Archive of Our Own

‘Jim. Why don’t you just ask him?’

Bones, his accent thickened by the whiskey they were drinking, lifted his tumbler to take another sip. He eyed Jim from across the table as he sat back in his chair, the bright lights of Sickbay hardly seeming to bother him despite the lateness of the hour. Jim, on the other hand, had a headache forming, and he wasn’t sure he could blame it entirely on the lights or the booze. Shore leave was fast approaching, and with the crew splitting off for four weeks, Jim was determined to spend his free time with Spock. His First, his friend, meant so much to him, and after the disastrous kal-if-fee on Vulcan, Jim admitted to himself that friendship wasn’t the only thing he felt for Spock. T’Pring’s rejection, though harsh and bewildering, had also inspired a guilty rush of joy in Jim, and after feeling Spock’s desperation as the ahn-woon had tightened around his neck, his first thought upon waking had been to comfort him. Jim had finally recognised the attraction that had been building for years as something more than mere desire, and having booked a villa in the south of France for the duration of shore leave, he wanted to use the opportunity to show Spock just what he felt for him. It was a risk, but every time Jim saw him, his heart felt so full that he could hardly contain it. If Spock didn’t reciprocate – and the very thought tore at him – he would beg him to stay on the Enterprise, and swear never to mention it again, no matter how much it hurt.

‘How, though?’ Jim replied, frowning into his glass. ‘’Hey, Spock, instead of spending shore leave in San Francisco as usual, how would you like to come to a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere with me and only me for a month?’’

‘Jesus, Jim, you’re makin’ yourself sound like a serial killer,’ Bones drawled, giving him a long-suffering look. ‘Just ask him if he wants to go to France with you. I’m sure you know him well enough to do it without freaking him out.’

Jim nodded slowly, a soft smile playing at his lips.

‘Yeah, I guess I do. All he can do is say no, I suppose. You excited to see Joanna?’

‘Is that even a question?’ Bones snorted, placing the tumbler back down. ‘Of course I am. This tin can doesn’t make enough Earth stops, that’s for sure.’

‘Don’t let Scotty hear you call her that,’ Jim warned, ‘but I’m glad you’ll get to see her. Give her my love, won’t you?’

‘Yeah, sure.’

At that, Jim stood, knocking the remainder of his whiskey back with a grimace.

‘Thanks for the booze and sympathy, Bones,’ he coughed, squeezing his shoulder. ‘I’ll drop in on Spock on my way back to my quarters.’

Bones raised his eyebrows, putting the top back on the whiskey bottle.

‘What, now? Try not to slur your words too much!’

Jim laughed cheerily, throwing him a wave over his shoulder as he left.

‘See you, Bones!’

He wasn’t drunk exactly, but he was a little tipsy as he wandered back towards the corridor off which their quarters were situated, feeling rather more confident than he had done before. He smiled at passing crewmembers as he went, dutch courage having dampened his nerves enough that he went straight through his quarters to the door that stood between the fresher and Spock’s bedroom, rapping smartly upon it. It was only when Spock answered, blank of expression in his meditation robe, that Jim remembered that it was really rather late.

‘I’m sorry, Spock,’ he said, mortified. ‘I didn’t realise the time.’

‘I was not asleep,’ Spock replied, gesturing him inside. ‘Is something the matter, Captain?’

Jim shook his head, struck breathless by the way he looked in that sleek Vulcan robe, high cheekbones that would make any Terran model jealous highlighted beautifully by artificial candlelight.

‘I… just wanted to ask you a question,’ he murmured, feeling slightly dazed.

Spock remained silent, an eyebrow raising in question, and so Jim took a deep breath and bit the bullet.

‘I was wondering whether you’d like to come to France with me during shore leave – if you have no other plans, that is.’

The few seconds before Spock spoke was agony for Jim, who fought the urge to shift nervously beneath those dark eyes.

‘I was planning on remaining in San Francisco,’ he finally replied, and Jim’s heart sank. ‘However, I am perfectly willing to accompany you if that is what you desire.’

