Sorry for the long delay everyone! The start of school was crazy. But here it is! And the next chapter is almost done, too, so that shouldn't be much longer. Also, the wonderful, amazing Anel has started translating this fic into Russian over on FicBook (I couldn't figure out how to link it because FF's coding is dumb). Thanks again, Anel! :D

And thanks to everyone who's been supporting this story and leaving reviews. You guys are the best!

Creative inspiration was not a foreign feeling to Spock, though most who knew him would be surprised to hear it. It was with him in his music, certainly, when he found the time to compose something, even if his talent had never been laudable enough to warrant professional venture. More often, though, he experienced it in his code and formulas, the unlikely leaps and sparks between two previously disparate concepts as he forced their truths from them. The eternal pursuit of science was, after all, a sort of creation, in much the same way a sculptor unearthed the form waiting within stone.

He was therefore not overly surprised when that particular flavor of single-mindedness welled up in him as he sat at his desk, the loose blue stones backlit by the original design for the bracelets. Before it could start to fade, he snatched up the padd and its stylus and opened a sketching window. It took four drafts of the design he was trying to get out before it began to look right, and by the time he had added the finishing touches, it was already very early morning.

A quick self-assessment told him that he needed both sleep and meditation at this point, to restore his overtaxed mental energies. But his time today would be a precious commodity, one to be allocated efficiently, so he chose to take a short rest. Meditation could be undertaken later in the day.

Several hours later and after a quick, calorie dense breakfast, Spock secured the small stones in his pocket and headed for Medbay, rather than the labs. M'Benga would be expecting him, as he had made an appointment with him two days prior, in accordance with Jim's request. Despite his limited time, it was a promise he could not afford to renege. In truth, he had to admit to experiencing pleased satisfaction over fulfilling a request that had been made out of genuine concern and affection for his person.

Thankfully, no one stopped him on the way, and so he managed to arrive early, which was fortuitous given that he was almost immediately derailed after stepping through the wide doors. The captain was there in a lonelier part of the ward, sitting on a regular cot under obvious protest as McCoy ran a tricorder over him. Spock experienced a pleasant thrill at seeing Jim so soon and unexpectedly. The instant ease on the bond was a secondary gratification to the buzzing in his side.

"I'm fine, Bones, lay –" he cut himself off mid-sentence as he caught sight of Spock's approach, a wide, happy smile replacing the annoyance. "Hey, Spock."

"Captain. Are you well?" Though Jim appeared to be in adequate health, his stoicism meant that was not always a reliable indicator of his well-being. In this, Spock wholly supported the doctor's overzealous methods.

Jim rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, McCoy was speaking over him without looking up. "The idiot only just now told me about the anxiety attack he had yesterday, so I'm checkin' his brain chemistry." He withdrew the tricorder, scrolling through the results and frowning. "Hmm. It's definitely off…"

Spock's thoughts flew to the bond, and he struggled to keep his expression neutral. "That is an imprecise assessment, doctor. Clarify."

The doctor continued studying the device, making a thoughtful sound. "Don't know if I can. Doesn't look…worrying, exactly, just different." He turned his attention to Jim. "You been takin' your meds?"

"Yes, Bones," he said, exasperated. "Look, I feel fine, okay? Maybe a little more anxiety than usual and a bit of a headache, but it's not a big deal. Probably just stress, what with the upcoming mission and everything." His dismissal was punctuated with a shrug.

A wave of guilt caused a faint ringing in Spock's ears. What Jim was describing was in line with the effects of an incomplete bond being blocked inadequately by the other party. Though Spock had done his best to take on all of the psychic stress that it entailed, he clearly had not been successful. It shamed him, particularly as he was considered to have a high psi rating even among Vulcans and had always received reluctant praise from his telepathy instructors.

For a brief, suspended moment – and without thinking – he parted his mouth to speak, to confess his suspicions, to tell Jim of the bond right then and there. It was not his right to withhold such information when it did not belong to him alone. But then his thoughts caught up with his instinct for honesty, and irrational fear gripped him, held him fast. His mind conjured images of Jim being horrified, angry, demanding the bond be broken. Rejecting their friendship. With everyone in Medbay as witness. Nausea made his hands tremble where they were clasped behind his back. And so he kept silent.

Tonight, he told himself, in a vain attempt to assuage his guilt. I will tell him tonight. It is, after all, a topic meant for a private setting.

