"Checkmate," Jim said, sliding his fingers across the screen of the PADD that was placed in his lap, a small, triumphant smile on his face. He was sitting up, something he's been able to do for a week and already aching to do more. There was an IV in his arm, pale tape sticking to his skin, pulling at the fair hairs that resided there. Spock tried not to notice the changes the chemicals did to his body, the way his scent differed by just a fraction. He was alive, he was well, it was enough.

"So it seems," Spock replied, taking the PADD between his fingers and setting it on the dark bedside table. He was light with it, but the slight tap it made was still loud within the nearly-silent room. They didn't speak much during their match, and though Jim's thoughts were focused on the game, Spock's were focused on him. That was why he lost.

That was his excuse, but he lost often, even when it was his intent to win the game.

It was silent again, and Jim all but squirmed in his bed, his breaths loud and deep, his gaze anywhere but Spock's. His back was stiff, almost as straight as the man next to him, and the lack of talking was so… eerie that even Spock felt unnerved.

"Captain—"

"Spock—"

They both stopped, cutting each other off, blinking. Jim's smile grew into a dazzling grin, "I thought we established that you would call me Jim when we were off duty."

Inclining his head, Spock replied, "Of course, Jim."

Jim shook his head, turning to look out the window, at the miraculous view of the city located outside. It was midday, the sun bright and high in the sky, the sky itself a dazzling blue without any clouds dotted across it. Spock could agree just as well as anyone that it was pleasing to the eye.

"Bones says that he'll release me in a couple of weeks. A week and a half, if I'm good."

"You do not sound very certain."

Spock didn't have to see his face to know the smile was still there, "I'm not very good."

"Then perhaps you should be on your best behavior."

"Perhaps," Jim mused, looking back to him, their gazes finally locking, blue on brown. "But maybe I don't want to be released in a week and a half. Spock…" Jim trailed off, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "I don't know what to do from this point."

"I do not understand," Spock quietly admitted. He had gotten orders from the admiralty the day he had awoken. He would be on leave for three months before—

"I mean, okay, yeah, I know what I'm supposed to do, but… I'm not… I thought I had made it clear that I wasn't meant to be captain."

Spock was, once again, taken aback by the words of Jim Kirk. It was not a common occurrence, but when it happened, it usually hit him hard. "Captain— Jim— you sacrificed yourself for your ship, for your crew, surely that shows that you are fit—"

"I wouldn't have had to do that in the first place if I had been responsible, Spock." His words were harsh and cut through his easily, "Just like with you and the volcano, just like what Pike said…"

Spock leaned forward, influenced by a sudden spike of emotion that he did not want to analyze, "Jim," he said slowly, his voice low and quiet, eyes sparkling with something dangerous, making Jim swallow thickly. "I will serve under no man but you. If I must, in order to be under your command once again, I will. But I have no intention on going back to Starfleet if you are not there with me."

Jim was silent, and Spock leaned back, his expression clearing. Almost as though he was realizing himself, Jim shook his head quickly, "Yes, all right, Spock. I'll give it a try."

Both knew it wasn't that easy, but even still, Spock had to press down the urge to smirk or smile or even grab Jim's fingers and rub them raw. It was not the first time he had to fight such influences, nor would it be the last.

"Another game, Jim?"

Another smile, "Yeah, I'd like that."