Disclaimer: I own nothing except the OC. Star Trek is the property of Paramount, and I, like others on this site, only play with their toys.

What is it with me and insignificant characters? This story follows an unnamed Vulcan from the episode "First Flight", listed as "Vulcan Adviser 1" in Memory Alpha if you're interested. Anyway, I don't own him, and he only has like ten lines, so if you haven't seen the episode, you're not missing much. This story is just for kicks.

"I don't mean any offense, but you and your staff are easily confused by our customs and sayings. I think a cultural attache would be a good idea. You'd learn more about us, and we wouldn't have to waste as much time in our meetings explaining something that to us is perfectly clear."

L'Vek stiffened his jaw and allowed the human officer to proceed him up the stairwell. "Commodore Forrest, although your proposal sounds interesting, I fail to see the logic in investing in this program."

"You want logic, Mr. Adviser?" Forrest challenged. "I think it's very logical to get to know one's allies, so one can learn cultural taboos to avoid, emotional minefields to dodge and the like. And I think we'd be much more apt to cooperate with your timetable for us if we knew you were at least trying to understand us, to get to know us."

The Vulcan adviser raised an eyebrow at his aid and tilted his head. "We will consider it, commodore. But perhaps you could enlighten us as to the type of things you would have us learn in this...cultural exchange, shall we call it?"

Forrest paused. "Well, I imagine question and answer sessions would be fortuitous. You ask the cultural attache about aspects of human culture that you don't understand, and they answer you. Also, if you'd like to observe cultural habits or special occasions, perhaps that could be arranged."

L'Vek cast his eyes downward and did not respond, but turned his mind to any rational excuse he could think of to back out of this cultural exchange. His mate had died nearly fifteen years previous, and less than nine months away was when he would have to face his inner demon again. The last time he had gone through it, a young Vulcan intern at the embassy had volunteered to help him through it, but she had returned to Vulcan since in pursuit of her career. When unbonded males like himself neared their time, the women of the embassy could tell, and decided amongst themselves who would help the male. No doubt that would be the procedure for him in nine months, if his family did not press a mate on him or force him to return to Vulcan. He wished neither; his work was here, serving the High Command and seeing that the human did not trip over their feet in their eagerness to explore beyond their system. And his previous marriage had been unfulfilled, empty...it was a loss to him to lose his mate, but his grief over her passing was short-lived. She never cared for him, nor he for her, and he could only hope that the women of the embassy would be willing to help him again.

He raised his eyes when he heard the clicking of heels coming down the stairwell, and a young woman rounded the corner and looked straight into his eyes. She continued down the stairs, her curious gaze raking over him, then quickly returning to his eyes. He breathed in a calming breath and looked away, but a sharp gasp from her brought his attention back to the woman.

…

It was days like this that frustrated Emmie to no end. Jack Carter was at it again, this time slinking up to her at the distribution console, then later trying to corner her in the break room on her floor. Their old coffee maker was prone to malfunction, so she used that as an excuse to get away from Carter, and one of the secretaries saved her by calling her unwanted suitor away to a meeting. Still, she hiked up to the third floor and used their break room to make some tea, as their stove was also malfunctioning. Her department, the Public Communications Office, was oft overlooked in favor of actual officers, and she was ready to complain to HR in her department about their faulty break room.

Emmie drank her tea on the third floor in blessed silence, but after five minutes, she knew it was time for her to return to work. She hurried down the stairs, thinking it would be a less-traveled route, but she discovered she was wrong when she saw Commodore Forrest and two Vulcans climbing the stairs.

Both of the aliens were older men, dressed as usual in their subdued but ornate robes, austere expressions on their faces and their chins high and proud. She had seen plenty of Vulcans coming and going on the Command level of Starfleet Headquarters, but she had never met one personally. They kept to themselves, and she got the distinct impression that they didn't want to become more social towards humans.

One of the Vulcans, a man with silver hair, raised his head and looked her in the eye, and she paused a millisecond to admire his lovely blue eyes. He held her gaze for a long moment as she continued down the stairs, and she took the liberty of examining the rest of him: delicately pointed ears, a slim nose, and a body hidden by layers of fabric. It was a shame they wore so many clothes; it would be interesting to see if there was a nice body hiding under all those robes to match those lovely pointed ears. But this Vulcan probably didn't even notice her, though she couldn't help but find his gaze again as she passed him on the stairwell.