McCoy was still grumbling about the readings. "Hmph. S'pose it could be. I'll modify your hypos. But let me know if there are any new symptoms cropping up. I mean it, Jim."

The tension bled from Jim's shoulders as he hopped off the cot. "Will do. So, Spock, what brings you down here?"

Spock pushed the conflict from his mind and eased any stiffness that had gathered in his bearing. "I have an appointment to see Dr. M'Benga shortly, as you requested."

Jim's eyes softened. "Thanks again for agreeing to that."

Spock merely inclined his head.

"M'Benga? What's wrong with seeing me?" McCoy crossed his arms in mock affront, a teasing scowl on his face.

"Namely, doctor, that it occurs far too often," he said, brow raised.

Clutching a hand to his chest, the doctor effected a hurt expression. "Well that's just rude. I'm wounded, Spock." He was only a little better at concealing his amusement than Jim, who was grinning at them.

"It is fortunate, then, that you are currently in Medbay."

McCoy rolled his eyes, though a smirk still threatened a corner of his mouth. "Yeah yeah, you're very clever. Really, though, if all you're after is a check up to appease Captain Worrywart over here, I can take care of that right now. No need to waste M'Benga's time or use a biobed for a full scan." Before Spock could form a rebuttal, McCoy had brought up his tricorder once more, this time to hover over Spock.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spock saw Jim take a step back, as though he feared attracting the doctor's attention again while so armed. Feigning betrayal, Spock turned his head slightly to give his own subtle version of a glare. Jim just grinned and shrugged as though to say, 'better you than me.'

He turned back to McCoy, brow raised. "Doctor, I believe—"

His attempt was cut off by McCoy shushing him, and after another moment of consideration, decided there was no sense protesting. The doctor did, after all, make a logical argument. In this instance. So instead, he simply took out his communicator to send M'Benga a quick message explaining the situation.

"Well, Commander, looks like you're fit as a fiddle, so Jimbo here's got nothin' to worry 'bout," he said, still scrolling through the results.

Beside him, Jim smiled and huffed in relief, stepping closer. "Guess you'll be good to come with us tomorrow after all, Spock." A strange moment passed wherein Jim raised his hand a few inches, then let it drop with a jerk.

There was a delay as Spock blinked at Jim, attempting to figure out the reason for such odd body language. Then he tilted his head. "I was unaware that had been in question, Captain."

McCoy interrupted them. "Although…" His musing trailed off ominously as he squinted at the screen.

Jim tensed up and stepped over to try to peek at the tricorder. Though Spock raised a brow, he chose not to bring up the regulations regarding patient confidentiality. "What? What's wrong?"

"Not really sure, if I'm honest. I was comparing Spock's brain outputs to those from his checkup a couple months ago, and there are some differences that aren't accounted for by normal deviations over time. Looks almost like acute stress but that can't be right…"

Spock froze. It should have occurred to him that McCoy would cross check his results and see something of the bond. It should have, and yet it had not. Because he had been too distracted by Jim, by the opportunity to remain longer in his presence, to ease his anxieties firsthand.

And now Jim looked even more worried. "Maybe we should go get M'Benga after all. I can –"

He was turning in the direction of the offices when Spock stepped forward to gain his attention. "No. There is no need. I am aware of the change and its cause. It is nothing potentially dangerous."

The doctor raised his brows at him. "…You gonna enlighten your CMO and your captain?"

It took some strength of will not to clench his jaw. "Negative. It is a personal matter, and since it is irrelevant to my health or my ability to perform my duties, I am not obligated to 'enlighten' you." Telling any sort of half-truth was always uncomfortable, but doing so to his captain, especially in this context, made him feel rather ill.

They were both frowning at him now, though Jim's was more concerned and perhaps hurt than McCoy's irritated scowl.

"This is your brain we're talkin' about, Spock, and you're not a doctor, or a healer for that matter. Now if you don't want to talk to us about it, fine, but you should at least run it by M'Benga."

The look Spock gave him was no doubt quite chilly. "I will take your opinion under advisement."

Just as McCoy was about to reply, his scowl deepening, Jim clapped him rather hard on the shoulder. "Leave it, Bones. If he says he knows what's up and that it's not a problem, then we should trust him. He'd never let himself endanger the ship or the crew by not reporting something that could compromise him."

The confident smile Jim directed at Spock, as well as his words, should have eased the knot in Spock's gut. Instead, it felt like an accusation, the knot growing tighter.

He inclined his head without quite meeting Jim's eyes. If Jim noticed, there was no outward sign.