A smile spread slowly across Jim’s face, eliciting a softening in Spock’s features that few but he would have noticed.

‘Yeah?’ he grinned, briefly clasping Spock’s bicep. ‘That’s fantastic, Spock, thank you. I’ve booked a villa if that’s acceptable.’

‘Perfectly, sir. Will the doctor be also in attendance?’

‘For once, no,’ Jim replied, still on a high from the yes he’d been given. ‘He’s visiting Joanna.’

Much as he loved Bones, he was grateful for the opportunity to have time alone with Spock. He just hoped it wouldn’t all end in tears. Spock bobbed his head in response to his explanation.

‘The invitation is appreciated.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Jim smiled, the excitement within him rising as he thought about what those few weeks held in store. ‘Sorry for the intrusion, Spock.’

‘It is of no consequence,’ Spock replied, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver through Jim that he barely repressed. ‘Goodnight, Captain.’

‘Night,’ Jim murmured, walking back through to his own quarters with a smile that only grew once the door had closed behind him. Four whole weeks alone with Spock, and perhaps by the time they returned to the Enterprise, the two of them would be more than friends. His smile dimmed a little as he realised that he didn’t know exactly how he would achieve that, but he supposed he’d go with what felt right, as he always did. Instinct had moulded their professional relationship into the deep friendship it was today, and he was sure that instinct would mould it further still. He would go slow; he would be gentle. Spock deserved nothing less.

Stripping off his uniform, Jim all but collapsed into bed, calling the lights down. Despite the occasional partner he may have had, most of the time, there was far too much space beside him at night. The other side of the bed was cold, and he curled his duvet tighter around himself to fight off the chill. He wanted Spock here with him, wanted to hold him as they slept, and though it was a comfort that he was only next door, that wasn’t close enough. They’d wasted enough time, and if Spock reciprocated his feelings, Jim would gladly have him in his bed forever. Rolling onto his side, Jim closed his eyes and settled in for sleep. Less than two weeks until shore leave. He couldn’t wait.

On the morning that shore leave began, Jim found himself in the transporter room, waving off the last of his crew. Spock was beside him, as he habitually was, when Bones stepped up onto the platform, his grumbling about having his body pulled apart and put back together rather ineffective when one considered the smile that threatened to creep across his face. Jim knew how long it had been since he had seen his daughter, and was glad that he had the chance to again.

‘Spock, keep an eye on him,’ Bones ordered, stabbing a finger of his free hand towards them. ‘Don’t let him get into any fights and for God’s sake, watch what he eats. If you come back heavier, Jimbo, you’re going straight back on that diet.’

‘Yes, mother,’ Jim said good-humouredly, resigning himself to the fact that he would be on that diet come their return. ‘Send Joanna my love.’

‘Will do! Have fun in France, boys.’

His final, mischievous glance at Jim before he disappeared was enough to make heat rise in Jim’s face. Spock looked over to him in concern, the dark, form-fitting clothes he wore making him look even more attractive than usual.

‘Are you quite well, Captain?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Jim choked, unable to look directly at him for fear that his attraction would show. ‘And it’s ‘Jim’, Spock. We’re off duty for a month.’

Spock inclined his head, allowing Jim to head onto the transporter before him. Scotty, who had been waiting patiently by the controls, caught their attention with a polite ‘Sirs.’

‘Ready when you are, Mister Scott,’ Jim nodded, excitement building. ‘You know where we’re going.’

‘I do, Captain,’ Scotty grinned, fingers flying across the controls. ‘Have a nice trip!’

Before Jim could reply, he felt that familiar undoing as their bodies were transported across planet, materialising just in front of their lodgings for the month. The villa was situated in the Provençal countryside, somewhere in between Aix-en-Provence and Gorges, quiet and peaceful and beautiful. It was altogether unlike the big cities that Jim had occasionally enjoyed staying in during time off in the past, but although he personally didn’t mind the thrumming vibe of a place containing so many humans, he knew Spock would be uncomfortable there.

‘So, here we are,’ he said, uncharacteristically nervous as he gestured up at the pretty villa before them. ‘What do you think?’

