Hey everyone! My sixteen ideas have multiplied into many-many (try thirty-something) more, and yet all I find myself able to write is the companion/distant-cousin-twice-removed-fic to Shatterwing's lovely piece 'First Salad of Many'. So standard disclaimer applied; I don't own the boys. No, really. I don't. What gave you the idea I did? Really? I look like a creative genius? Thanks! But really, they ain't mine.

Spock exhaled, which was most definitely not a sigh. His project (regarding the long term adaptability of Terran and Vulcan plants to extra-terrestrial climates) was fascinating, to be sure. It just failed to capture his attention. He had been forcibly volunteered (yes he was completely aware of the contradiction in that statement) to help with this project in botany (of all things) during his shore leave. To be honest (behaving otherwise is illogical) he would rather amuse himself by discussing Pon Farr with the Doctor aboard the Enterprise rather than help botanists who continuously insulted him when he back was turned, based on their faulty assumption that as a half-Vulcan his hearing was not as acute as that of a full-Vulcan.

And to continue he would most definitely rather be spending his shore-leave watching Doctor McCoy and Jim argue, in some sunny-but-not-Vulcan-hot place on Earth, eat illogical foods which served no nutritional purpose and conclude the day with a light meal in the balcony of the room he would presumably share with Jim, and a night of (in Jim's words) passionate love-making.

A shiver went down his spine at the idea, and he struggled to suppress the emotions he felt as he was sure they would lead to nothing but trouble should the other Vulcans sense them. As it was he was an object of their ridicule. He wondered what would happen once Jim and he broke up.

He paused and re-examined his prior statement. Why would he assume such? Was it a subconscious desire to end the relationship? Surely not. He was happy with Jim. Happier than he could remember being in his entire life. Happy until he thought his heart could burst with joy, until his mind was full of the melody of bird-song and his heart beat fast and light like that of a sehlat.

He did not want to end this relationship. He wanted to keep going, for as long as possible. But he had to face the reality. Lying to himself in the name of optimism was illogical. Jim is a… a dynamic human…

Surely at some point he would get tired of Spock and his inability to relate to humans and human habits. At some point he would have had enough and he would end their… arrangement, and leave Spock because he wouldn't know how to deal with the Vulcan side of him.

It was bound to happen.

It was inevitable. Really. And he shouldn't deny it, because denial is illogical, even though it is instinctive, which leads him to the complicated argument involving instinct and logic and which one should take dominance in which situation, and he really doesn't want to expound because the idea that Jim might not want him as much as he wants him now sickens him to the stomach.

It's a sign of how far he's gone that he feels repulsed at this thought, instead of the fact that he is so deeply affected by his emotional status that it is affecting his work. The only non-Vulcan (an Orion) with whom he works looks at him in apprehension and asks if he can do anything for Spock's condition.

Spock wonders aloud what his condition is, in an aberrant show of emotion.

The Orion (by the name of Y'hala) smiles pityingly, and says it's a condition known as heartache. Despite his mortification, as he makes his escape, he thinks the term is startlingly apt.

.~*~.

As he lies in his stiff bed that night in the sweltering heat he is no longer used to (it had taken him so long to get used to the cold on the Enterprise, and now without it he simply wasn't Home) he dreams unspeakable things, and wakes breathless.

These are not dreams about sex. He has already had sex with Jim, and melded many times as well. He intends to continue as long as he is allowed, because frankly it relieves stress and is quite enjoyable (rumour suggests -and he agrees- that Jim is particularly talented in these areas). Sex does not feature. Much.

What does feature is the idea of a bond. Not a temporary mating bond like the one he shared with T'Pring. Words came to his minds, surprisingly poetic.

Though you may be parted from me, never shall we be parted. Never and always touching and touched…

He wants to know the feeling of never being alone, because people do not know it, but being a Vulcan is stunningly lonely. Once you have touched a mind you will never feel safe in your own. You will always be empty because you know what it feels like to be truly full. And despite this constant and common longing for companionship it is difficult and rare to find a bond which allows for absolute bonding. People bond when they are mentally compatible, but they will forever be puzzle pieces from different boxes that have a similar shape. Even his parents…

He is worried not that Jim will be like that (because if he is imperfect Spock will find it easier to leave him with the hope that there is someone else out there) but worried instead that Jim is the one-in-a-15.67-times-10-to-the-power-of-17-minds that his perfectly compatible with him.