McCoy huffed, his arms crossed. "Fine. But my suggestion stands. Damn, secretive hobgoblins, makin' my job harder than it needs to be." He waved a hand to encompass them both. "But fine. You're both in the clear for good health, and Jim can stop his fretting. Now take your Vulcan and get outta my Medbay." With that, he stomped away toward the more occupied far corner, the patients there not looking too enthused about his approach.

Jim cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "Well, I'm glad to know you're doing okay." His gaze flicked over to meet Spock's, searching or perhaps waiting for something.

Spock blinked at him. "Thank you, Jim. I am also gratified that you are in good health."

Jim's mouth tensed for a moment, hesitant. "So…that thing. Um. I won't pry if you don't want me to, but were you just being tight-lipped because McCoy was there or…?"

Tension coiled around Spock's spine once more. "It is not something I wish to discuss at present."

After a moment of staring, Jim swallowed, his gaze dropping. "Oh. Right, okay." Then he was smiling, easy and friendly as if nothing had happened, but it smacked of falsehood. "No problem. You have a right to your privacy."

Confusion and concern made an uneasy pair, but Spock could not afford to speak further on the matter, lest he capitulate in the face of Jim's smile, even one that did not feel quite genuine. He had, after all, included himself in the percentages he'd cited yesterday. So he merely nodded. "Thank you, Captain."

Jim returned the nod and cleared his throat as they began to walk toward the exit by unspoken agreement. "Well. What are your plans for the rest of your free day?"

The stones in his pocket suddenly felt heavier than before, nonsensical as the notion was. "There is much work in the labs that I must complete today, before the start of our mission."

"Aw, c'mon Spock, you're supposed to use your days off to have some fun, relax."

"As you have told me on numerous occasions. And again my response is that I find working in the labs to be quite enjoyable. If it would appease you, I can assure you that the project is of personal interest, rather than professional obligation."

Jim made a considering sound. "That's better, I guess. Is it that one project you mentioned the other day? Are you far enough along to tell me about it?"

"Not at present. However, I anticipate it being completed this evening." Nervousness made him hesitate just a moment before he continued. "Will you be available?"

Jim's face brightened with pleased surprise. "Yeah, I should be."

They had slowed at a point where the corridor split off, as their intended paths diverged. "Would you then be amenable to dinner in my quarters?"

Something flickered over Jim's face before he grinned, causing that thrill in Spock's abdomen again. "Sure, that sounds great, Spock. Does 1800 work?"

His mouth pressed into an almost-smile. "Indeed."

"Great! See you then." With a small wave, Jim spun to head down the corridor to the primary turbolift.

Without truly meaning to, Spock watched him go until he'd disappeared around the curve of the ship. It was illogical, but he did not wish to add to the distance between them himself. Already the bond was starting to tremble and ache, like a cable stretched to just before its snapping point. It felt worse than the last time they had parted, though it was impossible to say if that was due to time worsening the symptoms or his lack of meditation.

After a few more steadying breaths, he forced himself to turn away, toward the lift that would take him to the lab levels. This was endurable. It was necessary. He could yet go some hours before meditation was required, and since he would likely have little time to do so, it would be best to do it as close to when he would be meeting Jim as possible. That would be when he'd need his controls the most, not while by himself in the lab.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Nyota walked into McCoy's office with a bright grin on her face, and started talking before she'd even finished sitting down. "Oh my god, you will not believe this. I couldn't have planned it better myself. So the Negazi apparently wear –"

"I'm out," he said, before she could rope him into whatever plan she'd come up with. Knowing how sharp and persuasive Nyota could be, he braced himself to hold his position, his arms crossing reflexively. Dealing with Jim and his goddamn puppy eyes over the years had given him plenty of practice.

Caught in the middle of settling into her chair, she blinked at him, confused. "You're…what now?"

"The whole…matchmaking thing or whatever you wanna call it." He shook his head. "I can't do it. Before, I thought it was just Jim with a little crush and it might be fun to tease him a bit, but… Hell, this ain't no fun and games. That kid's dead serious in love with the hobgoblin, though stars know why." His scowl took on a trace of disgust.

If anything, Nyota appeared to be even more confused now, her face scrunched up as if she'd lost the plot. "Well, yes," she said slowly. "You thought…" Her eyes narrowed as she raised her hand in a 'hold up' gesture. "Wait wait wait. Jim hadn't told you? And you hadn't noticed. Are you fucking with me?"

