Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, nor any of the characters in the story here.
A/N: Tiny little bit of Space Husband fluff that I wrote on a plane. Note that this is probably not close to any sort of canon in any way. I was bored and drunk characters are fun. Light slash, don't like, don't read. Spock/Kirk, Spirk.
Added Note: The spacing sucked, I get that. I fixed it a bit, so hopefully it's better now. I wrote it on my ipod and forgot to fix the spacing. Apologies!
"Wow, you really weren't lying, were you?" Jim asked, staring slightly open-mouthed at the Vulcan hybrid currently standing -or rather, slumping against the wall- in front of him. Spock closed his eyes, a little giggle escaping him before he could control himself. He clapped a hand over his own mouth. He was going to murder the Captain once he quit feeling so damned dizzy.
"There was chocolate in that." The dish had been exquisite, a native food from the planet they were currently hovering over. But apparently, no one had thought to inform the poor first officer of the ingredients.
"Well, duh," Jim said, finally taking pity on Spock and moving towards him, helping to get one of his arms over his shoulders. Spock allowed this, stiffening and then relaxing involuntarily against him.
"I..." he began, but trailed off, losing his train of thought, something that was a very, very seldom occurrence.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Yes, the brilliant Spock is finally reduced to having /me/ help him. How terrible." He smirked. He couldn't help it: Having Spock in this position was too good. "Let's get you to your quarters."
Spock made a slight sound of agreement, leaning more heavily against Jim as the chocolate spread through his system further.
Jim grunted a bit under his weight, but didn't otherwise complain.
They made it to Spock's quarters without incident (well, Spock did pretty much collapse at one point, a dark green blush tinting his features that Jim found quite distracting, but nothing of consequence, really) and Jim opened the door, helping Spock inside. He half-carried him to the bedroom and deposited him onto the bed, patting his arm before turning to go.
"Ca- Jim?" Spock called before he could stop himself. He hated this, in the back of his mind he knew it was wrong, that he should just keep his mouth shut and keep the emotions locked away, pushed down, but he couldn't. There was no self-control here.
Jim turned back around, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, Mister Spock?" he asked, looking faintly amused.
"W-Will you stay?" Spock asked, sounding uncharacteristically shy and surprisingly human. Another blush quickly warmed his cheeks and he looked down.
Jim sat down on the bed after a moment, curious as to what Spock was on about. But he trusted his first officer, trusted him with his life and more. "Of course, Spock," he said, his voice quiet.
Spock gave a smile of contentment, and slipped a hand to Jim's wrist in an attempt to pull him closer. He underestimated his own strength, though, (damned chocolate!) and Jim ended up gasping softly as he was pulled flush against the embarrassed Vulcan. Jim stared at him a moment before breaking into a grin and allowing himself to cuddle close to Spock.
"Green looks good on you, you know."