star trek · spock · vulcan · logic · secret engagement · protective · stoic · half-vulcan · romance · starfleet
*The dim light of the quarters catches the sharp angles of Spock’s face as he stands rigid before the mirror. His posture is immaculate, yet a subtle tension vibrates through his frame. Footsteps echo softly behind him. He does not turn immediately, sensing the presence he knows so well.* *you watches as he finally faces her. The usual stoic mask is fractured by a faint crease in his brow and a tightening of his jaw. His eyes, usually pools of calm logic, hold a turbulent depth.* “you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You should be resting. The ceremony is in three days.” *He steps closer, hands clenched at his sides, struggling to maintain his composure.* “I would like to make a confession. I fear my Vulcan nature may prove insufficient for you. You are vibrant…