A/N: Had lots of fun writing this chapter. I'm soooo sorry it took so long...Also, to the person who left the review last chapter saying they made fanart, sorry I couldn't reply to you but HOLY CRAP IF THERE'S ANY WAY YOU CAN SHOW THAT TO ME I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER. I ALREADY LOVE YOU FOR DOING THAT. I'll be glad to feature it here, so please if anyone wants to do something like that just let me know and I will flail and die and write immense volumes of fluff. This chapter is for you: you special, nameless person.

Day Four

He was somewhere warm and soft, a luxury he'd never appreciated before experiencing the beds on the Enterprise. There wasn't anything wrong with it, per se, but there was just something about a real mattress that couldn't be replicated on a starship. Maybe he'd get Scotty to rig something up….yeah, he'd do that….comm him in the morning….

The warmth shifted and he burrowed closer, breathing in clean cotton and something….something under the soapy heat that he couldn't identify.

"Jim."

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, but it came out more as a, "Fmmn merngmgn."

"Captain." The voice was louder this time, sharper, and he felt the slightest edge of urgency seeping through his lethargy-

Jim's eyes snapped open as the dropping pang of reality settled in. He was suddenly, brutally aware he of the way his arms were hooked around Spock's waist and his face was pressed into the Vulcan's side. His first officer was twisted in an awkward upright position as if he had been attempting to get out of bed before finding himself helplessly entrapped by his limpet of a captain.

"Sorry," Jim said immediately, trying to pull away and fumbling at the sheets still twisted around his legs. "Oh, hell, I'm so sorry, I didn't know-"

"Jim." There was something resembling exasperation in Spock's voice, and Jim glanced up at him apprehensively. It was light enough now for him to make out the silhouette of Spock's mussed hair, the bangs sticking up in a way that made Jim want to do truly terrible things. "Hold still."

Jim held still. It wasn't as if he could do anything else, really.

Spock efficiently extracted himself from the tangle of limbs, standing by the side of the bed and straightening his shirt absently. "I believe our plans for today have been forestalled."

"What?" Jim stared at him blankly. It was too early to try and decipher Spock's vernacular, except the chrono on the table read eight in the morning. But surely it shouldn't be this dark still-

Then the crash of thunder shook the window, and Jim groaned.

...

Jim stared out forlornly at the sheets of heavy rain driving down from the heavens. It was absolutely brutal, pounding against the window with all the straightforward simplicity of nature, and, needless to say, they definitely weren't going anywhere today.

"This sucks," he muttered, thumping his forehead against the glass gloomily. Of course it would rain. Everything he tried to do always went wrong somehow, it seemed. He couldn't even go on a decent vacation without something popping up.

Spock was sitting on the bed behind him, watching the news channel with a detached sort of interest. Like he was watching some kind of bizarre chemical reaction taking place before his eyes. When Jim heaved another noise of complaint, he spoke, "You can not control the weather, Jim. It is illogical to be emotionally upset over such an issue."

Jim turned, gesturing frustratedly. "But it sucks! How is it raining so much anyway? It's the desert!"

Spock opened his mouth, looking ready to tell Jim precisely how and why it was perfectly natural for precipitation to occur in the Southwestern regions of the North American continent- God, Jim could hear his voice already, going on and on, not that Spock didn't have a nice voice, but sometimes-

He raised a hand before Spock could start. "Whatever. Just." Jim sighed and sat down heavily on the bed next to Spock, the mattress creaking and dipping beneath him. "Maybe tomorrow..."

"The storm is forecasted to last two days. I believe remaining any longer would overextend our week of leave."

"I know, damn it," Jim grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck irritably. "I should've seen this coming."

"Jim, it is all right."

"It's not," Jim muttered mulishly, but he didn't continue. Spock didn't seem too upset about it, though that was impossible to tell from his lack of expression. "I promised you."

Spock looked at him contemplatively then, studying his face carefully before saying, "This will not be our last shore leave, Jim."

Jim stared at him. There was something Spock wasn't saying, but he was, and Jim suddenly worried that he was reading too much into it. "So…." he attempted cautiously, "so you're saying…."

"I would not be adverse to another attempt at this venture, if you so desired to repeat it in the future." Spock affirmed, and redirected his attention to the holovision, but he didn't seem to be watching very closely.

Jim looked at him another long moment, not knowing what to say. But sometimes, he thought, things were better left unsaid after all. So he exhaled slowly in wry amusement and flopped backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Well. One day off's not too bad, I guess."

"No," Spock agreed vaguely from somewhere to the left of him. Jim raised his head slightly off the mattress to squint at his silhouette, and caught his breath. Spock was looking down at him, his expression unreadable as always, but yet more unguarded than Jim had ever seen it. He had a strange lurching feeling that if he reached out and touched him, if he pressed his fingers ever so lightly against that pale skin, Spock would break into a million pieces.