Spock hitched his bag higher on his shoulder as he studied the pristine white walls and greenery surrounding them, his expression unreadable.

‘The villa is pleasing,’ he said simply, holding an open palm out towards Jim. ‘After you, Captain.’

Jim did as he was bidden, opening the door with his fingerprint and entering with no little sense of awe. Their home for the next four weeks was spacious and sprawling, still containing all of the modern features they would need while retaining its original wooden features. The front door led right into the living room, complete with a log fire – not that Jim would be needing it – and a reading nook, which Jim was rather more excited about. Though the villa was breath-taking, he found himself watching Spock’s face more than his surroundings, hoping desperately for his approval. Dark eyes swept the expanse of the living room, his expression remaining neutral, but when he turned back, Jim could read a certain satisfaction there.

‘You have chosen well, Jim.’

Jim let go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, taking Spock’s bag from his shoulder, holding up a hand before he could protest.

‘Come on,’ he said warmly, beckoning him forwards. ‘I’ll show you your room.’

They passed the kitchen and the dining room on the way to the stairs, which were wide and ornate, and, not for the first time, Jim was impressed by his choice.

‘Why did you decide on France?’ Spock asked, so close to Jim as they climbed the stairs that his breath tickled the back of Jim’s neck erect.

‘Uhura suggested it, actually,’ Jim replied, shivering slightly. ‘She came here a few years back, and loved it. Fluent in French now, of course.’

‘Unsurprising,’ Spock deadpanned, his dry humour making Jim smile.

‘Mmm. I have no idea how she does it.’

Spock’s room was the first right at the top of the staircase, and Jim ushered him in with a mixture of hope and nerves. The room was fairly spartan, but homely, and as spacious as the rest of the villa, decorated in warm colours. The bed beneath the window was enormous, and looked fantastically comfortable, with fluffy pillows piled up against the headboard. Jim had made certain that the environmental controls were adjustable enough for a Vulcan occupant, and that there were extra blankets and candles in one of the cupboards, just in case Spock needed them. It was hot enough that he’d already stripped down to a t-shirt, but Spock was still in his cashmere sweater, and Jim suspected that he’d be wearing long sleeves for most of the trip.

‘Do you… do you like it?’ he asked, when no reaction came.

‘I do,’ Spock replied, his face softening minutely in response to the nerves that must have been showing. ‘I do, Jim.’

‘Great,’ Jim grinned, rubbing his hands together – and completely missing the light flush that passed over Spock’s face. ‘I guess I’ll let you get settled in then. I’ll be right next door – do you want anything in particular for dinner?’

‘I have no preference,’ Spock said absently, running his fingers over the duvet.

‘Pasta tonight then, if that’s all right. We should be pretty stocked up here, but there’s a small supermarket down the road if we run out of anything.’

Spock nodded, taking hold of the bag that Jim had left by the bed.

‘I would like to cook also, if that is acceptable. Perhaps on alternating days?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Jim grinned, looking forward to the opportunity. ‘Chess later?’

‘Naturally,’ Spock said primly, to which Jim responded by squeezing his shoulder, wary of lingering too long, however much he wanted to.

‘I’m going to unpack. I’ll just be next door if you want me.’

He wandered into his own room with a kind of lightness in his chest, his face aching with the smile he couldn’t repress. God, he was head over heels. Everything Spock did made his heart skip a beat; it was a wonder that Bones wasn’t harassing him about his heart rate. Unpacking slowly, Jim considered the four weeks they had alone with a little trepidation and a hell of a lot more excitement. Though he was determined not to frighten Spock off, he also didn’t want to dance around the issue anymore. Instinct would drive him, as it drove him in his work, and whatever his response, Spock would know by the end of their visit how Jim felt about him.

Once he had unpacked and settled in, he made a start on dinner, making a sauce with onion, garlic, peppers, carrots and tomatoes and leaving it to simmer before boiling water for the pasta. By the time he was dishing the food out, Spock had emerged from his room, and was setting the table as he picked up the plates.

