If you came here in search of a plot, then you're probably in the wrong place. If you were looking for oodles of love and a smile you just can't help, on the other hand, then… Welcome!
I only wish I owned Star Trek.
Jim collapsed into the armchair, his papers slipping loudly to the floor. Spock materialised beside him, insinuating himself into the small space left between Jim's body and the piles of cushions. He began to unwind Jim's scarf from around his neck, tenderness highlighting his every movement. "God, Spock," Jim groaned tiredly.
Without another word passing between them, Spock's hands found their way to his husband's tense shoulder muscles. Jim sighed happily as they relaxed beneath the expert touch. "Thank you," he murmured, sotto voce. Spock purred in contentment.
"Would you like me to fetch you a coffee?" he offered after a while. Jim looked into the sincere brown eyes of his t'hy'la and shook his head. "I just want to sit here forever, with you," he replied, following a moment's pause. Spock allowed a warm smile to tug at the corners of his mouth, and Jim basked in the glow of the heartfelt gesture. It meant that Spock understood, but it was more than that. It was a demonstration of their closeness, and a reminder of the first time Spock had ever let himself show Jim how much he cared beneath the Vulcan stoicism.
Spock shared his emotional buzz through the bond, his purrs heightening. "Forever," he agreed, because as illogical as it was to wish for something so impossible, he too wanted nothing more than to sit with his Jim and share this, this closeness, with him.
Jim chuckled; a low, rich sound that sent vibrations through his body. Spock nestled closer, resting his head on Jim's shoulder and craning his neck to plant a soft kiss on his jawline. Jim wriggled happily, allowing his husband better access to continue peppering affection on his cheek, head, ear, nose. Finally Spock turned his attention to Jim's smiling lips. They kissed gently at first, each one a delicate reminder of their continuing love. The kisses turned harder, then more urgent, as each sought to hold the other tighter, to become closer than was possible.
"I missed you today," Jim admitted, his lips moving in Spock's hair as he spoke. Spock moved back to look his t'hy'la in the eye before speaking himself. The words were quiet, but they sent a pleasant shiver down Jim's spine. "Every moment of your absence served simply to increase my longing for our reunion," he rumbled, averting his gaze slightly. Even after twenty years, he found it difficult to express the absolute adoration he felt for this human.
"I love you, too," Jim smiled sweetly, understanding perfectly what it was that Spock couldn't say. His husband's ears flushed a verdant green as he renewed his attentions, kissing every inch of exposed skin until there was nowhere that had not been showered with love.
"I hope this never ends," Jim whispered suddenly, and Spock recognised fear in his voice. Seated carefully in Jim's lap with a leg either side of his torso, Spock stroked his t'hy'la's cheek softly. "Jim…" he murmured. He knew that they both felt the brevity of their time together, and how much longer they might have had, if only they had known then what they now revelled in.
"I know," he smiled then, taking Spock's two fingers in his own. The dilation of Spock's pupils and a slight quickening of his breath accompanied the gesture, and Jim's grin took on a mischievous quality that reminded Spock of their younger days. Knowing what was intended, Spock played along. "Captain," he said fondly, "I am a Vulcan." Jim noticed his reversion to their old titles and felt his heart swell in remembrance. That Spock was willing to indulge him in these moments was just further testament to his utter, illogical devotion.
"But you are also… half-Human, are you not, Mr Spock?" he teased back, toying with the two captured digits infuriatingly. Spock stifled a hum of pleasure and settled for a familiar retort. "Captain, I do not believe it is within your prerogative as my commanding officer to issue insults."
"Not yet, Spock," Jim murmured, lips catching on the tip of his ear as he leaned intimately close. "That isn't your line." The sensation of soft moisture and warm breath sent an irrepressible shudder through Spock and something inside of him gave up, turning his head to meet those cool, human lips on equal terms.
A groan of relief from Jim assured him that the deviation from their game was most definitely welcome. Spock rose to position himself atop his husband, so that their bodies were parallel amidst the mass of cushions in the armchair. "Jim," Spock sighed into his mouth. He was completely content, in that one moment, safe and warm with his t'hy'la, no duties or responsibilities, nobody to worry about except for themselves.
He had never minded those things before, in their place, but this… This was different. This was perfect.
Beneath him, Spock felt the unmistakeable rumble of an unfed human. Drawing away when they broke apart to breathe, he peered down at Jim, eyes showing concern and affection in equal measure. "You are hungry," he stated softly, not once breaking contact with the smouldering molten gold of Jim's eyes.
Jim grinned, looking abashed. "Hmm," he conceded unwillingly. He didn't want to move from where they were now, but it was impossible to disagree with Spock's unerring certainty. Sensing his husband's worry seep across their bond, he smiled. It still gave him a great sense of reassurance to feel directly the depth and permanence of Spock's emotions toward him. "I'm fine, Spock, really," he promised. "But… let's not move just yet, alright?"
Spock acceded without argument, melting back into his t'hy'la's welcoming embrace. "But you must eat soon," he added warningly. No matter how much he loved this, he loved Jim more, and his human's health was more important than anything. Spock felt Jim nod and relaxed more completely, his face coming to rest against his husband's chest. "Spock," Jim murmured, laughter in his voice, "I said I'm fine. Now just… come here, please?" Spock worked his way up the chair until they were pressed face-to-face, a rush of warmth generated where their foreheads and noses touched. "I love you, you know," he added fondly.
Tenderness suffused Spock's response. "T'hy'la. My t'hy'la." It hardly needed saying, but it felt good to hear it nonetheless. For Jim, the word meant so much. It was a declaration, a caress, a vow. I love you, it said, and I will love you forever. You are my perfect, illogical human, and I will never leave your side.