Unfortunately for her, she was wearing heels that day, and this Vulcan provided the perfect distraction for her to miss a step and nearly tumble down the stairs. Her hand flailed, trying to find the railing, but she felt nothing but air, and then her hand went down to break her fall. But suddenly, her momentum stopped, and she realized she was in someone's arms.

These arms were strong and muscular even though they were veiled by heavy cloth, and she could feel their warmth through the robes. She was pressed tightly to a strong chest that radiated delicious heat, and it dawned on her that she was not being held by a human.

Before she looked up, though, she quickly examined herself and found that she was uninjured. However, the area right below the hem of her pants was also pressed to this warm, muscular body, and unexpected pleasure zipped down her spine as her nether regions rejoiced at the feel of this alien specimen holding her close.

She breathed in a breath to calm herself and was momentarily distracted by a musky, spicy scent that made a fresh wave of excitement pulsate through her core, but finally she calmed herself down enough to dare look into this alien's eyes.

She could have groaned in embarrassment as she discovered it was the Vulcan with the lovely blue eyes and silver hair who was holding her securely to his person, and she couldn't bring herself to relax her muscles when she comprehended that fact. It was bad enough to fall down a stairwell and risk injury, but to fall in front of the Vulcans? Could this day get any worse?

Though she felt like she could cry in frustration, her body was still excited at this strange new contact, and she separated her nether region from his lest he notice just how excited she was. One of his hands was resting on the small of her back and the other supported her left elbow, the warmth of his hands seeping through her clothes. Blood rushed down her body, and heat pooled at the apex of her thighs at the feel of this heat. By heaven...she never knew being held in the arms of a Vulcan would feel this good.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, seemingly absorbed in examining her for injuries, and he finally opened his mouth.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice soft, but trembling with deep, masculine vibrato. She bit her lip to stop her jaw from falling slack; his voice reverberated through her, making yet another wave of arousal crash over her, and it didn't help matter that his voice was low and strangely appealing with a hint of a lofty accent. His voice wrapped around her sense of hearing and caressed it, and she forced her eyes to stay open when they threatened to flutter shut.

"I'm fine," she replied, ashamed that she sounded completely breathless.

"Mr. Adviser," Forrest said, as if he were afraid to speak. They both turned to him. "You can let go of her now."

The Vulcan immediately retracted his hands and backed away, and Emmie leaned against the railing and tried to still her pounding heart. Adrenaline and arousal were still coursing through her veins, and she looked away from her alien savior, aware that her face was burning.

"You've got to be more careful, Ms. Sadir," the commodore continued, sounding as if he were trying to diffuse the heavy tension with lightheartedness. Emmie appreciated his efforts, but it didn't help the fact that she wished she could dissolve into thin air. She'd never been more embarrassed in her life, but she smiled wryly at the human officer and tried to play it off as if it were nothing.

"It's the heels," she said, aware that her voice was trembling. "Missed a step there." She wanted to laugh, to make it seem like she didn't wish she could die at that moment. She could feel the back of her throat constricting with the onset of tears, but she swallowed the tightness and held her chin high.

"You're sure you're not hurt?" the commodore asked, concerned for her now. She took a few more steps down the stairs and looked back up at him.

"Embarrassed, but unharmed, commodore." Forrest smiled and turned to leave.

"Mr. Adviser," she called softly after them. The blue-eyed Vulcan looked back at her. "Thank you for catching me," she said sincerely, offering him a soft smile. He nodded curtly.

"Be careful on these stairs, Ms. Sadir," he said firmly, then turned and followed the commodore up to the next flight of steps. But after she got to the next landing, under the premise of checking her shoes she glanced back up at him, only to find him looking back at her with a pensive gaze. She smiled at him one last time, then nodded and continued on her way.

…

The humans had given L'Vek an office at Command, though he rarely used it. Today, however, he had another meeting with the engineers building the NX-Alpha, humans' first ship designed to go warp 2. The barrage of untamed emotions from the team nearly made him ill, and that was precisely the reason he disliked staying at Command. But this day of all days he had no choice but to linger here. He had been reviewing reports for three hours straight and felt the need to take a break, and he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together.

Though he did not mean for them to, his thoughts drifted back to the day before, to the stairwell and the woman, to Ms. Sadir, as the commodore had called her. He closed his eyes and relived the memory, remembering the strange sensations that had risen up in him as he had held her in his arms. Strange sensations indeed...he could almost feel the foreign but pleasant coolness of her skin, see the delicate curves of her arm, see the shocked and ashamed look in her gray eyes...

