Meandering.

Spock never considered the value of such an endeavor; to journey without a destination or even a mode of transport planned after sunset?

Highly illogical.

But when one appreciates or even revels in another's company, Spock concedes the practicality of indulging in such a practice. The one who swiftly persuaded him to change his mind has her small hand tucked in his arm at the elbow. The location of Nyota Uhura's hand is perplexingly pleasing to Spock. He imagines his mother's laugh at such a proclamation coming from her only child.

Love makes the mundane divine, my darling.

Spock glances down just as Nyota glances up and the smile she offers makes his heart beat faster in his side.

Divine, indeed.

It is a fairly warm night in late spring; San Francisco is in the middle of what Humans consider a heat wave. The temperature, even close to the water, is hovering at thirty-nine degrees Celsius. Advisories blare from the news feeds; stay indoors or in heavily shaded areas. Stay hydrated.

Spock is finally able to forgo his customary thermal undershirt.

Nyota doesn't seem to find the temperature too disturbing. She tells him that while Nairobi doesn't get as hot as people seem to think (average is around twenty-five to twenty-seven degrees Celsius all year round) there is less fluctuation than most.

So tonight, after an agreeable evening of Deltan fare and a jazz retrospective in an intimate venue, Nyota convinced Spock to walk the long way to his apartment to prolong the enjoyment of the evening. Spock finds he cannot reasonably deny Nyota's request so she takes his elbow and they begin walking at a leisurely pace toward his apartment.

"Have you ever explored the neighborhoods around your apartment?" Nyota asks as they pass a closed shop; the merchandise in the window suggests it is some sort of shoe store.

"I have had no need," Spock says. He does not wince as Nyota presses her hands and face against the glass to see. "Nyota, you may trigger any security measures," he warns.

"I just… You're right. You're going to have to remember this place." She moves away from the store so she can see the signage. "There are always gems in neighborhoods, places that aren't suggested on maps or don't come up on searches. Places that exist purely by word of mouth and loyal customers. Maybe even handed down from grandparents and great-grandparents."

"I have never considered thus," Spock admits. "I find you have a way of romanticizing what I have considered irrelevant detail."

Nyota tilts her head and with a fond smile holds her hand out for him. "Thank you," she says.

"It is a proclivity you and my mother share." Spock allows himself the emotional indulgence of sending a wave of affection toward his mother through the familial bond, and takes Nyota's hand. Bright happiness and contentment come through the telepathic contact and Spock is pleased.

The rest of their constitutional is enjoyable. Spock is able to speak upon a great many topics outside of Nyota's disciplines and still have an engaging conversation. She tells him when she is not interested in a subject or if certain principles elude her understanding. It is refreshing to relate to a Human who does not feel the need to inflate their intelligence.

The stimulating exchange causes Spock to be less cognizant of their journey than normal. He recognizes they are merely a street away from his residence when Nyota pauses and cocks her head. "Shh," she hisses.

Spock begins to inquire when he hears something as well. "A feline," he says after a moment; unfortunately he has come across quite a few stray or abandoned animals on the streets of San Francisco. Spock always makes a point to call Animal Control with the exact location the animal was sighted. A small task to ensure the safety of both the animal and the populace.

"Yes, I know," Nyota says absently as she steps toward the shrubbery lining the street. "I'm trying to determine the poor kitten's location."

"Nyota it is illogical to think one can discern the age of a feline based on its – " It squeaks again, very high, and Spock has to concede the validity of her statement. He glances at Nyota to find her expression smug.

"You were saying?"

Spock does not huff. "Why do you wish to locate this animal?" he asks instead.

"Because it could need our help." Nyota parts the foliage with her hands carefully. "It could be hurt."

"Or it could merely be conversing with its own kind," he says.

Nyota shakes her head and her earrings chime softly. "No, it sounds sad and alone and I can't hear any other animals answering. I know what you're thinking," she says as Spock opens his mouth to retort. "Just trust me. And help me find it."

Spock does not wish to find it. He does not wish to step off of the orderly sidewalk and into the grass and search through bushes for an animal who very likely does not-

"Spock!"

He is moving before fully cognizant and he darts forward, afraid of what he may find. Has she suffered a dire laceration, has the animal proved to be older and larger than she anticipated and thus has torn her flesh –

Spock lifts Nyota out of the bush bodily, carefully making sure her precious brown skin is not torn and that her hands and arms are still whole. His heart thuds in his side as he turns her hands and wrists to check range of motion. Dimly he realizes she is speaking.

"Spock? Oh, Spock, mhibu. Mimi ni faini. Spock?"

Dear one. I am fine.

The words cut through the fog in his mind and Spock blinks. Nyota is looking down at him because he is suspending her in midair, keeping her feet from touching the ground.

"You can put me down now, mahabubu," she says as her hands cradle the sides of his face. They are cool against his skin, and he leans into the touch as he gently places her back on the ground, following her down so he may press his forehead against hers. He senses no recrimination nor anger at his display. Quite the opposite; Nyota is flattered that she inspires such a reflexive offer of aid.

Spock does not know how to tell her he would tear the world asunder if it meant she would never know fear.

"Apologies," he starts, but Nyota tuts gently. A hand drops to his side and he feels a rush of shame at his erratic heartbeat and blatant overreaction.

"You don't get to apologize for being yourself, not in this relationship," Nyota whispers. She slides her forehead against his until she can pepper Spock's temple and cheek with kisses. "I'm fine and you're fine," she says against his skin.

"Then what caused you to cry out?" Spock asks, and there is hardly any petulance to be found in his tone.

Nyota leans back to look up at him. "I found the kitten," she says. "It's small and malnourished. Can you help me get it?"

Spock gently moves Nyota aside and parts the herbaceous border where the cries of the young feline have turned plaintive. It is filthy with burrs all over its matted fur of varying shades of grey. It is so small Spock is able to gather the entire animal in his hand and he feels it shake as he lifts it into the night air.

"Oh, malaika kidogo, you are gorgeous, aren't you?" Nyota coos at the mangy ball of fur and bones.

Spock is unimpressed.

"Nyota, while I am aware your xeno-linguistic skills are unparalleled, am I to understand you expect this animal to comprehend you?"

Nyota glances up at him in exasperation. "It's proven that domesticated animals have a limited understanding of words in any language they are raised in."

Spock frowns as the animal takes to licking its papery tongue against the side of his thumb. It is strange, bordering on a tickling sensation. "What do you wish to do now?"

"We're going to take it back to your place and give it a bath and something to eat," Nyota says.

"Nyota, I do not wish to become caretaker to this young cat," he says. A reasonable stance to take when one has literally plucked an unknown animal from the shrubbery.

"I would do it, but I can't," she says. Spock is aware of the no pet rule in the dorms, but remains unaffected. "Please? Just until we find it a nice home?"

"Your use of we is highly distressing," Spock says as Nyota gently tips the kitten into her hands.

"How can you say no to these eyes?" Nyota holds the kitten to her face and smiles as it butts its head against her cheek gently.

Spock does not find himself moved by the cat. "Nyota," he says. "I have no desire for a feline."

And this is the story of how Spock, briefly, becomes a cat owner.