‘Hope you like it,’ Jim said hopefully, sliding the plate in front of him as he sat.

‘I am certain that I will,’ Spock replied, waiting for Jim to pick up his cutlery before he did. ‘Thank you, Jim.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Jim smiled, watching him cut his food precisely with such affection that he was surprised Spock couldn’t feel it. ‘Have you been meditating?’

Nodding, Spock swallowed, gesturing with his fork to the food on his plate.

‘This meal is quite satisfactory.’

‘High praise,’ Jim grinned, popping another mouthful in himself. ‘I’m fairly excited to see what you come up with tomorrow.’

‘It will be vegetarian fare for myself, but I do not object to preparing meat for you if you wish.’

‘That’s sweet, Spock, but you don’t need to do that. If I want meat, I’ll make it on my days.’

‘Have you an itinerary for this trip?’ Spock asked, tongue darting out to lick away a drop of sauce from his lip.

Jim was transfixed, his answer delayed as his train of thought was lost, but when Spock raised an eyebrow, he came back to himself.

‘Not exactly, he replied hastily, a little flustered. ‘There are some places I’d like for us to visit – Gorges du Verdon and Saint-Remy-de-Provence in particular – but nothing’s fixed. We can just play it by ear.’

The ending phrase had Spock’s eyebrow hiking even higher, and Jim laughed aloud, so full of love he felt he could burst. As they ate, he could feel Spock’s knee a hair away from his, the air between their bodies palpable in their closeness. Tentatively, Jim straightened his leg, moving agonisingly slowly as they talked until his foot brushed Spock’s own. For something so small, it gave him a surprising thrill, particularly when Spock didn’t move away, continuing to eat his dinner as if nothing had happened. The intensity of Jim’s emotions almost frightened him; the need to be with Spock and the joy that such simple contact gave him was overwhelming, but he couldn’t think of it as a bad thing. He just hoped that Spock felt the same way

Conversation was interspersed with comfortable silence, and even when they weren’t talking, Jim found himself staring at Spock’s face, finding it difficult to tear his eyes away for even a second. He still couldn’t believe that Spock had agreed to come with him, especially so quickly and easily, and that thought alone made him feel just the slightest bit more positive about confessing to him.

When dinner was done, Spock cleared the table as Jim set up the chessboard, having made sure that there was one in the villa as soon as Spock had agreed to come. There was something comforting in this familiarity, but the fact that they were alone was a change that both excited and frightened him, his hands trembling a little as he set up the pieces.

‘Are you quite well, Jim?’ Spock asked, his eyes warm and gentle as he approached.

Jim ached to touch him, but he didn’t want to frighten him off by being too forward.

‘I’m fine,’ he said softly, smiling to reassure him. ‘I think you’re playing white this time, aren’t you?’

‘Affirmative.’

Spock dropped into the armchair across from him, folding long legs beneath the table, and made his first move within a matter of seconds. Jim, naturally more instinctual in his game, wasn’t far behind.

‘Can I ask you something?’ he blurted, in the middle of Spock’s careful consideration of the board.

‘Of course,’ Spock replied, his eyes only raising from the board when Jim hesitated. ‘Jim?’

Jim’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, trying to work out the best way to form a sentence.

‘I just wanted to know why you agreed to come with me,’ he eventually settled on, watching Spock’s face carefully. ‘Of course, I’m grateful that you did, but I am curious.’

As Spock considered his answer, Jim found himself searching for a clue to his reaction in that guarded expression, finding little to reassure him. But then those dark eyes softened, and he felt himself relax.

‘Of all the crew, it is you that I am closest to, Captain. I enjoy your company, and was grateful for your invitation. It was only logical to accept.’

Jim had never heard such emotion categorised as logic, and he found himself beaming brightly, his joy irrepressible. For somebody as reserved as Spock to admit what he just had was nothing short of miraculous, and he appreciated it enormously.

‘Thank you, Spock,’ he said warmly, only smiling wider at the quizzical look that was cast towards him.

Then Spock made his next move, and the smile dimmed as one of his knights was unceremoniously removed from the board. Talking could wait; he had a game to win.

