He shared a bathroom with Spock. A fact that Jim neglected completely as his shower stretched into a second hour.
His back was against the slick surface of the shower wall. Instead of a sonic shower, he opted for real water. Standing beneath it as the mildly tempered water beat down on his head and shoulders, flowed in rivers down his arms & chest and split into tiny streams upon his fingers before falling to the floor.
He closed his eyes and listened intently to the sound of his breathing and the water cascading around him.
He hadn't been sleeping well. Either Jim awoke in a torrent of panic as he recalled his death or his dreams were heady with a lust for his first officer. Either way, he woke up in a strangle hold of sweat-soaked sheets. If he wasn't screaming from the feeling of his oxygen starved lungs as he lay withering away from radiation, he was moaning into the dark quarters as he bucked against his mattress.
Heavy bags nestled beneath his spark-less blue eyes and his body felt perpetually tense. The warmth of the shower helped loosen the tight muscles in his neck and alleviate the near constant sleep-deprived headache he was experiencing.
Crystalline water droplets caressed his closed eyelids and tickled his eyelashes.
He was so engrossed in the thought of not thinking the the voice that suddenly appeared in his bathroom made his heart stumble. "Captain?"
Spock.
"Yeah…" he said, the words reaching past the humidity and the closed door into Spock's chambers. Spock stood on the other side of the door. "Are you alright? You have been bathing for a considerable amount of time."
Shit. Fuck. How long have I been in here? Jim wondered.
Immediately he snapped the water off and stood in the shower feeling naked and exposed under the familiar questioning voice. "I uh…I'm fine," the words sounded like a lie, even to his ears.
"I'm sorry Spock…do you need to use the bathroom?"
"No."
There was a beat of silence. Jim's heartbeat sped up. He felt so foolish that not only had he spent a near eternity locked in the bathroom, but that Spock knew about it.
"I do wish to talk with you," Spock said. Jim grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his now prune-like body. "Yeah, sure. My quarters, two minutes," he said as his side of the bathroom door whirred open. The cold air from his room hit him square in the chest, and made his hair stand on end.
He wasn't sure exactly where those two minutes had gone, but in precisely 120 seconds, Spock sought entry into his room. Jim was shirtless but said "yeah, sure, come in."
Before Spock had the chance to begin speaking, his eyes swept over Jim's shirtless body. Jim took note and immediately a rosy blush sprang to his chest and cheeks. He groped through his stuffed dresser and yanked on a shirt as soon as possible.
The shirt was black and way too tight and when Spock sat down next to him he felt like he couldn't breathe. Immediately images of his dreams sprang to mind. He knew they weren't dreams. He knew they were different…they were memories. Mental leftovers from the mind meld with Ambassador Spock on Delta Vega.
Suddenly he looked at Spock and realized that his friend's cheeks were burning green. It hit him that he had been openly staring at Spock, lips parted, tongue peeking out of his bottom lip as he mentally flipped through the R rated picture book in his mind.
His heart now beat so loud that he was 90% sure Spock could physically hear it pumping blood furiously through his body. His pants felt tight, his head felt like air.
Jim cleared his throat and said "so…what'd you want to talk about Spock?" The science officer regained his expressionless mask and said carefully…"I have been concerned about you."
Jim's heart sputtered.