His eyes snapped open when he heard the doorbell chime, and he called for his visitor to enter and sat up straighter. His aid strode in, looking irked.

"There is a human woman outside bearing tea," his aid said stiffly. "She insists on visiting you. Should I turn her away?"

"Did she give you her name?"

"She says her surname is Sadir."

L'Vek's serene expression fell slightly, and he swallowed. "Send her in," he said calmly, folding his hands on the desk. His aid frowned, but he nodded and exited the office, and a few minutes later, Ms. Sadir strode in, bearing a mug of tea in her hands as his aid had said.

The woman was dressed in a skirt today that showed off tanned and shapely legs as well as her curves, and he raised an eyebrow at her. It did not daunt her; she walked toward him with her head held high and her gray eyes alight with defiance. His eyes swept over her features, over her thin black brows and her long, dark brown hair pulled back into a loose bun, her thin, aquiline nose and pink lips, her tanned complexion and fiery gaze.

He stiffened slightly; there was something in this situation that didn't settle quite right with him. He wondered to himself if she had come to him of her own volition or if someone had put her up to visiting him. Surely the commodore wouldn't dare interfere with his personal affairs like this? Had the commodore sent her? Humans had the irksome habit of interfering in everyone else's affairs but their own, so if the human officer had put her up to this, it wouldn't surprise him. It displeased him, and he regarded her with a cold gaze.

The aroma of the tea hit his nose when she was barely five strides away from him, and he let the tiniest bemused frown furrow his brow before he let his expression return to cold apathy. She wordlessly set the tea in front of him and pushed it toward him, and he stared up at her in bemusement.

She gestured to the mug. "It's the least I could do after you saved my neck yesterday." He noticed that she spoke with a slight accent, and he found it...intriguing. He immediately berated himself, knowing that he should not find these annoying human interesting in any fashion. They were close-minded and probably neurotic, if his limited exposure to their culture was any indication.

He looked down at the steaming tea, frowning at it as if it had offended him. He didn't want to drink her tea, but his mouth had gone dry for some inexplicable reason, so it would be logical to wet his mouth as to not hinder speech. He raised the mug to his lips and took a sip, then raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"This is...acceptable," he murmured after putting the mug back down on the desk.

"It's green tea with ginger," she said with a soft smile. "I'm glad you like it."

She backed away slightly and turned as if to walk away. "If there's nothing else, I think I'll go now."

He stared at her, then nodded and took another sip of tea as he watched her leave over the rim of the mug. It was only after the door was closed and he was alone again that it occurred to him just what she had done. A human woman, young and aesthetically pleasing (by the standards of her people, not by his), had offered him drink, and he had accepted without question. She had no idea of his unbonded state, so she could not be blamed for her careless flirtation, nor did he know of any human who was aware of the gesture she had accidentally made towards him. To offer an unbonded male sustenance of any kind was to imply that she had the resources to care for him, that she would provide for him. Unintentionally, Ms. Sadir had just offered herself to him as a mate.

He refused to think on the matter further, but he found his thoughts drifting once again to their encounter in the stairwell...

He had heard her gasp and immediately turned, and acting on pure instinct, caught her and held her to him until she steadied herself. His fingers brushed the skin of her arm, and he felt a flood of fear and surprise, then relief, then apprehension and shame. She only raised her eyes to his chest, and he felt her breathing increase for a few moments before she lifted her eyes to meet his.

She captured his gaze and seemingly held him there, gray boring into blue, and he noticed that the scent of her hair, the feel of her pressed to his body felt...

He snapped back to reality and bowed his head over his reports, determined to get some work done before the meeting later that day.

…

The meeting was long and tedious as always, and L'Vek was grateful for it to end. The engineers had come in the room armed with turbulent emotions and half-thought-out facts, and it was little surprise that their requests had all been denied. They stormed out to go back to their drawing boards, and he sighed in relief, ready to escape to the Vulcan Consulate.

"Mr. Adviser!"

He stopped and closed his eyes momentarily as the commodore caught up with him. Forrest smiled politely and stood up straighter.

"I'd like to inform you that if you're still thinking about that cultural exchange program I want to initiate, I found a volunteer to be your cultural attache. I believe you've met her."

L'Vek turned and frowned slightly at the human officer. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Emmie Sadir." The commodore paused, then smiled. "All I ask is that you consider it, Mr. Adviser."

The commodore then strode off with an entourage of officers behind him, and L'Vek stood there with his aid before escaping out into the cold San Francisco weather.