Spock's attention remained focused on Jim, watching intently even as he turned his face back to the album and began flipping through pages to locate where they'd deviated from; the lack of chronological order posed an issue in quickly accomplishing that.

As Jim began muttering, "Where, where, where?" to himself during his search, Spock leaned forward ever so slightly, and let his eyes fall to his hands resting atop the blanket. Still affected by the words Jim had spoken (after all, being described as perfect after a lifetime of rejection was impossible to simply just accept), he found his thoughts flailing to formulate some sort of appropriate reply.

Perhaps… 'No, Jim, perfection is what you are.'

Spock's eyelids fell and lifted in a slow blink; that simply wouldn't suffice… Though true, it was repetitive and didn't convey the depth of the response he wished to provide. His answer needed to articulate the extremity of Jim's importance, and considering that in itself was immeasurable, Spock found his mind rapidly flipping through a series of adjectives.

'Flawless. Astonishing. Exquisite. Beautiful. Sacrosanct.'

All options fit, but none communicated the extent to which Spock cherished Jim—and upon that very thought, the lights went on in his head.

'Cherished… Treasured. Treasure.'

Spock's shoulders lowered slightly as he exhaled, dark eyes slowly lifting when the correct term suddenly revealed itself, and brought with it the memory of when he last used it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Damn it."

Spock paid no attention to the low grumble that softly emanated from the open bedroom door; an abundance of experience had taught him that there was no need to address it. At the present time, he'd been exposed to the mannerisms of humans for more than half of his life and knew all too well how needlessly sonorous they could be… His own mate was certainly no exception.

It appeared to be acceptable earthen tendency to not only speak but continue speaking when words were utterly unnecessary, to idly produce futile sounds in the form of humming or tapping, to overreact with cacophony or an abundance of colorful metaphors…

Quite frankly, humans simply enjoyed creating noise, and Spock was aware they could resist it no more than he could deny his own nature dictating logic and frugality. Kaiidth. What is, is.

He was seated in his chair before the fireplace with his PADD in hand, scrutinizing a detailed account of suffering Romulan relations that the embassy had provided earlier that day. The troubling situation unfolding in Spock's mind as he read on was enough distraction to justify his neglect of the continuing sounds of light struggle wafting through the air until…

An enraged groan echoed throughout the entire condo suddenly. "Bullshit! I give up!"

One dark eyebrow rose as Spock turned his face toward the bedroom that had become oddly silent in the aftermath of such an outburst. He gently laid his PADD down on the table and stood from his chair, the formal robes adorning him straightening against his thin frame.

Spock quietly walked to the open door and peered into the bedroom, a curious expression taking over his features when he found Jim sitting on the far edge of the mattress. Clearly frustrated, he was leaning forward, elbows against his knees with his face in his hands.

"Jim?"

Spock slowly entered the room, closing the space between them as Jim's arms dropped and he looked over his shoulder.

"I have an issue," he hotly spoke, standing and glowering.

Spock inclined his chin in interest but before he could further inquire, Jim reached to the flaps of his trousers and tugged on them several times, indicating they no longer could be buttoned.

"Look at this! These just fit six months ago!"

Spock's gaze traveled to the source of his bondmate's frustration and then his eyes rose back up as he plainly asked, "Do you not have a substitute pair?"

"A substitute…" Jim began in exasperation before he tossed the flaps down in a huff. "Spock! That isn't even the point! I've been gaining weight like crazy recently and apparently there's nothing I can do to stop it!"

"It is a common side effect of medication, Jim."

"That's not the point either," he stated icily, letting his glare temporarily fall on some random place across the room before returning it to Spock. "It doesn't change the fact that I make you look bad and it's entirely my fault."

Spock's eyebrows knitted down in obvious confusion and his mouth opened; however, he had no opportunity to respond as Jim continued his tirade.

"Don't even tell me I don't! Look at you!" His hand was thrown in the air and fell to indicate the entire length of Spock's body. "You're thin and in perfect shape. And now look at me, at this."

With his face tilting forward, Jim took his bulging midsection in his palms. "Look at my huge stomach, how disgusting this is. For fuck's sake, we're going to a formal event at the embassy! We'll be around Vulcans, all thin and limber with their matching consorts at their sides. I should be a complement, not a distraction. Not embarrassing you by promoting the stereotype of some overweight 'outworlder' too big for his own God damn trousers. But instead, here I am, looking like this—like, like…"

"Treasure."

Whatever words Jim had desired to say next were utterly stolen from his lips when he heard Spock complete his thought. His chin lifted quickly, clearly caught off guard as his gaze once again met his husband's. Strong Vulcan hands reached out and latched firmly to his shoulders.

"…What? Don't just say things like that. …Jesus," Jim stammered, his harangue effectively dissolved and replaced by bewilderment of the reverence in Spock's response.

