The prompt (Which I took a little from, but mostly ignored on accident) was "Spock and Jim cuddling in public … and how others are accepting of them being all sweet and couple-y."
Museaway's Tiny Fic Challenge on tumblr
Fingers brush over his neck and a kiss lands softly after. Spock doesn't need to look up from his book to know it is Jim behind him. Jim's lips press against his cheek and he allows the flush of green to rise in his cheeks.
It's the first warm day of spring, and Jim couldn't be more excited. Spock had watched him all day, nearly bouncing through the house in anticipation. Only looking up from the PADD he was reading to comment occasionally on how similar his Captain compared to a golden retriever. The reaction he received only further solidified his comment.
So it wasn't a surprise to Spock when in mid-afternoon, Jim decided he wanted to go on a walk. "Stretch my legs." He gave as his reason. Spock could hardly argue.
And so they went. Jim nearly bouncing like the Terran canine he was so similar to, and Spock following in a manner that suited a Vulcan like himself. They were so different, but somehow they managed to walk at a similar pace, never straying too far from the other.
It had been months since their romantic relationship had begun. Even in the beginning, Jim had, surprisingly, respected Spock's want for privacy. Only touching Spock while they were alone, but never making the move to do so in public.
In privacy, Spock clung to Jim like glue. While in Jim's apartment, Spock's hands were constantly on him. Innocent Vulcan kisses, holding hands, a back rub. Spock looked for any excuse. Jim was tactile and welcomed the touches warmly. Spock logically understood the need for them to leave the privacy of their apartment, but still abhorred the idea more than he ever let on. And so he never let Jim know how tense and anxious he was while they went on errands or to meetings.
It was truly a beautiful day. The world was green and lush, broken with fragments of color. A day where Spock could get away with thermals under his clothes and nothing else. Jim on the other hand wore a light cotton shirt and jeans. Spock admired Jim's body under the loose shirt, the arms that were toned and the stomach that wasn't a six pack but definitely wasn't flabby either.
He longed to touch Jim.
He could be patient. He could wait until they got home. Jim wanted to go outside and enjoy the weather, and Spock would deny him nothing. So he idly followed his lover as Jim almost skipped in the nice weather.
Golden Gate Park was full of people enjoying the weather. Lovers enjoying picnics, owners playing with their dogs, parents and children eating ice cream. There was no chance of privacy here. Jim hardly took note and simply pulled Spock along by his sleeve, choosing what seemed like a random walking path.
"Spooock!" He dragged Spock's name out as he had a habit of doing, a wide smile on his face that urged the edges of Spock's to rise almost imperceptibly. "You can just smell Summer!"
"It is not logical," Spock started as Jim broke away to smell wildflowers at the side of the path. He tensed the farther Jim moved away from him. "To be able to smell a season." He finished as his captain carefully picked a bloom and brought it back over to Spock.
"Smell, Spock!" He ordered with a light hearted smile, bringing the bloom up to Spock's nose. The Vulcan only hesitated a moment before bending to breathe in the perfume. The scent was 'sweet with a hint of sour' as a Terran poet once said. "That, is the smell of summer."
"I stand corrected," Spock replied, removing the bloom from Jim's fingertips, taking care to brush them lightly. The slight contact helped appease Spock's worry and he relaxed a fraction. "It is a pleasant smell." He tucked the bloom, Narcissus, or more commonly referred to as a Daffodil, behind Jim's ear. As he removed his hand, Spock brushed the rounded curve of Jim's ear, reveling in the simple touch.
Jim was flushed in front of him, pink like the other flowers that lined the path. Instead of mentioning it, he just turned and continued on. Spock followed closely, anxiety spiking the farther and longer Jim spent away from him. Anxiety was very un-Vulcan, but Spock was half human. He spent the past few months attempting to suppress and define the feeling. After much research he came to find that it was in fact anxiety.