The next few days were spent in quiet bliss, uneventful apart from their ventures out into the countryside, and trips to the local shops and market. Though admitting his feelings was always at the back of his mind, Jim was thankful for a bit of R&R, and Spock seemed relatively content too. Still, a week into the trip, Jim had begun to get restless, and when Spock suggested that they visit Gorges du Verdon that day, he readily agreed. A river canyon close to the Riviera, the Gorge was a great place to hike, and Jim was excited to stretch his legs.

By nine that morning, he had dragged Spock into the hovercar he had hired, practically vibrating with excitement. Spock, who had his legs folded in what must have been an uncomfortable position in the passenger seat, looked rather more apprehensive.

‘Captain, would you not rather I drive?’

‘You saying I’m a bad driver?’ Jim challenged, his easy smile softening the question.

‘Not at all, Captain,’ Spock replied smartly, one hand wrapped around the inner door handle. ‘Rather that I would prefer to arrive at our destination with all my limbs intact.’

Jim choked on a laugh, incredulous about what he’d just heard.

‘You get cheekier by the day, Mister,’ he berated, setting off with barely even a lurch. ‘I’m perfectly safe on the road.’

Spock, with lips drawn into a thin, pale line, didn’t reply.

When they arrived, neither were particularly worse for wear, though Spock did look a little frazzled, his exit from the hovercar slow and unsteady. Excitedly, Jim led him towards where the hiking trail began, grateful for the relative isolation. The only thing better than being with Spock was being alone with Spock, especially in a place as idyllic as this. Sneaking a glance at him, Jim was struck anew by how beautiful he was, with his fine hair and dark eyes and long, lithe limbs, driving him forward far faster than Jim’s own legs ever could. Of course, it wasn’t just his appearance that attracted Jim; it was his mind and personality too. Jim had never met anyone who lit him up inside like Spock did, setting a fire in his ribcage that never died down, and sometimes, he wondered how Spock had never noticed that he was burning for him.

‘Jim?’ Spock called, having somehow ended up quite far ahead. ‘Do you require aid?’

Embarrassed, Jim shook his head, hurrying to catch up.

‘Thanks, but I’m fine. I wasn’t concentrating, that’s all.’

Spock lingered until they were right beside one another, then allowed him to walk on ahead, so that he was the first to reach the first viewpoint, his mouth falling open as he caught sight of the gorge. He was in awe of the beauty of the place – the lush green in contrast with the steep white cliffs, the high, rolling hills and dramatic drops, and the clear aqua blue of the Verdon River running through the canyon. As he stared down into the gorge, Spock drew level with him, so close that their arms brushed. Their proximity made Jim shiver, his muscles stiffening in the effort not to let it ripple through him. When he glanced up at Spock, those beautiful dark eyes were fixed so intensely upon him that he felt frozen beneath them, and it was only when Spock spoke that he regained control.

‘It is certainly picturesque. Perhaps we might descend into the gorge for sampling purposes?’

To anybody else, the question may have sounded flat, but Jim heard the slight rise in inflection there, a tell of excitement in Spock-speak. Jim found himself wearing an affectionate smile, unable to prevent the curve of his lips even if he wished to.

‘Of course we can,’ he replied, feeling a ridiculous rush of emotion as Spock’s eyes lit up. ‘I bet you’ve brought your tricorder, haven’t you?’

‘Naturally,’ Spock sniffed, and Jim’s smile widened, his hand ghosting over Spock’s lower back.

‘Come on, then. The quicker we get down there, the more shiny things you can collect.’

Spock’s eyebrow rose at the comment, his mouth opening, but as Jim continued to grin, he shook his head minutely, whatever he had been planning to say apparently escaping him.

‘After you, Captain,’ he settled upon, beckoning him forth.

Jim looked up at that gentle, stoic face, his smile unfaded, and obeyed.

Even two men as fit as they found the descent into the canyon difficult, the journey long and steep, and though Jim admired the view before him, he was grateful when they reached the bottom. Here, the clarity of the green-blue water was breathtaking, and as Jim looked up at the high walls of the canyon, he felt a sense of satisfaction at having accomplished the climb.