So Jim lay still and held his breath, and lost himself in that dark, fathomless gaze until Spock finally looked away. Only then did he drop his head back, heart pounding unreasonably as he examined the slightly raised whorls on the ceiling plaster.

"We could order in," Jim said at length. "If you're hungry."

"That would be acceptable."

"...Spock?"

"Yes, Jim."

"Have you ever had pizza?"

Spock made a strange noise, almost like a cough or a grunt, but when Jim looked over suspiciously, his face was as still and indifferent as it had been before. "I have not."

"Oh man, we've gotta get you on that. If you can't see the Grand Canyon, you've at least got to try pizza."

"I was unaware that the Grand Canyon possessed a standard culinary equivalent."

"You haven't tried it," Jim retorted, rolling over onto his side and rummaging in the nightstand drawer. "Trust me, it'll change your world."

Spock chanced a quick glance as Jim continued to search for the errant directory, and found his gaze frozen on Jim's precarious position. He was half off the bed, one knee bent beneath him and his hips jutting upwards-

Jim loosed a triumphant exclamation and wiggled back onto the bed with the bulky tablet. Spock snapped his eyes back to the news channel, his heart thumping strangely against his ribs. He could still see so very clearly the strip of skin between Jim's waistband and his rucked-up shirt, and faint shadow of his hipbones that drew the eye down in a vague suggestion of-

"What do you think?" Jim's voice was unexpectedly close to his ear, and Spock flinched away before he could bring himself back under control. Fortunately, Jim did not seem to notice, sprawling easily on his stomach at Spock's side to peruse the directory, flipping through the screens and scanning the list of local dining establishments intently.

"Here, how's this sound?"

Spock did not turn to look. "I will leave the choice to you."

He could sense Jim's pout almost as clearly as if he had turned. "All right, then."

A sodden adolescent appeared at their door approximately twenty-seven minutes later, blinking in awed recognition from under his cap as Jim winked and tipped him heavily.

Pizza, it turned out, was every bit as fascinating as Jim had made it out to be.

...

Later, Jim stood at the window, watching the storm with a gloomy sort of resignation. "Did it ever rain like this on Vulcan?" he mused absently, looking at the curtains of rain as they enveloped the thirsting earth without really seeing them.

"There were seasonal rains," came Spock's quiet reply from somewhere behind him. "Nothing quite like the rain here, however."

"Huh." Jim imagined clear rivulets of water streaming over the cracked red plains, seeping into the ground and- water dripping down a pale chest, pooling in- he blinked away the memory of Spock rising from that mountain lake and leaned closer to the window just as a massive fork of lightning tore apart the clouds, a deafening crash sounding barely half a second later. The glass shook with the force of the thunder, his heart stuttering from the suddenness of it all.

"Holy-" Jim reeled back from the window, stumbling over his own feet, and would have fallen humiliatingly on his ass if he hadn't bumped into Spock. There was a hand around his elbow almost immediately, an arm securing itself around his waist and holding him upright. His awkward position put his head against Spock's chest, just beneath his chin, and he could feel the fluttering of cool breaths against his hair.

Purple flashed when Jim blinked, the phantom imprints of the lightning burned into his vision. He let himself relax into Spock's hold, eyes fluttering shut as his mind blissfully blanked out.

There was something….good about this, being this close to him. He had felt it before on the bike, when Spock's arms tightened around him just so, he had felt it when Spock had clung to him in the lake, he felt it now as Spock kept him from falling. As he had always done.

"There were frequent lightning storms on my home planet," Spock said matter-of-factly, his voice rumbling against Jim's back. "A fascinating spectacle, by all accounts."

"Mm," Jim hummed distractedly, concentrating on the flutter of Spock's heart against his ribs. "Must have been something."

"Indeed." Spock loosened his grip and Jim straightened with a slight wobble, awkwardly turning to face Spock.

"Thanks," he heard himself say, and promptly lost everything else he might have said when he looked up and found himself looking into Spock's eyes. He had somehow managed to forget how intensely Spock could stare until that moment. There were no social inhibitions with him, no secondary embarrassment that caused strangers to avert their gazes or polite niceties that dictated prolonged eye contact was inappropriate. It was just Spock, and he looked at Jim like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.

Had he always looked at him like that?

In the end, Jim couldn't take it anymore and he glanced away, unconsciously tilting his body away from Spock. There was something wrong with his heartbeat, how it jumped erratically and bounced off his ribs with a thumping that reverberated through his entire body.

He felt a hand on his arm, tentative and unsure, and it was the uncertainty that made him catch Spock's wrist and turn around. They were so close, so very close. Their chests came together with every shallow breath, every gust of warm air brushing against both their faces so that Jim didn't know where his ended and where Spock's began. Spock leaned forward first, almost eagerly, then froze, a faint look of panic crossing his face. "You...you have very remarkable eyes, Jim," he finally said, with a touch of helplessness. "I do not believe I have ever informed you of that."