"Is something wrong?" Jim had stopped in front of him again. The flush had faded and was replaced with concern. At least once every time they went out, Jim had given him the same expression. He had never before asked if something was wrong.
"I am fine, Jim." The unpleasant feeling spiked to almost critical levels at Jim's concern. He needed so badly to reach out and touch Jim, to be reassured that Jim was actually there, to feel Jim's mind against his own. He stopped himself, unable to break his Vulcan mask in public.
"Bullshit," Jim caught Spock's sleeve to prevent him from pulling away. Spock, of course, hadn't even attempted. "I know you Spock. I knowsomething is wrong. Every time we go out you have the same look. Tell me."
Jim was so close, but so far away. Just like months ago, when they had been separated by glass and Jim was dying. Suddenly Spock couldn't breathe. His eyes clamped shut. He needed to touch Jim. Needed to know he was real, alive. But Spock was Vulcan. He could control himself. After all, they hadn't been apart long.
"Jim-," but he didn't get to finish before he was dragged by his sleeve into the trees. They weren't great cover, but it was a difference.
Jim pleaded, eyes bright blue and pained. "Don't even start, Spock. Just tell me. Tell me." His fingers brushed over Spock's closed fists. When had Spock gotten so tense? He caught Jim's hands before they were gone, relaxing perceivably with the feeling of Jim. Jim's emotions, his worry, his essence was there. Almost enough to calm Spock down completely. He was alive.
Instead of answering, Spock just pulled Jim closer, pressing his forehead to his shorter lover. His breath was coming in gasps and he found he couldn't answer even if he tried. He didn't know why he had this anxiety. It was illogical. Irrational. But something about Jim leaving set this emotion off so strongly.
Warm hands were on his face, stroking gently. Little jolts and flickers of Jim lit his skin as it was stroked. Jim was worried, had been for a while. He could feel that Jim had hoped Spock would tell him on his own. But Spock didn't even know what was wrong.
"I'm here," Jim soothed, pressing kisses with his hands to Spocks face and arms. "I'm here, Spock, it's okay."
His eyes shut, just taking in Jim's touch. He could almost lose himself here, just like this. He could almost pretend they were home, alone together. Almost wasn't quite enough. He couldn't speak, illogically couldn't form words.
"Meld with me." Somehow, Spock had been pressed against a tree. Pressed in between his Jim and the tree somehow felt more supportive than entrapping. "If you can't tell me, meld with me." Jim's voice was pained, worried, and his fingers were already hovering over an approximation of Spock's own meld points. Jim had to insist twice more before Spock obliged, unable to reassure with words. When Spock's own fingers were in place on Jim's face, Jim spoke the ritual words for him, and suddenly they were one.
Spock hadn't felt this relaxed since the last time his mind melded with Jim's. It seemed the only time his anxiety was completely gone. He had hidden his thoughts from his T'hy'la, not wanting to worry Jim. After all, he had died. He had been dealing with his own trauma, and Spock had been a dutiful lover. Caring for Jim and putting his lover's needs before his own. He finally, albeit hesitantly, showed Jim his muddled feelings. Feelings that he, as a Vulcan, did not understand, but felt shamed to have. To have emotion, any emotion was un-Vulcan.
Jim was human; he dealt with emotions constantly. Yet Spock was still reluctant to reveal this feeling to Jim. He was all too happy to give Jim his love and affection, but this... This anxiety was weakness even for humans. And Spock could think of few things worse than Jim ashamed of him.
Of course he should have known better, because all that came from Jim was empathy and compassion. It flooded Spock like a salve. T'hy'la, his essence wrapped around Spock like the sun of Vulcan, hot and comforting. I wish you had told me
I did not wish to worry you, he replied, knowing Jim knew his conflict already.
It's a reaction to my death. Jim answered his long asked question. Of course Jim knew. He was one of the most emotional humans Spock knew. Trauma from the event has you reacting negatively every moment I'm away from you, because you're scared of losing me. It's okay, Spock. I know the feeling. He sounded so much like Spock, he almost wondered if Spock had answered himself. That's what the doctors tell me, anyway. That was it.