Pride got his hackles up worse than a barn cat, and he scowled something fierce. "No he didn't tell me! You sayin' he told you?" He looked off to the side as he continued to grumble, "He's gonna get so many hypos at his next physical..."

She rolled her eyes, irritation starting to pinch her expression. "Of course he didn't tell me. I'm Spock's friend. Not exactly the best choice for a confidant. But he didn't have to, with the way he talked about Spock constantly when we weren't covering language lessons and the look in his eyes and the fact that he hasn't even tried to get laid in almost a year. Jim Kirk, forgoing sex. It was kind of...obvious."

Great. Now he felt like a shitty friend. And stupid to boot. "Well not to me! I'm a doctor, not a communications expert." He crossed his arms tighter, not taking it as a good sign that he was on the defensive so soon in the conversation.

"But weren't you just talking about his pining the other day?"

"I meant puppy love, grade-school pining. That kid plays his cards pretty close to his chest most of the time. More than he probably realizes. But when we were at the Academy, I only ever saw him infatuated with a person for as long as it took to get in their pants. I honestly just thought he was aromantic, at least to some degree."

She sighed and rubbed wearily at the bridge of her nose as she muttered to herself, though not quietly enough that he couldn't hear. Which was obviously on purpose. "Of course I decided to team up with the divorcee. What was I thinking."

The chair creaked as he leaned forward, pointing at her and scowling, despite it lacking much bite. After all, more of his anger was directed at himself and the situation than at Nyota. "Now that's just uncalled for. Besides, being divorced means I did manage to get married in the first place. I can't have been completely awful at all that romance business."

The look she gave him was utterly unimpressed. Kinda bore an eerie resemblance to one of Spock's stock expressions. "I think the fact that you refer to it as 'romance business' is pretty telling." She even included finger quotes.

McCoy harrumphed. "Whatever, point is, I know now, and I'm no longer comfortable going along with whatever schemes ya been brewin'." After placing both hands on the desk, he looked her square in the eye. "Mainly because, after thinkin' about it, you didn't even sound that sure that Spock returns Jim's feelings. Has he actually told you or given you any solid hint that he does?"

She confidently opened her mouth to respond, then paused, the unused words falling away without a sound. A sliver of uncertainty creeped into her expression. "Well…not really? It's just…a feeling I get when he talks about him or looks at him when he thinks no one is watching. He basically flat-out denied it when I brought it up a couple days ago..." She trailed off, eyes going distant for a moment before they snapped back into focus. "But like I said before, I don't think he's realized his own feelings yet. Or he's just really good at hiding them. I'd say it's a toss-up."

That was nowhere near good enough. His scowl deepened. "If he's even got 'em. Now see, I'm not gonna risk Jim's heart on a hunch. It's been through hell as it is. And I mean that as close to literally as is possible. I get that you're trying to help out your clueless best friend. But Jim is as much my family as Joanna, and I'm gonna prioritize him over every other person on this ship no matter what, every time. And honestly, even if you could convince me that Spock is secretly in love with Jim, I'm still not sure I'd be on board."

Throughout his little speech, Nyota's expression had been softening in understanding, maybe even a little concern, but now her head pulled back in offense, eyes narrow and words cold. "And why is that?"

He held up a diffusing hand. "Hold on now. This is about what Jim needs, and what Spock can provide. I don't think that kid had any sort of close, healthy relationship before me. And with him being his empathetic, puppy-dog self on top of that, he's damn near starved for affection, more than I can give him. Now he thinks I haven't noticed, but I know he holds himself back around me, always has, because he could tell I'm not comfortable being the 'cuddly' friend. And while what we've got suits us just fine, I know that for any sort of romantic partnership, he's gonna need someone who can freely and gladly give him…all of that. Or he's goin' to do the same damn thing with them as he has with me only worse, and make himself small to fit to their preference, rather than say what he needs. And that will kill him slowly."

Troubled surprise clear on her face – having replaced the anger – Nyota sat back in her chair. "I…didn't know Jim had been through anything like that…" She pursed her mouth for a moment, brow pinched. "So you're worried that Spock won't be able to be…demonstrative enough."

"Well you know him." He waved a vague hand. "You gonna tell me he gets all expressive and gushy when you two have your nerd-club hang-outs?"

