A/N: Another something something I'm whipping up. Its Jim/Spock, but nothing too serious for a while yet. :] Reviews are extremely welcome!!
All he had wished for was a vacation. He didn't want universal peace; he didn't want a double cheese burger with all the works [because Bones refused to let him eat anything that dripped in complete, utter goodness]. No. He wanted a vacation. So when he opened his eyes to find himself sitting on an isolated beach, crystal clear water lapping at his feet, he must admit he was surprised.
"Jim?"
Squinting his eyes, he turned his head and lifted his hand to shield the sun. Spock seated himself in the sand next to his Captain, clad in uniform Science blues and black slacks. Not very beach-y attire, Jim thought with a grin.
"You are smiling." Spock commented, gazing out at the ocean. He rather enjoyed the way the waves swelled and crashed onto the shore. There was something oddly calming about it. Not that he was complaining.
"Well, you know how to get me to relax." Jim stretched out, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. His eyes were closed as he took in the heat the sun offered. They had been away from earth for years. Besides the aforementioned cheeseburger he wanted to feel the familiar warmth Earth's sun had to offer. This was a very close second.
Spock was quiet for a few minutes. "I do wonder, Captain—"
"Jim." A quick interjection.
"Right… I do wonder, Jim. What brought on this sudden need to, in a sense, get away from the ship? You do realize you have an early morning shift in eleven hours and forty-one minutes, correct?"
Jim sighed, sitting up. Sand fell from his hair and the back of his shirt as he glared pointedly at his First Officer. "Do you need to remind me? We're having a moment, Spock. A nice moment, and I don't want to think about how I have a shift in twelve hours—"
"Eleven hours and thirty—"
"Spock!" Jim slapped a hand over his eyes, falling backwards again, dramatically. "You're missing the point!"
"Then enlighten me, wouldn't you?" came the even-toned reply.
Jim heaved a sigh, moving to put his arm over his eyes. The need for explanation all the time was becoming more annoying when it started off adorable. Jim did things for the sake of doing them. If he wanted to touch Spock on the Bridge, by gods he was going to touch Spock on the bridge. If he wanted to take some random little vacation away from the stress of everyday life… well you get the idea! Why on Earth – or any other planet for that matter – would Jim want to explain his every miniscule movement? He felt the sand to his right shift, and then next to his left hip the sand sunk down just slightly. He moved his arm and looked up into Spock's chocolate eyes.
"I just… needed some time with you." Jim admitted, his heart rate increasing enough to feel like it was thudding hard against his chest. Every time Spock came near him, he reacted like a giddy little school girl. His cheeks flushed and he sometimes stumbled over his words.
"Why did you not mention this earlier?" The Vulcan inquired. "I would have acquiesced to spend some time alone with you."
"For what? An hour or two playing chess? A few minutes for a quiet conversation? It wasn't enough, dammit." His voice dropped. Suddenly, anxiousness settled deep in his chest. Did he force Spock into doing all this for him? What if the Vulcan was trying to draw away from him? Didn't he like Jim anymore?
"Jim… Jim, if we are going to have a conversation, please try to stay with me."
"You don't need to do this anymore." Jim said quietly, pushing against the hard wall of Spock's chest in an attempt to sit up.
Long fingers wrapped around Jim's hand, making the human gaze up at his Officer again. Spock's eyes had darkened, piercing down into Jim's own. Jim felt the warm breath slide across his jaw and down his neck.
"I am doing exactly what I wish to be doing."
Oh the great Vulcan assurance method. Not that it made Jim feel any better. His chest tightened and he shook his head, little grains of sand being flung sideways.
"No, I can't do this to you anymore. I can't just keep asking for you to whisk me away so we can share time together." He barely remembered he was still shaking his head, but he didn't stop. Dammit, he felt an unfamiliar burning in his throat and his vision began to blur. "You have a job to do, and so do I, so if you would just let me up you can drop the meld and get o—" a pair of warm lips pressed against the corner of his mouth and he stopped, drawing in a breath.
"T'hy'la." Spock murmured quietly, pulling away enough to look back into those cerulean baby blues he adored so much. "You talk too much."
"B-But…"
"My greatest wish is to make you happy. You are not intruding on my work. So if you think that you are, you would be wise to stop."
Jim was blinking rapidly, trying to keep the moisture in his eyes – they weren't tears. Captains did not cry. James T. Kirk. Did. Not. Cry. "Or what?" he asked.
"I will have to prove to you that you are wrong."
They spent several more hours on the beach before Spock separated their minds as gentle as he could. Jim swung his legs heavily over the side of Spock's bed.
"I should go," He mumbled, standing up. A Vulcan hand reached out to grip the hem of Jim's shirt, but his Captain pulled away. "Have a good night, Spock."
Slow footfalls echoed throughout the room followed by the hiss of the door sliding open, then seconds later closed. Spock stared up at the ceiling, his mind reeling. How could Jim think he cared any less for him? After all they had been through, from the Academy to Nero, and the several other low-key missions they had performed together. Jim was the one who was there when his mother died. He was the one who comforted Spock; let his emotions spill out that one single time he had allowed them to. Indeed their bond had grown stronger, but Jim was pulling away and closing himself off. With no logical reasoning, and quite frankly… it was scaring Spock. Emotion or no emotion, when Jim could not define the reason of his actions, it was unnerving.
The halls weren't particularly crowded as Jim passed through. His eyes were fixed on the ground as he slid through the halls, vaguely aware of anything around him. He just wanted to feel like he used to. The way his heart leapt whenever Spock gave him a passing glance or when he saw the corners of those Vulcan lips twitch in an effort to contain a smile. He missed passing his First Officer a PADD and intentionally, but secretly out of everybody else's view, skimming his fingertips over Spock's hand. Lately nothing seemed like it was. The smiles faded, or fell on blind eyes. The touches were distant and meaningless. Hell, even when Spock brought their minds together, they were in the same place, but oh-so far apart.
The six digit code was easy enough to put in, letting the door to his quarters slide to his left. He stepped in and once the door slid shut, he leaned back against it, trailing his eyes over the extremely lonely room. A soft light emitted itself from above his bed, illuminating the few things he had in his quarters. Shadows danced along the wall as his shoes were kicked off to the side and he settled himself onto the bed. He stared straight up at the ceiling, his right hand absently groping at the sheets on the opposite side of the bed… Spock's side of the bed. A heart-wrenching noise spilled from his lips as he turned onto his side, gripping the pillow that Spock rested on when he stayed. He brought it to his face, inhaling the spicy, intoxicating scent of his love. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears struggling to break free.
He was losing the one person he loved more than anything in the universe and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