Spock was already in the shallows of the river, clearly in his element as he bent to scan the water, his brow creased in concentration. Though he should really have been admiring the beauty around him, Jim was admiring the beauty before him instead, his gaze lingering hungrily upon the lines of Spock’s body. In spite of the heat and their intense exercise, he was still immaculate, his civilian clothes fitting perfectly against his slim figure, and his hair sleek and shining. He was absorbed in his sampling, his attention entirely taken by the tricorder as he waded deeper; Jim loved seeing him so happy. Smiling softly, he wandered away a little to look down the length of the canyon, considering how displeased Spock might be with him if he suggested canoeing. A sharp hiss of breath had him turning back, and it was with a cold flush of horror that he saw Spock lose his footing on the slippery rocks, and before Jim could intervene, he went tumbling into the river.

‘Spock!’

His name came tearing from Jim’s throat as he fell beneath the surface, his dense bone structure dragging him under far too quickly, and Jim bolted over when he didn’t immediately come up. He picked his way hurriedly over the damn rocks, fear choking him as a plume of green blood billowed through the clear water. His hands plunged blindly beneath the surface, finding and feeling their way over Spock’s body until one cradled his head, and the other took the weight of his body, lifting him out of the river. As soon as Spock broke the surface, Jim could see a deep wound in his forehead, bleeding sluggishly, yet what worried Jim the most was that he was clearly unconscious, his features slack and his body limp. Though his weight felt like considerably more than it had beneath the water, Jim carried him easily over to the bank, laying him gently on his back. Quickly comm’ing an ambulance, he called Spock’s name once more, and it was only when he bent to take a closer look at the wound that he noticed that Spock wasn’t breathing.

‘No, no, no,’ he muttered, terror sweeping through him. ‘No, Spock, come on.’

With shaking hands, he tipped Spock’s chin up, sealing his lips over that perfect mouth in an attempt to inflate his lungs. He’d dreamed of kissing Spock for months – years, even – but this wasn’t the way he’d wanted it to happen. After five breaths, he laced his trembling fingers and began compressions over his heart, his eyes filling with tears.

‘Come on, darling,’ he whispered, his only strength remaining in the arms that were locked above Spock’s abdomen. ‘Breathe for me.’

His muscles were aching from the effort by the time he leant down to push air into Spock’s mouth once more, panic rising the longer he remained breathless. As he pulled away in despair, hands moving exhaustedly back to Spock’s abdomen, there was a spluttering sound, and he looked up in hope to see Spock roll unsteadily onto his side, water spraying from his mouth. Jim fell upon him with a cry of relief, the sense of it so profound that he lost all his inhibitions, drawing his miserable Vulcan into his arms and rubbing his back as he coughed and wheezed.

‘You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,’ he said tenderly, nuzzling into his soft hair with a quiet sob. ‘I love you so much.’

Spock shivered violently, one shaking hand rising to fist in the fabric of Jim’s shirt, eyes squeezed shut. Jim cradled him gently, watching his head loll with a renewed sense of panic. He knew he was babbling, knew he was confessing everything under the sun in his desperate attempt at comfort, and when the ambulance began to descend, he brushed a sweet kiss against his brow.

‘Thank God,’ he said hoarsely, closing his eyes in relief. ‘Spock, the ambulance is here.’

He stroked the pad of his thumb over one high cheekbone, kissing him once more, and Spock turned into it, soft, dark eyes briefly fluttering open to meet his before the paramedics descended, and he was taken from Jim’s arms.

Hours later, after Spock had been swept away by medics, and Jim had been promptly barred from following, Jim paced anxiously across the waiting room. Bones had beamed in from San Francisco after Jim had called him in a panic, neither of them entirely trusting the depth of the doctors’ xenobiology training, and was now helping treat Spock. Jim’s nails bit into his palm as he considered how close he had been to losing him, and how stupid he’d been in ignoring how he felt for all this time. If Spock had died – and the very thought made him go cold – he would have regretted wasting so much of it.