She worried at her lip. "…No, he doesn't. And while that might be different for bondmates, or even potential bondmates, your concerns…might have merit. I don't know. Vulcans don't really publish much research on the particular intimacies of their relationships, of any kind, so I can't really tell you anything to the contrary." A thoughtful frown creased her brow. "But I will say that I think, for a bondmate, Spock would be willing to bend his adherence to Vulcan norms a lot to prevent from hurting them or depriving them of something they need. I mean, his mom seemed pretty happy with Sarek from what I got the chance to see, and trust me, she wasn't exactly the subdued or distant sort. Spock is half-human."

That earned only a small hesitation as he considered what were admittedly somewhat decent points. "Well, half the amount of affection Jim needs still isn't good enough. I don't want Jim ending up in a relationship that hurts him more than it makes him happy. Just because he loves Spock doesn't mean they're good for each other. Romantically, at least."

After a few seconds of contemplation, Nyota pursed her mouth, looking distinctly unhappy about the turn their discussion had taken. "I suppose it doesn't, but I think they would be. Spock is a good, caring person. He'd make a good, caring partner. And even you have to admit that he adores Jim."

"So do I, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna start dating him." He suppressed a shudder at the thought. Not that there was anything wrong with Jim, just…it was like thinking about dating a brother. Not to mention they'd be a disaster as a couple, for reasons he'd already touched on.

She huffed and stood, using the height to look down her nose at him. "Fine. I'm not going to make you help me. This whole thing isn't really up to us anyway. Jim's going to keep on loving him regardless of your opinion, and Spock's smart enough that he'll figure his shit out eventually. I'd just prefer it didn't take the whole fucking mission."

With a final parting glare, she spun around so that her ponytail snapped behind her and left.

Feeling as though he'd just been through a battle, he slumped back in his chair. "Well that went well."

The tense silence of the room seemed to agree with him.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It had been a while since Jim had been this relieved to have the day off. After all of the emotional stress of the past week – both positive and negative – some time to decompress and catch up with himself was sorely needed. He liked to imagine that Spock felt something similar when he needed to meditate.

So after his (involuntary) visit to Medbay, he retreated to his quarters to catch up on his leisure reading for a while. It calmed him enough that by the time he was supposed to meet Bones for lunch in the Officer's Mess, the knot of anxiety that had built up behind his breastbone had eased considerably. And though it still lingered as his thoughts strayed to whatever was going on with Spock and his closed-off silence, he felt more like himself and found it easier to smile at the officers he passed in the corridor.

Bones was already there and glowering in the general direction of his salad – nothing unusual then. But he did look especially grumpy compared to this morning. As Jim got his food and sat, he made sure to set his tray down a bit too hard so that his friend jumped.

"Dammit, Jim," he said in the face of Jim's grin.

"Something eating you? You looked like you were planning a murder. Or maybe that's just your face. It's hard to tell sometimes."

After an unamused grunt, Bones began stabbing up a bite of salad. "'M fine. What about you? Still feeling like a winter-born colt?"

Jim shrugged. "Nah, the time off is helping, I think. And good thing, too. Nothing's worse than trying to get through a diplomatic mission with already high blood pressure."

"Of course it's got nothin' to do with the meds I gave you," he said pointedly. When Jim just gave him his most oblivious dumb-blonde look, Bones rolled his eyes. "Speaking of health, I take it you're not going to tell me about Spock's thing?"

Jim's oblivious expression was no longer feigned. "His…thing?"

"You know, that brain thing he was being hush hush about."

"Um…" Jim blinked at him, incredulous. "Why would I know anything about it?"

A moment passed where they both stared as though the other was touched in the head.

"Because," Bones said with exaggerated slowness. "I assumed he just didn't want to talk to me. You mean you weren't able to get it out of him after I left? You did ask, right?"

Flushing, Jim looked down and tried to quiet his unease. "I…yeah, I did. But he brushed me off." He shrugged. "Guess it's just something he'd rather keep to himself."

After taking a slow breath that somehow managed to sound furious, Bones grumbled something under his breath that Jim wasn't able to catch.

Jim hurried to ease the tension. "It's fine, Bones. Just because we've gotten closer recently doesn't mean he's obligated to tell me everything."

"When it concerns his health, he is! You tell him everything, don't you? Or at least most things. Least he could do is reciprocate a bit, the damn, cold-hearted Vulcan."

Wincing at having a sore spot prodded, Jim tried to focus on eating his sandwich. "Exactly. He's Vulcan. It's a bigger deal for them to open up. The fact that he's willing to listen and offer emotional support is probably huge on its own. I shouldn't hold him to human standards of progression."