Those dark brown eyes bore right into him, penetrating through his exterior layers as if they were nothing and then Jim understood the sincerity in that one word. His initial reaction of confusion and disbelief was soothed by the intensity with which Spock lovingly regarded and addressed him—as if he were speaking to his very soul.

Spock slowly nodded his head and he repeated himself softly, "Like treasure, Jim."

The inner ends of Jim's eyebrows elevated slightly and his mouth opened but he was betrayed with silence. He could count on one hand the amount of times in his life that someone had successfully subdued him—thieved the very words from his lips; it was his authoritative and competitive nature to thank for that.

However, there were also as few scarce moments when he appeared emotionally vulnerable and even less in which someone came to his rescue.

For all of his life, Jim had played the role of provider, overseer, and protector. He had always been the hero—always the one to make the difficult decisions, mend the open wounds, and provide direction and inspiration to so many others that it was easy to forget that he, himself, was capable of actually cracking and bleeding at times.

And now, when the universe had flipped upside down and he stood naked and vulnerable before Spock, he found himself experiencing the same comfort he would have given anyone else. It was impossible to deny the way in which he was lulled by what he could see in Spock's gentle eyes and hear in the warmth of his voice.

He was stubborn, however. Refusing to so easily surrender his assertion, Jim finally uttered a response, but his tone had softened greatly to where it was barely above a whisper. "…Well, I don't believe you."

"Are you certain?" Spock asked, lifting a hand and allowing his nimble digits to reach forth and push one gray piece of curled hair off Jim's forehead. "Do you not realize that I find you, today, even more appealing than I did when we first met?"

He stroked his fingers across the same path. "Are you not aware of how honored I am that you have chosen me? How honored I am to always be at your side?" Spock's voice softened. "Have I truly not proven this to you?"

Silence fell between them and time stopped, freezing the moment as they stared into each other's eyes, both searching for something that each knew had already been found long ago. It always came back to this in the end—this common denominator of Jim and Spock, both needing, both providing, both adoring and sheltering and nurturing.

"Here," Spock gently stated as his hand slipped down Jim's figure and lightly touched his stomach.

"Here." His hand lifted and was replaced over where the human heart beat steadily.

"And here." Digits then carefully stroked at the psi point on Jim's temple before they dropped and rested once more on his shoulder.

"You are beautiful, Jim, as you always have been. I will always appreciate all that you are with all that I am."

Spock felt Jim's arms suddenly slip by his narrow sides and encircle him, pulling him into a strong and needful embrace. They both simultaneously held and clung to each other tightly, quietly finding comfort in the other's arms.

"I'm sorry," Jim finally murmured into one slender shoulder. "I'm sorry for saying what I did. I was just frustrated that my trousers don't fit anymore."

"Then perhaps you should simply take them off?"

Jim pulled back just enough so he could lift his head and study Spock's face for several moments, his expression lightening and the hint of a smile playing across his lips.

"Why, Mister Spock! Are you flirting with me?"

Two Vulcan eyebrows ever so innocently shot up in response. "I was merely proposing the most logical solution to the issue."

A small laugh fell from Jim's lips before they met Spock's in a brief kiss. When it broke, Jim reached up and entwined his fingers with Spock's hair, coercing his face down to his own so that their foreheads were touching.

"I like your solution very much, Science Officer. Perhaps you'd like to help me do what you suggested?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Found it!"

Spock's attention suddenly shifted to Jim, as he tapped a hand on the current page he was looking at.

"Here's where we left off, with the camping trip. You know, we really ought to go back there sometime soon. It'd be a good way to drag McCoy out of the house and—"

Remaining silent, Spock regarded Jim and his moving lips, but his mind was elsewhere. The moment had passed, and he'd once again missed an opportunity to reciprocate the confidence Jim had always given him.

However, Spock remembered that Jim didn't liberally dish out compliments for the sake of receiving them in return; they weren't words spoken for the purpose of trading, and perhaps it was better to hold off using it for when the time was right. Forcing the moment would only detract from the meaning.

"Hey."

Spock's eyes focused back on Jim's, realizing he hadn't heard anything he said.

"Something wrong?" Jim asked, concern present on his face. "We can stop if you're tired."

Immediately shaking his head, Spock replied, "No. I was simply considering something of importance."

"Oh? What's that?"

In the blink of an eye, the opportunity had come back to Spock, and this time, he would be sure to take it. The corners of Spock's thin lips edged upwards slightly. "The extent to which I treasure you. …But by all means, Jim, do continue."

With his mouth and eyes softening as he smiled, Jim's gaze fell to Spock's chest as he seemed to take his own moment to think something to himself, and then turned back to the album. He dug his shoulders back against the wall of soft pillows, adjusting the book so that the bottom edge rested across both of their thighs, and then turned the page.