‘Jim.’

He whirled around so fast that he nearly tripped over his feet, staring wildly at Bones, whose expression said little.

‘He’s going to be okay,’ Bones continued, and the sense of relief was so profound that Jim felt faint. ‘That knock on the head looked bad, but it’s relatively minor – just keep an eye on him for the next 48 hours in case he has a concussion. They’ll be discharging him soon.’

With the waiting room empty but for Bones, Jim felt able to show his appreciation. His eyes welled as he stepped forward and threw his arms around him, the tension that he’d held in him all day slowly abating.

‘Thank you so much,’ he said, voice muffled by Bones’ shirt. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if- if…’

Bones pulled away far enough to look him in the eye, smiling softly.

‘He’s fine, Jim. And maybe now you’ll see why you need to tell him how you feel.’

‘I think I already have,’ Jim replied, nerves returning slightly as he recalled all he’d let slip. ‘When we were waiting for the ambulance.’

‘Ahh, I thought he was chipper – well, as chipper as Spock can be,’ Bones beamed, stepping back. ‘He’s awake, by the way, and asking for you.’

‘He is?’

Jim was halfway towards the doors before he’d finished his question, throwing a goodbye at Bones over his shoulder.

‘I hope you have a good time with Jo!’

‘Will do! I’ll keep my communicator on in case you need me.’

‘Thanks, Bones,’ Jim panted, having a nurse point him towards the room in which Spock was lying, the privacy curtains closed around his bed. He approached more slowly than before, not wanting to startle him, but the eagerness within him was almost unbearable. Pushing the curtain aside, a choked sob of relief escaped his mouth as he saw Spock lying half-upright in the bed, a bandage wrapped around his head, entirely awake.

‘Jim?’ he began, looking a little alarmed by the noise he had just made.

Jim couldn’t help it; with only the slightest hesitation, he cradled Spock’s face in his hands, and leant down to kiss him gently. There was an audible hitch in Spock’s breath before his lips softened beneath Jim’s, and he tentatively kissed back, their mouths moving slowly and softly against one another. Jim felt filled up to the brim with love, and he hoped that he was expressing it as he kissed Spock more deeply, his index fingers stroking gently over the outer curve of his ears. When he pulled away, it was done with reluctance, but he didn’t want to overtax Spock after all that had happened. Spock looked punch drunk, his mouth open in a soft ‘o’ and a light green flush spreading over his cheeks. His eyes remained closed for a beat or two after they parted, as if savouring the moment, and Jim couldn’t help but reach for his hands, knowing what he did about Vulcan kisses.

‘Spock,’ he murmured, gently lacing their fingers and revelling in the shudder that it elicited. ‘I don’t know if you heard me when you woke up, but if you didn’t, I need to say it. I love you, Spock. I was planning on telling you during this trip, but then the accident happened, and I-’

He cut himself off before he could choke on the words, Spock’s eyes warm and understanding.

‘I was so frightened, Spock,’ he said, voice hushed. ‘I thought you were going to die right there in my arms, and even though you probably don’t feel the same way, you have to know. I love you so much.’

Flushed a deep green, Spock’s mouth opened, and a few false starts had Jim’s heart sinking.

‘I… I return your feelings, Captain. Jim. Taluhk nash-veh k’dular.’

There was a lightness in Jim’s chest, the likeness of which he’d never felt. His lips curved into a beatific smile, and he allowed Spock to mould his hands as he wished, curling all but two of his fingers inwards and pressing them against his own.

‘What does that mean?’ he asked quietly, so full of love that he thought he might burst.

‘It means that I cherish thee,’ Spock replied, his expression almost shy as he met Jim’s eyes. ‘Typically, it is an expression of love between bondmates, and whilst you and I are not formally bonded, I would hope that it might be a possibility that you would consider in the future.’

‘Of course I would,’ Jim beamed, leaning forward to kiss him again.