He could feel Bones's eyes on him. "You wish you could, though."

"Yeah, well." He fiddled with straightening his sandwich back up. "Doesn't matter what I wish. So I'm not going to throw a tantrum or whine about it. He deserves to have his privacy respected."

They ate in silence for a time before Bones blurted out, "I just don't understand it."

Jim finished swallowing his bite of food. "What?"

Bones made a face. "You loving the hobgoblin."

Every muscle in Jim's body tensed up as he glanced around the room to see if anyone was paying attention, and also to distract himself from the horrible, gut-dropping sensation he got from hearing those words said out loud. Thankfully, there were few people around and no closer than several tables away.

Then he glared across the table. "What the fuck Bones? I thought we had an unofficial agreement not to talk about that, and certainly not somewhere public."

His hands and lungs were shaking with adrenaline as the words continued to echo in his head. He might have admitted to himself what he felt for Spock, but he'd also made it his mission not to think about it as much as possible. So even in his own head, it wasn't a phrase he heard often. The closest he usually came was lingering in the feeling in his weaker moments. It was beyond jarring to actually have it pulled into reality, where he could no longer look away or tell himself that there was even the slightest chance he was mistaken.

"What? It's not like they can hear us. And you should probably talk to at least someone about it. Doesn't even have to be me, but I doubt you've got many other appropriate options."

"Thanks for reminding me," he said dryly, attempting to fall back on levity and sass to deflect.

Bones gave him a look and waited. And waited. With Jim placidly chewing on his sandwich.

"Well?"

Jim took a gulp of water. "Nope."

"Whaddya mean 'nope'?" The frustration had brought Bones's scowl back full force.

"I don't have to talk to anyone about it. In fact, I am perfectly content to let it fester while ignoring its existence, which you should know by now I am really good at. Definitely one of my top five skills, right up there with sex and bullshitting."

The staring contest continued, with Bones's angry wrinkles getting deeper by the second. "I could order you to see one of our therapists."

"Only if you had justifiable cause. Which you don't. My health and work performance isn't suffering, and I'm not sitting around sighing into the distance as I pine away. I'm fine." He had to be.

Bones glared. "You really want it to reach the point where it isn't anymore? Heartache ain't no laughing matter and you know it. Psychology is biology, and that shit can make you sick just as surely as any alien virus."

Heaving a sigh, Jim dropped his half-eaten sandwich back on the plate and ran a hand over his face. Yeah, he knew all of that – intimately. It had always been of a different sort in the past, but the feeling was similar enough. His jaw trembled, just once, as the weight of everything, both past and looming large, threatened to crush him. But then he swallowed it back down.

"Look, I know, okay? I fucking know," Jim said, low and quiet. He took a careful breath, feeling cornered. "How about this, you drop it, and I promise that if it…becomes too much, I'll go to either you or Dr. Retner. I may hate talking about this stuff, but you know I'd never endanger my crew with my stubbornness. Deal?"

Though Bones looked like he was sucking on a lemon, he eventually nodded, much to Jim's overwhelming relief. "Fine. But don't think I won't be monitoring your neural patterns like a hawk." He stabbed a threatening finger at Jim.

Finally able to manage some semblance of a smile, Jim shrugged. "I'd expect nothing less." He took a few more hasty bites of his sandwich and then feigned looking at his wrist, despite the fact that no one wore watches anymore. "Oh, well, look at that, I should be on my way to meet up with Sulu now that he's off shift. See ya, Bones."

As he retreated, Bones called after him, "Jim, get back here and finish your damn sandwich. Or at least don't leave your shit for me to clean up. Jim! Ya big baby!"

Well, fuck. There went any inner peace he'd managed to scrape together earlier. He loved Bones, he really did, but sometimes he could be more insensitive than Spock had ever been, despite meaning well. Wrong time, wrong fucking place, wrong approach entirely. Jim shook his head as he waited for the turbolift. Hopefully sparring with Sulu would help his scraping nerves get back to feeling not so raw. It had always helped before, when he'd been an angry teen and even very young adult.

A wry smile pulled at his mouth. Spock probably wouldn't approve of him thinking about fighting as his own version of meditation. Or maybe he would, what with that whole suus mahna thing. For a long moment, he got caught up in thinking about how Spock looked while going through his forms, all focused control and lethal beauty. Then he shook himself. No, he refused to pine, goddammit.

Or at least, he refused to admit to it.