling it tomorrow, though."

Moving to the fridge, he got out a few things to start on dinner. "But for now, I'm getting hungry. Keep going while I cook, though, you need the practice. Maybe I can show you something else after we eat."

He smiled back at her, and her heart did a little flip in her chest. She had to keep concentrating on the steps, but somehow she still managed to lose herself in the dance, in how it felt to be in his arms. Her body ached from the unusual position, and her muscles weren't used to the movements, but the slight pain made her feel as if she was really accomplishing something. Everything about this evening was so different than her normal life, and she wanted to treasure every moment of it.

It was far nicer than it should have been to have someone recognize that she could do more than just wait tables and make coffee. “I don't have a lot of opportunities to do things like this, so I'm not going to waste this one. And if I feel it tomorrow, it'll just remind me that I actually learned something tonight.”

She'd forgotten about dinner, but her stomach suddenly reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch. She raised a curious eyebrow when he said he was going to make dinner. “You're sure you don't want me to cook? You are giving me free dance lessons, after all.”

It didn't surprise him to hear her say she hadn't had many opportunities to challenge herself, but it did frustrate him immensely. "You'll learn a lot more before I'm through with you. Work hard enough, and you'll be tangoing your way into the new year."

He filled a pot with water and put it on the small stove, then pointed a stern finger at her, humor evident in his eyes. "Don't you dare. You've got dancing to do, so get on with it."

With a wink, he turned back to his cooking, grateful for a break from trying to distract himself from the feeling of her in his arms and the way she looked at him when they danced. It still sent little thrills through him, and it was becoming a problem. That she expected to do something in return for the dance lessons struck him as slightly absurd. He'd offered because he wanted to teach her, because he wanted to keep seeing that smile on her face, so it was hardly a selfless act on his part. "This isn't quid pro quo, Uhura. I'm teaching you because I want to, I don't expect anything in return."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject