A/N: This is a relatively short vignette by comparison to the previous chapter, but I like to think of it as short and sweet. I don't often write scenes as heavily in dialogue as this one is, so I consider it something of an experiment. I do so love to think of Spock as a gentlemanly knight-in-shining-armor, and I've endeavored to portay that here. I would sincerely like to thank those who reviewed the previous chapter; I appreciate your feedback greatly. As far as recommended listening, I think Karen O.'s "Hideaway" sets a lovely tone for this piece.

Knight in Shining Armor

Having resided in two decisively temperate locales characterized by immaculately cloudless skies and seemingly incessant sunshine, Nyota could not accurately describe herself as the consummate weather aficionado prepared for all manner of unexpectedly turbulent tempests, and as such, she found herself pinioned within a thunderstorm not unlike the manner in which a miniscule insect is targeted by an angry deity.

The campus was ordinarily characterized as modern and dignified, the quadrangle composed of flawlessly rolling green hills marred only by unbroken expanses of pavement that stretched seemingly to the unfailingly blue, fathomlessly deep ocean in the distance. The buildings were of modern construction that allowed their gargantuan stature, but the architecture was devoted wholly to elegant marble inlaid with whorls of intricate metalwork, steep stone staircases leading to Romanesque arches that towered impressively over the soaring doors. It was an awe-inspiringly majestic environment, backlit by resplendent, refracted sunlight and antediluvian willow trees that swayed in the salty ocean-kissed breeze, but the same could not be said of the fateful day on which she found herself trudging to an anatomy course in rain that poured torrentially not unlike that associated with a biblical flood.

To one such as herself, wholly accustomed to pleasantly clement climates and balmy summer nights, the precipitation felt not unlike malevolent cubes of frigid ice coursing down her back, liquid nitrogen conspiring to thoroughly saturate her cadet reds to the bone, plaster her well-cared for and once-lustrous hair so unflatteringly to her skull that she would appear not at all unlike a drenched dog or a drowned rat, inundate her boots so completely that each squelching step felt akin to repeated instances of being submerged. She tucked her PADD close to her chest so as to protect the precious technology, hunching over the valuable as she trudged doggedly to class, feeling ever more as though she were swimming ineffectually through a tsunami.

"Cadet," came a serenely composed voice she knew all too well at her back, smooth and unruffled as silk, eloquent and genteel as cashmere, rich and purring as velvet.

She turned, brushing obtrusive wetness from her lashes and working to dislodge doused strands of dark hair from where they lay seemingly permanently secured to her soaking brow. He had at some point appeared on the path behind her, his ever-immaculate form preserved by the protective penumbra of a broad black umbrella, severe dark hair as flawless as she had come to expect, the well-cut black uniform that shielded his lissome body from view every bit as thoroughly, primly pressed as she was thoroughly drenched. Peals of evocative, undulating thunder rolled within some far-flung dark sky behind him, the wind howling shrilly not unlike a distressed damsel in a vintage horror film.

"I trust you are unaware that classes have been cancelled due to the inclement conditions," he called above the turbulent gale as he moved close enough to bring her into the welcome shelter created by the umbrella, briefly transferring its stem to her hands so as to dexterously shuck his jacket. He lovingly draped the garment across her shivering shoulders with a cursory, affectionate squeeze before reclaiming the umbrella, and she appreciatively clutched the oversized, blessedly waterless material around herself, very nearly moaning at the heavenly heat that lingered yet from his furnace-like body.

Confident that no cadet other than herself was foolish enough to brave the intemperate squall and therefore certain that none would witness it, she leaned to fondly kiss his cheek, considering it a personal victory when he did not pull away for the sake of public appearance as he would have done in normal circumstances, but rather tolerated the affection. "You're my hero," she murmured gratefully, struggling not to be startled when another boom of thunder rolled slowly and deafeningly across the dark horizon.

He bowed his head almost bashfully, a flattering jade blush rising to his angular cheekbones. "As an instructor at this facility, it is my responsibility to protect my students," he responded, his dark eyes sparkling with something akin to flippancy or coquettishness when he lifted his head.

"Of course," she deferred with a knowing smile, huddling closer to his side so as to profit from the sweltering warmth that he projected like a glowing, effervescent flame. He interpreted her desire and extended the arm not encumbered by the umbrella around her waist, seemingly uncaring of the bone-deep dampness that was beginning to soak through the jacket and consequently through his sleeve.

"How did you know that I would be out here?" she questioned as they began to walk, presumably back to her room.

"Your academic diligence suggested that you would attend class regardless of the severe weather, and your propensity to oversleep provided a less than 11.8% chance that you would consult campus bulletins before departing," he responded fluidly, effortlessly reining in the flapping umbrella with an enviable grace as an acutely violent gust of wind conspired to rip it from his hands.

"I appreciate you being my knight in shining armor," she said dramatically.

"A curious and rather labored metaphor, Nyota, as the English monarchy that would knight me has been long-since abolished and I am clearly wearing no armor," he responded factually, but the ever-so slight curvature of his lips, a miniscule bending upward that was scarcely visible for the dark afternoon, signified his understanding of the term. Her drenched feet and his supportive arm led them ever closer to the dormitory, isolated by graceful magnolias from which rainwater streamed and high, well-manicured hedges.

