This is my first Star Trek fic, so please go easy on me. I've gotten positive feedback on Tumblr, so I hope it's well-received here, as well.

He visited her when they took shore leaves. She was American, eigtheen, unsure what to do with her future. She had needed assistance reaching a book on a rather high shelf in the public library. When he told her about what exactly had happened, he said he'd passed her as she stared upward, her eyes seemingly unfocused. He'd offered help, and she'd told him the title she desired. There were bumps along the spine along with the written words. It hadn't hit him until she ran her fingers over the cover that she was unable to see.

It was something she'd lived with her entire life. She didn't want pity, although most people she met didn't understand that. They were overly-friendly, eager to help. She often wondered what pity looked like, because it felt awful. It felt like shame.

Her mother said it wasn't a bad thing. Her father said she'd been blessed. She wouldn't say anything, not wishing to upset them, but wondering if she'd ever meet someone who would not constantly watch their words.

She looked forward to when he would visit. He was always cheerful, never rude, often unaware of her blindness. He would hold her hand as they walked, and help her cross the street, but never brought it up, happily talking about his job as navigator of the Enterprise. Her parents were very pleased that she'd befriended him. "An intelligent young man with such an exciting occupation. You best keep your eye on him."

She most certainly would not. He was a space explorer, always in danger. She would not form such a strong attachment, nothing beyond casual friendship. She hardly saw him, she would argue; he was very busy. "But he insists to visit you every chance he gets," her parents reminded her. And she would not have the strength to make them silent, just took their banter and pretended to listen.

Today was one of those rare days when it didn't rain. He was there with her, sitting on a bench near the lake. There was a light breeze; she could hear the waves crashing every ten seconds, longing to feel the wet sand between her toes.

"Would you like to move into the shade?" He broke the silence, his legs swinging next to hers. "The sun's a bit bright today."

She thought for a moment, shaking her head. "I'm fine. Are you alright sitting here?"

"I'm more than fine." He placed his hand over hers. "As long as you're here."

She giggled, feeling a light blush warm her cheeks. He would say the sweetest things, make her smile. Her parents' words nagged at her mind, but she tried to ignore them.

"Do you miss home?" she asked.

He sighed, long and troubled. "I…suppose. Mother and Father are always so worried when I am home. They try to convince me not to go back. They remind me that being on a Starfleet ship is very dangerous. They just…"

"They don't like to live with the uncertainty, do they?"

"No." His grip on her hand tightend. "But they don't understand how very…thrilling it is. To be out in space, seeing new planets, discovering new corners of our galaxy and those beyond…it's incredible. And I love it."

"You seem so lively when you speak of it." She smiled sadly.

"It is something very dear to me. Of course I would speak highly of it."

"I can tell. Your voice…it gets so…" She trailed off. "I only wish I could see your face do the same."

The words reached her ears a second after they left her mouth. She snatched her hand away, embarrassed. It was something she'd always wondered, but would never dare say aloud.

He said nothing, and she couldn't gauge what he was trying to say or do. Tears stung at her eyes, and she were about to ask to be taken home.

"I…" He swallowed audibly. "I would never want you to…feel hurt about this."

He was being careful, the one thing she never wanted from him. She turned to him, a frown on her face. He stopped stuttering instantly.

"If I can't see your face…could I please feel it?"

Her hands were her eyes. This was how she read things, how she knew what was in front of her. How she knew that her parents' noses matched her own and her grandmother had numerous wrinkles. It wouldn't be any different.

"Of course," he answered, hesitantly taking her hand again. He placed it on his cheek, and she began to gently run her fingers over it. There was a hint of stubble, just slightly. It became warm under her touch, and she smiled a bit.

"What color are your eyes?"

"Blue."

"Like the ocean?"

"Yes. Exactly."

She'd never seen the ocean, but she knew it was like the lake, only bigger. Water was calming, buoyant; his eyes must have been the same.

"Your hair feels like a sweater," she said, her fingers getting tangled slightly. "Very thick."

"Got my papa's hair," he laughed. "Curly and short."

"Your nose is rounded…"

"Mama's, naturally."

"And your…" She froze when she felt her fingertips against his mouth. His lips were soft, full; he breathed lightly onto her skin. She couldn't pull away, unable to move her muscles.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.

She nodded. She couldn't do this. Not now, not ever. It wasn't going to work, she couldn't wait for some nineteen-year-old Russian space navigator who could get killed at any time, it just wasn't -

"May I ask a question?"

She nodded again, her throat unable to form words.

"May I…may I kiss you?"

She blinked, her eyes staring vacantly at him. What would she say to this? Of course he couldn't kiss her, it wouldn't be smart, and she was determined to…

She leaned forward and closed her eyes, one hand on his cheek and the other on the back of his neck. A little shock passed through her spine; his lips were much softer when they were kissing her. He stroked her cheek gently, cupping it as they both pulled away.

"Thank you," he said, the smile in his voice reaching her ears.

"I…I should thank you, as well," she replied, her voice back.

The rest of the day was spent on the bench and at the shore, the lake water washing over her feet. He walked her home, promising to see her tomorrow, as he'd have to leave early the day after to go back. He kissed her again, another spark in her bones.

She decided that night that she would take a chance on Pavel Andreievich Chekov.

The prompt: Imagine person A being blind from birth. They meet Person B when they're older, and they start dating. One day, Person A asks for permission to touch Person B's face. Person B agrees, and then Person A gently touches Person B's face, "seeing" with their hands Person B's features for the first time.