Author's Note: This work is the sequel to Seventy-Four Hours Later, though enough background information should be provided so that it can be read as a standalone story. Expect slow burn. Slower burn. Slowest burn.

Commander Spock set the PADD on his desk and reflected on the contents of Cadet Uhura's introduction to her senior thesis on frequency harmonics. It was insightful, but also verbose and repetitive in parts. He began considering his corrections to her work when he heard an ear-piercing squeal erupt from the other end of the lab.

His eyes flicked in the direction of the noise and he saw the Orion cadet, Gaila, giggling uncontrollably.

"Is there an issue, Cadet?"

"Oh, sorry, Commander," she mumbled, stifling further giggles and turning back to her computer.

He could see from the reflection in a computer screen to his left that she was toggling between the Academy's private messaging system and the source code he'd assigned her for remedial instruction. Though she had many talents – Orions were famous for their intuition and Gaila was no exception – she was a mediocre computer scientist at best. She might have been good if she really applied herself, but at her current level of effort, she was mediocre at best.

Unfortunately, Spock found that Gaila all too often ended up a slave to her biology, and her education was frequently interrupted by her impulsive need to pursue her male classmates and occasionally, male instructors. He could not fault her for it: she was Orion, after all. Though it was unreasonable to expect her to conform to his far more restrained principles where matters of interpersonal relationships were concerned, she still had the responsibility to perform her duties and complete her coursework, and he often sensed she did not put forth the obligatory effort.

She laughed again and clasped her hand over her mouth.

"I was unaware that reductive regression testing of your algorithm would be so stimulating," Spock mused.

"Oh, it's- you know," she stammered, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"Perhaps you should focus on your task," he said, eyeing the time on his computer terminal.

Spock had asked Cadet Uhura to meet him in the basement cafeteria to discuss her paper and he was due to be there in precisely 27 minutes. The likelihood of Cadet Gaila completing the program to standard in the allotted time was infinitesimally small.

"I'm almost done, sir," she called.

Twenty minutes and several more mirthful outbursts later, he informed her that he needed to leave.

"Oh, right," she cried. "I know you have places to be."

Her tone seemed suggestive of something, yet he often found he lacked the same precise skill at deciphering body language and tone as many of his non-Vulcan counterparts. Gaila quickly trotted out of the laboratory. Spock was preparing to lock it up for the night when he noticed she'd failed to power down her computer terminal.

He had signed for the access card to this laboratory and therefore he had ultimate responsibility for the equipment. It had been a minor oversight to allow Gaila to leave without returning the terminal to proper standard, one he did not intend to repeat.

As he approached the console, several words caught his eye and he realized she'd left her private message screen active. It was a gross breach of privacy to read what she'd written, but the content was difficult to ignore once he spied his name.

Gaila: Do you want to go to the Brass Oyster tonight? I met this guy Lex there the other night and he has this friend and asked if I could bring someone.
Nyota: Can't. I'm meeting Commander Spock for dinner in the basement cafeteria.
Gaila: You're meeting Commander Spock for dinner?
Nyota: To discuss my thesis.
Gaila: That sounds more like a date
Nyota: It's not a date. It's Commander Spock. And the basement cafeteria.
Gaila: It's just the two of you, eating, talking...
Nyota: So?
Gaila: Those things are both on the checklist
Nyota: What checklist?
Gaila: The "Am I on a Date?" checklist
Nyota: There's a checklist?
Gaila: Yes
Nyota: Share please
Gaila: Off the top of my head?...
Gaila: How do you know each other?
Gaila: Are other people going to be there?
Gaila: Are you in public place?
Gaila: Is there food?
Gaila: Is there alcohol?
Gaila: Was the word "date" used?
Gaila: Do they seem nervous?
Gaila: Did the other person obviously take a shower today?
Gaila: Who is paying if goods or services are being exchanged?
Gaila: Do you know each other's friends?
Gaila: Do you know each other's families?
Gaila: Do you want to see this person naked?
Nyota: That seems pretty vague. And why does it always come down to being naked with you?
Gaila: I bet he looks good naked. Good for a Vulcan I mean.
Nyota: He's my professional mentor. I don't think about him being naked.
Gaila: I bet you do
Nyota: I bet I don't.
Gaila: Liar. You LIKE him, don't you?
Nyota: No.
Gaila: …
Nyota: Do you really think people will think this is a date?
Gaila: Yes
Nyota: It obviously isn't.
Gaila: It obviously COULD be
Nyota: I seriously doubt that's what he had in mind when he asked me to meet him in the cafeteria.
Gaila: So he asked YOU out?
Nyota: He asked me to meet him in the cafeteria. He didn't ask me out.
Gaila: You could get a lot of guys. You're pretty, and you pick the one guy who would never notice.
Nyota: I didn't pick him. NO ONE'S BEING PICKED.
Gaila: I have to go. He's kicking me out of the lab. Apparently, he has somewhere to be! HAHAHAHAHAHA