"No," Jim breathed, mingled incredulity and dizzy joy swirling incomprehensible within him. "No, you haven't."

Spock blinked twice in rapid succession and tried to pull away- and Jim kissed him.

It was a brazen thing to do, a stupid thing to do, but they had been gravitating towards this moment for what felt like their entire lives, falling towards each other at the speed of circumstance. And now it was here that they finally caught each other, and falling was nothing at all if they could fall together.

It was a soft kiss, a careful press of closed lips that was more question than demand. Jim had no idea how to kiss a man, much less how to kiss Spock. He paused, opening his eyes uncertainly, and searched Spock's face with a bit of nervousness. Spock's eyes were wide open, and he had the utterly disoriented look of a drowning man who had suddenly found ground beneath his feet and didn't know if it was sand or stone.

Jim took a ragged breath, realizing his hands had somehow found their way to Spock's arms, and unhooked his fingers from his shirt awkwardly. "Um."

Spock's face flexed strangely in an expression Jim didn't recognize, and then his hand was on Jim's shoulder, pulling him closer. This time the kiss was a reassurance, a promise. It was awkward, it was unfamiliar, but it was the best damn kiss Jim had ever had. He gave a shaky chuckle against the steady pressure of Spock's mouth and reached up, sliding his fingers through short black hair, pulling at the strands gently.

Spock made a quiet noise, almost a hum of approval. The hand on Jim's shoulder shifted higher in small intervals, eventually clasping the side of Jim's neck. His thumb rubbed slow circles against Jim's jaw, the grounding touch the only thing keeping Jim from flying straight out the window in a burst of dizzying emotion. His heart felt about to burst, swelling and swelling inside his chest with a joy he realized he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Maybe not ever.

He exhaled breathlessly, parting his lips, trying to pull Spock even closer and frowning slightly in consternation when he found that he couldn't. Their bodies were pressed against each other tightly, with no room left for even a breath, a heartbeat, but he wanted- needed more. Spock's other hand slid around his side, melding to the small of his back. Jim made a small noise of surprise, and Spock seemed to like that, opening his mouth against Jim's and tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Jim could feel Spock's heart pounding against his side, much faster than his own, and the pulsing beat was oddly reassuring in a triumphant sort of way. He pressed his tongue forward tentatively, tracing the edge of Spock's bottom lip, but not daring to go any farther. He was teetering on the edge of another cliff, one he couldn't see the bottom of. Spock's arms tightened around him, and whether he was keeping Jim from falling or pulling him down, he couldn't tell anymore. Admittedly, that could also be partially due to his pressing need for oxygen, but, to hell with it, he liked his version better.

Then Spock's tongue slid forward and met his in a final surge, sealing them together, and Jim decided dizzily that air was indeed an overrated necessity. The cool slide of Spock's tongue against his own was both unfamiliar and exhilarating, and he issued a muffled sigh of contentment.

The bed was at the back of Jim's knees before either of them realized, and he sat down hard when he finally lost his balance. Spock went down with him, Jim's hands still wound tight in his hair and around his neck, and caught himself against the mattress before he could flatten Jim beneath him.

They stayed like that for a moment, Jim still trying to catch his breath and Spock blinking very rapidly, as if his brain had skipped out on the last few minutes and was trying to catch up. Their faces were still very close, Spock's arms braced on either side of Jim and his mouth- that terrible, wonderful mouth that Jim wanted to taste again with all his being- hovering just inches away.

"Jim," Spock breathed, his brow furrowing with slight uncertainty.

Jim nodded jerkily, willing his heart to slow the hell down and go back down to his chest where it belonged. Spock's hand shifted slightly, as if intending to reach for him, and Jim was pushing him away before his mind had caught up, breathing heavily and eyes wide as if he'd run a marathon instead of…..well.

"Sorry," he blurted, his mouth still tingling and numb. He could taste the pizza from Spock's tongue, he thought hysterically. No, stop, don't go there- "Sorry, I didn't. I didn't mean to."

Something flickered behind Spock's eyes, sharp and uncertain, and Jim shook his head hard. "No, Spock, it's not like that." He reached up and grasped Spock's wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He could feel the Vulcan's fluttering pulse, so much quicker than his own racing heartbeat, and he tried again, "I just…" He faltered, unable to say anything else, and Spock fell silent, giving him a scrutinizing once-over before rolling carefully off of Jim to sit beside him on the bed.

They didn't talk about the kiss for the rest of the day, but it wasn't as awkward as Jim had feared. It was something that bound them together in silence rather than push them apart, something intimate and tentative and that had yet to be fully discovered. It was quite possibly the beginning of something different, something new, and the thought didn't scare Jim as much as it might have before.