How does one rid themselves of this emotion? Spock couldn't handle it anymore. Couldn't handle the fear. He knew Jim couldn't stay pinned to his side forever. They were active members of Starfleet and would have separate missions. They were different people and would have to work individually.
Time, Jim warmed him and had him feeling so complete even though Spock knew that when the meld ended he'd be left with the anxiety once again. And therapy. Talking about the trauma, discovering why it's there. That's what I'm told at least. Spock, you don't have to do this alone. You should have told me. He couldn't deny it, but he couldn't bring himself to wish to change the past and tell Jim sooner. He stood by his decision of protecting his lover for as long as he had been able.
We could become telsu. Jim's voice hesitantly suggested. Mental fingers caressing Spock, as if afraid.
Spock didn't need to form words for Jim to feel his surprise. Spock hadn't talked to Jim about bonding. Humans were different and would often not commit to lifelong partners at such a young age. Humans went through many relationships, oftentimes not even committing to one person. In some cases, committing to more than one person in a polyamourus arrangement. Was his brain so very unorganized from his anxiety and his lack of meditation that Jim had seen Spock's wish to bond?
You underestimate me. And yourself. I learned about telsu from Uhura. I wouldn't be parted from you, or you from me. It could help. It would help, Spock knew. It had been something Spock had wanted since he realized Jim Kirk was T'hy'la. Jim was the voice of reason in his panicked mind. He hadn't realized how chaotic he had allowed his mind to become since Jim's death until this spontaneity. He couldn't regret asking; it was logical to form a bond with Jim. Though he had intended to wait and go through human courting before he pushed something so serious on his captain.
Illogically, Jim agreed. Jim seemed more than happy with the idea. Thrilled he told Spock. He saw no flaw in Spock's spontaneity.
It is permanent Spock warned his captain to be brushed aside.
I know. I want it, Spock he could feel his heart speed up in anticipation and overwhelming love for this human in front of him. His mind had ached to bond with Jim's for so long. With every touch. Jim was his T'hy'la; it was only logical that they bond.
Jim's touch on his mind was steadying. Typically, the preliminary bond that Jim was asking for would be initiated between the two by an Elder in a ritual ceremony. The same bond that had bonded him to T'pring when they were seven years of age. This was very different. T'pring and his planet were gone, and he was much older. He loved Jim, as he had not loved T'pring. He wanted the bond this time, truly and honestly wanted it, more than just fulfilling his duty as a Vulcan.
Slowly, Spock found the place in his mind that already belonged to Jim, his T'hy'la. There was a tiny link between them already, thin like gossamer and just as beautiful. He reached out and touched the delicate thread, and instantly it thickened, threads twisting into a thick, silvery rope. He could feel Jim's presence in his mind much more intensely now. Jim's sunshine-like presence melting away all the negative feelings and only leaving love and happiness behind.
The meld dissipated around them, but Spock's eyes never left Jim's. He found his hands tightly entwined in his bondmate's, much like the bond had entwined them together. The touch was intimate, but Jim's now permanent presence in his mind was more so. Yet he found he didn't care to release Jim. Instead he pulled his bondmate closer.
"Humans seal marriages with a kiss, correct?" Jim's answer sung through their bond and Spock pressed his lips to the shorter man's. They had kissed many times, but having the connection they shared now made it all the better. It was soft and slow, and had never before been so intimate.
Wordlessly, they parted, hands still entwined. It was only then that Spock realized how very public this whole display was. They were technically in the middle of a park, even if they were hidden by trees and no one could see. But now Jim was bonded to him, and Spock felt no shame in touching his bondmate so intimately in public.
Let's go home? Lust ran through the bond and Spock noted Jim's naughty smile. Humans and their ways to consummate bonds were no doubt interesting. Spock allowed himself a smile as they turned to walk home. It was the first time since Jim had died that the anxiety was completely gone.