Suddenly aware of the fact that they were blatantly exposed within the deserted quad, she leaned close to his elegantly peaked ear to be heard over the howling gale. "What if someone sees us?" she hissed.

"Statistically improbable, as the vast majority of students have departed for spring break. The 7.6% who remain are likely confined within their dormitories due to the distasteful weather and therefore will not notice our passing," he responded rotely.

The amiable conversation lulled into a brief pause that to her felt meaningfully pregnant with things not said and possibilities not broached. She longed for the promisingly not-so distant future in which their blossoming relationship would no longer remain a thing to be sequestered in desolate secrecy between shadow and soul, in which their affection would rise from concealment like a phoenix from the ashes and be permitted to flourish uninhibited by the darkness of social convention.

And yet, as tangible as such a future seemed, it was also at once wretchedly out of her grasp, not unlike the manner in which Tantalus' fingers brushed teasingly near to the apple and water that so tormented him, only for both to be immediately rescinded. She ached to dine with him in a public restaurant without being burdened by the fear of encountering a classmate, to be gossiped about and envied by covetous comrades who would marvel at her boyfriend's otherworldly handsomeness, to girlishly discuss his endearing quirks and talents in bed at drunken sleepovers. But she could not, and such an actuality was at times disappointingly bleak, wildly and inconsolably lonesome in that she was unable to shout her love, boundless and thrillingly new, from the rooftops as she so desperately ached to.

"Maybe someday, we can let someone see us," she murmured with thoughtful affection as they entered the open-air overhang that marked the lower floor of her dormitory. At last safely concealed from the precipitation, he compressed the dripping umbrella and tucked it securely beneath his arm.

The resulting smile was so luminously radiant that she would readily have signed her name in blood if asked to wager upon the fact that she may or may not have caught a brief glimpse of perfect teeth. "I would like that immensely," he responded, voice suddenly, shockingly, wonderfully tender.

When they reached her door, she keyed in the appropriate sequence of numbers that would deactivate the locking mechanism before shrugging her shoulders to push his oversized jacket from them, only to be halted by a warm hand pushing the fabric back in place.

"Keep it," he insisted adamantly, squaring the garment on her shoulders as his dark eyes effervesced with levity, his elegant hands lingering ever so slightly upon her shoulders before dropping back to his sides. "I'm quite certain that you can return the garment to me at some point in the future. Perhaps when we next encounter one another during my introductory phonology course next Wednesday," he posed.

"You do realize that there are numerous people in that class," she responded dryly, wondering if he had perhaps lost his brilliant mind at some unknown point in the duration of their excursion across campus. "How we will explain the fact that your teaching assistant is borrowing your clothing? What if someone sees?"

His eyes shone like the lone beacon in a threatening harbor lashed by torrential seas. "Then, quite simply, someone sees," he responded in arguably the most lighthearted tone he had ever and she thoughtfully suspected would ever address her with. She did not doubt that she looked unlike a fish removed from its natural environment, mouth agape and eyes bulging with astonishment at his shockingly uncharacteristic blithe attitude.

He unfolded the umbrella without any acknowledgement whatsoever of his previous statement, perching it stylishly above him as he stood poised to depart. "Good afternoon, Nyota. As always, your company has been immensely pleasurable," he stated, dipping his head bashfully for a sweet and achingly brief kiss before sauntering down the hall purposefully.

"Thank you for saving me," she called after him, dimly aware of the manner in which her voice reverberated throughout the corridor, though slightly muffled by the bothersome crackle of the rain as it collided with the nearby pavement.

At the distant end of the hallway, he paused in his stride and turned to address her, handsome face silhouetted against the churning overcast backdrop of the tempestuous sky and characterized by an expression of straightforward, utmost confusion at her statement. "You've no need to express gratitude," he responded. "As your partner, concerning myself with your welfare is not a favor that would necessitate gratitude; it is both a duty and a privilege."

She found herself momentarily breathless. The word "partner" was unprecedented and had never before been bandied around, neither by her nor him. "Partners?" she questioned fervently. "Like, boyfriend and girlfriend?"

He appeared somewhat perplexed. "I suppose, if you wish to describe our courtship with such juvenile colloquialisms. Were you under the impression that our relationship is of a dissimilar character? If so, I suggest that we discuss-"

"It's all right, Spock," she confirmed. "Don't worry about it. Just a girl thing. 'Partners' is fine. We're partners," she affirmed, allowing herself the indulgence of a clandestine smile.

His lips curved minutely. "Of course. I look forward to enjoying your company once more next Wednesday."

She leaned against the wall with what she would later be disgusted to identify as a girlishly dreamy sigh more becoming of a fairytale princess than an intelligent xenolinguist, watching his lean form until it disappeared into the distance. With that, she entered her room and collapsed face-first onto the bed, inhaling the sandalwood musk of his jacket and dreaming of the future.

A/N: More to come in the near future. Thank you immensely for reading, and as always, I would be delighted to receive your feedback.