It wasn't as if it was their first kiss, anyway. He remembered all too well the turmoil he'd been in after Pike died, the fire and sorrow that had gripped him tight and propelled him straight into Spock. That kiss hadn't been the best memory, though. It wasn't like this one. This was something…..something else altogether, and if Bones was here, he'd call Jim a blundering ninny and bash him over the head for overthinking it.

But McCoy wasn't here, and so Jim introduced Spock to the wonders of reality shows and regaled him of the less than stellar tales of his misguided childhood instead. When he nonchalantly glossed over the whole Corvette debacle, Spock looked at him quietly for a long time, but said nothing. I think I love him, Jim's mind decided to helpfully produce at that very moment, and he faltered briefly before moving on to his fourteenth birthday and the Auntie Perry incident, trying to calm the sudden pounding of his heart.

Jim slept in Spock's bed that night. It wasn't something either of them had particularly decided; he simply hadn't make the move to get into the other bed when the time came and Spock hadn't stopped him, only pausing to give him a careful stare before climbing silently under the sheets beside him. And even though it wasn't the first time they had shared a bed, it felt like the first time all over again to Jim. Every hushed breath was somehow different, every shift of the mattress held another meaning, every brush of skin or clothing against his own required deep contemplation. It was both maddening and addicting, and Jim felt more and more lost by the second.

He found himself gradually scooting closer and closer to the center of the bed until he was practically curled against Spock's back, the tip of his nose just brushing above the collar of Spock's shirt. He breathed out slowly and closed his eyes. His heart was doing one-fifty in his chest- there was no way Spock couldn't hear it, and Jim didn't know if he liked that or not.

"Jim." Spock said, the deep rumbling of his words tantalizingly close to Jim's face. Drowsily, he pressed his lips lightly to the back of Spock's neck, trying to taste that voice.

"Jim," Spock repeated.

"Mmm?" Jim inched closer, placing a hand impulsively on Spock's side. He could feel Spock's ribcage expanding with every breath, the coolness of his skin beneath the soft fabric. He nosed forward with a small sigh of contentment, enjoying the feeling of being this close to another body. He didn't like being alone- never had, really- and it had been so long-

Then Spock was turning over to face him, and Jim suddenly found himself with a faceful of frowning Vulcan. He caught his breath and forgot how to exhale, staring blankly as Spock blinked slowly at him. "That is very distracting," Spock said quietly. His breath carried the scent of the motel toothpaste, and Jim shouldn't find that half as fascinating as he did.

"Spock," Jim said, and his voice came out more strangled than he had intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Spock, I think...I think I-"

Spock pressed his fingertips to Jim's mouth, silencing him immediately. Jim still hadn't remembered how to breathe correctly. He managed to gasp in a choked bid for air, his lips parting, and he could taste the cool salty-sweet of Spock's skin. Spock pulled back and sighed, the smooth exhale running slightly ragged towards the end, and it was enough encouragement for Jim to lean forward and press a light kiss to the corner of Spock's mouth, drawing back almost apologetically after the brief contact.

"I think I'm in too deep, Spock," Jim confessed quietly. "I'm scared."

He shifted forward those last few millimeters, his forehead coming to rest against Spock's, and looked into those dark, guarded eyes. His next words rose easily to his lips, despite the uncertainty pounding in his chest. "Help me not be?"

A second passed. A heartbeat, a flicker of doubt-

Spock's hand came up slowly and brushed through Jim's hair in a gesture so human, so familiar, so intimate, that it caused Jim's breath to hitch in his chest, a strange lump in his throat. Spock paused with his hand cupping the back of Jim's head, looking at him with a steady intent that terrified him. The lights flickering through the window played oddly on his face, catching and glimmering in his dark eyes.

"Please," Jim whispered.

Spock pulled him forward and kissed him with surprising force, crushing his mouth to Jim's with an intensity that matched his stares, his voice, his words, his mind, everything about him. Spock had fascinated him since the day they met, and there was no logic in all the worlds that could explain what had always been meant to be.

Then Spock was rolling them over, pinning Jim on his back, and there was a knee nudging between his legs, a line of focused, insistent kisses pressing against his jaw and throat that drove every thought out of his mind. Cool hands pushed demandingly under his shirt, tracing every curve of warm muscle and bone with unrelenting intent. It was all Jim could do just to keep breathing, panting breathlessly into Spock's shoulder and clutching blindly at Spock's back as his knee drove higher and harder, reassuring in its pressure.

And as the storm pounded against the window and threw lightning shadows on the walls, Jim forgot what it meant to be afraid.

..

A/N: eh, sorry if anyone actually wanted them to go to the Grand Canyon, but I figured it was the journey and not the destination that counted, right? Also, I've never actually seen the Grand Canyon and I'm sure I wouldn't have done it justice and I wanted some rain and making out okay.