That he can be t'hy'la.

The statistic is so ridiculous that many Vulcans have begun to take t'hy'la as myth, but Spock is utterly certain.

Only t'hy'la feels like home. Only t'hy'la knows your deepest fears despite the complete illogic of it. Only t'hy'la accepts you for who you are.

And the idea of being so (dare he say it? dare he?) lucky (or not. Will Jim leave when he finds out? Will he be ashamed? Will he want a family?) is what causes him to wake up breathless.

.~*~.

Eating meat was an illogical habit which he did not understand, but he could accept that Humans chose to do this and it was their behaviour, which he should not criticise. So he did not criticise. Because it was illogical to concern himself about something which he could not change.

Jim gave up meat for him.

The development stunned him. He returned home and his welcome was warm indeed, but upon the first kiss he noticed something and to make sure he kissed Jim again. And he spoke without much thinking because Jim had that effect on his sensibilities.

"You do not taste of meat."

Jim grins. This is deliberate. Still too affected to understand he says, "It is not necessary," to which Jim says that he knows. And the idea that Jim gave up something that he so prized sends Spock into a different place, a place where t'hy'la is not inconceivable with Jim, a place where it might just work.

And it is not so much the sacrifice that matters. It is the fact that the sacrifice was made in the hope that Spock would remain with him. Vaguely in the night, stepping from a stunned daze he thinks that Jim might have been thinking the same thoughts as him all this while. Thinking that eventually Spock would bore of Jim. But it's not possible. Surely Jim knows. Knows that Spock… knows that Spock loves him, right?

It's simply not possible he doesn't know.

But Spock knows he has never once said it. And so he says it (just in case). He whispers it, and thinks Jim is sleeping because he isn't moving or talking; only sleeping calmly with deep even breaths.

"I love you, t'hy'la."

Every sentiment he has ever felt towards this man is summed up in these four words. Even the intense hate he felt for Jim in the beginning, because intense hate is an intense feeling and better than indifference (which cannot be intense).

Some part of him that has been permanently changed by the Narada incident thinks that if he hadn't hated Jim in the beginning, maybe things wouldn't have worked out as such. Maybe he'd have been assigned to another ship, and he would have died. And they would never know each other… It is illogical to believe in fate, and the thought is too painful to complete. Too painful to fully contemplate.

So agonizing (physically painful), that he wants to make sure Jim knows of his feelings, just in case they die tomorrow. And Spock can know he has done one brave thing in his life.

"I love you, t'hy'la."

Jim spins and his smile warms Spock to the bones. It is a smile which he will never forget, which is what he hopes to see before he dies.

"I love you too, Spock. T'hy'la." (Spock believes Jim knows what that means)

The mind-link flutters open and fills his mind with unspeakable joy. He is contentsatisfiedhappypeacefulrestedcelebrating and full in love. There is no word for the emotions that seep through that incomplete bond, and Spock can't compute how it will feel when their bond is complete (when, not if) because it's unspeakably beautiful.

He can't imagine why he missed this. Why he didn't notice that Jim loved (Oh! Glory!) him. He loved Spock. Jim loved him. And to bask in the greatness of the love Jim has for him (him!) is like basking in gentle sunshine, after a cold day, and he could do this forever, as long as the universe stretch away from him. To feel like this, oh! He would follow Jim to the ends of the Earth, and Jim would follow him, and they would follow each other!

It was an illogical human habit to doubt, and he should have known better, and he thinks maybe he'll never doubt Jim again.

Well? How is it? It's long, and fluffy. I hope it's not OOC at the end. Either way. REVIEW!!!!

Nature abhors dimensional abnormalities, and seals them neatly away so that they don't upset people. Nature, in fact, abhors a lot of things, including vacuums, ships called the "Marie Celeste", and the chuck keys for electric drills.

Love,

Lady Merlin