Careful not to touch the bandage, he moulded his free hand around Spock’s cheek, lapping over Spock’s lower lip until a gasp allowed him entrance, and he licked his way into the heat of his mouth, tasting him. Spock let out a soft noise that made Jim’s belly fizz, tentatively reciprocating, and it was only when the lack of air began making Jim feel light-headed that they parted, just enough that Jim could lean their foreheads together.

‘You know, you’re clumsy at the best of times, sweetheart,’ Jim said lovingly, carding his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, ‘but to think I’ve been halfway around the galaxy with you, and I could have lost you to a rock and a river…’

He shook his head, the indomitable smile fading as he leant back.

‘I know it was an accident, but please be more careful in future. It was so scary to see you like that, Spock.’

Spock took hold of his forearm, shifting upright in the bed.

‘I will endeavour to do so,’ he agreed, his touch gentle, ‘but perhaps you now know how I feel when you consistently put yourself in danger?’

‘I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way,’ Jim said softly, guilt curling in his stomach. ‘I’ll try too, for your sake.’

‘Thank you,’ Spock rasped, blinking slowly in apparent contentment, like a cat.

The sound of the door opening re-focused Jim’s attention, and he turned to find a doctor entering with a clipboard, a smile on her tired face.

‘Well, Mister Spock, here are the discharge papers,’ she said, her accent thick. ‘When you’ve filled them in, you’re free to go. If you get any nasty headaches, dizziness or nausea, please do come straight back in.’

‘Very well, Doctor,’ he replied, shifting entirely upright under Jim’s watchful eye. ‘You have my gratitude.’

‘And mine,’ Jim added, gathering Spock’s clothes from the end of the bed.

‘Je vous en prie. I’ll give you some privacy.’

She left the clipboard on the bedside table and respectfully withdrew, leaving Jim to help Spock sit on the side of the bed.

‘Want some help?’ he asked, as Spock struggled with getting the hospital gown over the bandage (and his ears).

‘Thank you, Jim,’ came the muffled reply, and Jim carefully began to dress him, eyes lingering a little on the bare skin that was revealed in the meantime.

‘You know, when I thought about confessing my feelings to you,’ he began, kneeling to pull his socks on for him. ‘I imagined exactly the opposite of this.’

‘There is time for that yet, ashayam,’ Spock said lightly, a promise in his words, and Jim rose to kiss him.

‘Can’t wait,’ he murmured against his lips, pressing a few butterfly kisses there for good measure. ‘Let’s get you better first, though.’

It didn’t take long for them to get back to the villa, having been kindly beamed back from the hospital. The abandoned hovercar would be dealt with the next day. Despite having been recently unconscious, Spock looked exhausted, and he was bundled back to bed by Jim as soon as they got inside, another quick change seeming to sap all the energy from him. Jim lay beside him, feeling unnaturally tired himself, cradling Spock against him.

‘Is this okay?’ he asked quietly, nuzzling into Spock’s hair.

‘Affirmative,’ came the muffled response, Spock drawing himself further into the circle of Jim’s arms.

Funny, he’d never taken Spock for a cuddler, but he was glad nonetheless, slotting himself against that lithe body in the way that he’d wanted to for so long. When Spock drew back a little, he reluctantly loosened his hold, only for Spock to clutch at his shirt to prevent him from moving too far away.

‘Jim?’ he murmured, dark, soft eyes meeting his from under long eyelashes. ‘I am afraid that I may not be able to cook dinner tonight. It was my turn to do so.’

‘Oh, is that all?’ Jim asked, relieved. ‘It’s fine, Spock. I wouldn’t let you if you tried. Now sleep for me, hm? I’ll get dinner started later, but right now, I want to hold you.’

At first, Spock’s only response was to cuddle back into him, but then a tired ‘Yes, Captain’ drifted up to Jim’s ears.

‘Are you kidding me?’ he breathed, amazed that even in bed together, Spock would call him –

Spock uncurled from him once more, doey brown eyes blinking up at him. Jim melted, threading a hand into silky soft hair and kissing his crown.

‘Never mind,’ he whispered, tightening his arms and holding him close.

It could wait. They had the rest of their lives to argue.