Spock powered down the computer terminal and quickly reflected upon the situation. Did Cadet Gaila really perceive his shared meal with Nyota as a possible romantic encounter? Did Cadet Uhura? He was due in the cafeteria in four minutes and was uncertain of the best way to approach this revelation.

He could find no logical solution that did not implicate him in infringing upon Cadet Gaila's privacy. Of course, she had left the terminal unattended, which was a violation of the Academy's security policies, but that was irrelevant to the situation.

Regret was illogical, yet he knew his actions had been imprudent when he'd read the message transcript. Vulcans admired curiosity, but deeply respected privacy. It was a unique paradox. He turned to exit the lab when Gaila burst back in, clearly short of breath from running.

"Oh, sir, I just realized I forgot to turn off my work station," she gasped.

"I have attended to it," he replied. "I must go."

"You didn't- uh- you know, read? Yeah, never mind," Gaila murmured. "Have a good night, Commander Spock."

He nodded to her as she left the room and followed her into the hallway. It was 1928 hours and the building was quiet. He moved quickly to the turbolift to descend to the basement, wondering if he was inadvertently "going on a date," as humans referred to it.

He arrived at the cafeteria exactly at 1930 hours. The eatery was quiet and sparsely occupied. Cadet Uhura was alone, sitting with her back was toward him, chewing the thumb fingernail of her left hand. It was an unsanitary habit, but one he was aware that humans often performed when experiencing anxiety.

He cautiously approached her and began to wonder if the parameters of preliminary human courtship had to be mutually agreed upon for them to be valid. If he did not consider it a date, did that mean it could still be a date if she thought it was, or if some third party thought it was?

"Good evening, Cadet Uhura," he said.

"Commander Spock," she said rising in deference out of respect for his rank.

He motioned for her to sit. She had yet to obtain food and was looking at him expectantly. He realized he'd left the PADD containing her paper in the computer laboratory. How curious that he would make such an absentminded error. Cadet Uhura folded her hands across the table and began chewing on her bottom lip.

Spock was unsure how to proceed. He had certainly not intended this as a romantic meeting. He was her advisor, nothing more. The Academy had policies in place prohibiting any such relationship between them and he wished to clear up the confusion without admitting that he had knowledge of her private conversation with Cadet Gaila.

Then it occurred to him that Cadet Gaila had actually outlined the specific criteria for categorizing one's social engagements as dates. He would simply need to analyze her proposed list and devise an informal algorithm to avoid future misunderstandings. A simple solution.

"So, do you want to get something to eat?" she asked.

"Yes," he agreed, rising from his chair and motioning toward the food line. "After you."

As they proceeded toward the cart with the utensils, he recalled from memory Gaila's list, and instantly noticed the ambiguous nature of each individual item. For instance, they were in a public place and there was food, but did that imply that this was or wasn't a date?

He had eaten lunch with the Academy's Chief of Physics earlier that afternoon and there had been no indication that anyone perceived their shared meal as a date. But then, Dr. Kolba was Bolian and male, so it seemed there might be additional considerations, such as whether the individual was of the sex to which one was attracted and of a compatible physiology.

He was momentarily adrift in his own deliberations and didn't notice they had both reached for the same bin of spoons until their hands brushed one another and he experienced a fleeting, pleasant sensation.

Her forefingers had touched his inadvertently, very much like the Vulcan practice of ozh'esta. The finger embrace was a deeply personal display of affection among his people; he retracted his hand without taking a spoon. She'd quickly pulled back her own hand and looked at him innocently.

He did not consider this a date, but it was clear that this would require further analysis and research.