Notes:

20th June 2008

"Fuck it!" Jim shouted, grabbing a random dish off the drying rack and hurling it at the kitchen door. It exploded into white shards over the tiles, and he followed it up with two more and a glass before he heard the familiar rumble of a car pulling up into the drive.

Today of all days, he had to be home early?

Jim shrugged off the irritated thought as unfair and stomped out of the kitchen to arrive in the doorway to the living room just as Spock opened the front door.

"I need a hug," he said briskly, before kicking the door shut behind Spock and sweeping him into a tight grip that probably made his bones creak just a little.

"Jim? What is the matter?" Spock managed. He stared at Jim's face for a second before he said: "Have you been drinking?"

"Oh, how did I fucking guess you'd ask that one?" Jim snapped, then winced and let go of Spock to run both hands over his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I've just had a really, really bad day."

"What happened?" Spock asked, toeing off his shoes and hanging up his suit jacket in the closet. For once, he abandoned the briefcase to the hall floor.

"I had a five-minute meeting with the boss," Jim said flippantly, and scowled. "I got fired, Spock. I'm unemployed. I've lost my fucking job!"

"Oh Jim," Spock said, drawing him back into a hug. Jim clung on fiercely, pressing his nose into the warm skin of his neck. He smelled of tea and the outdoors from having the windows open on the drive home, and vaguely of fresh salad from somewhere or other.

"The fuck am I going to do?" Jim mumbled.

"It will be alright," Spock murmured, squeezing lightly at the back of Jim's neck before the hand came down to rub soothingly at his taut shoulders. "We do not have the concerns of rent, and my wages will cover the bills without too much stress."

"Oh right, and they'll cover upkeep on the car, and our trips for your birthday, and our luxuries, will they?" Jim snapped, before wilting and adjusting his grip again. "Shit, sorry..."

"We will simply have to stop taking trips for a while."

"Fuck that – it's your birthday, and..."

"And as long as it is with you, I do not care where it is spent," Spock interrupted smoothly. "We will be alright, Jim. This is not the end of the world – and you have plenty of work experience. I am sure you will be able to find another job soon enough."

"Yeah, well, I need another job now! I can't just leave everything up to you – your pay might be bigger than mine, but it isn't that big!"

"It will suffice – and it will do so without too much difficulty until you can find other work. If we paid rent, there might be a problem, but as it is, we will be fine, Jim," Spock urged. "We will be alright. This is merely a minor setback; we will be alright."

"Yeah," Jim mumbled, heaving a long sigh and lifting his head to press his nose to the tender spot just underneath Spock's ear before exhaling. He managed a small smile as Spock shivered at the sensation. "Still got a house, and I still got you, and I can get a new job, I guess. Sorry."

"There is nothing to apologise for," Spock insisted, and Jim shook his head, easing back to stroke his hands up and down Spock's upper arms, his anger and tension finally beginning to dissipate properly.

"Um, there kinda is. I had a bit of a hissy fit in the kitchen, and...kind of took it out on the plates."

"Jim..."

"I'll clean it up, I promise," Jim added hastily. "And it was only a couple of things...and a glass. Nothing expensive or anything."

"There is glass on the kitchen floor?"

"Yeah – which is why," Jim added, tensing when Spock tried to extract himself and investigate, "you're not going in there." He glanced down at Spock's socked feet pointedly.

"And what are we to do about dinner?" Spock asked, folding his arms and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Sulu's invited us over for one of his wok disasters at seven," Jim grimaced. "I think he feels guilty because I got the sack and he didn't."

"Why did you?" Spock asked hesitantly.

"Somebody had to," Jim muttered, hunching his shoulders almost defensively. "The garage hasn't been doing well, what with the financial crap happening lately, so somebody had to go. The guy with the least years and experience under his belt happened to be me. So. Sulu's?"

"I suppose it will suffice – but Jim, the glass..."

"I'll do it in the morning, I promise," Jim repeated, unfolding enough to rub a hand over Spock's elbow. "I just...I just need you for a bit. Please?"

Spock answered by kissing him, winding his arms around Jim's shoulders and drawing the tension out of him. After a moment of the attention, Jim began to relax, dragging his hands down to hold Spock at the waist – and paused, drawing back a fraction to frown at him.

"Why are you so tense?"

"Jim..."

"Why?" Jim pushed, rubbing his fingers over the rigid set of Spock's spine where it ran into his hips. "You're not getting one of your migraines, are you?"

"I...have a mild headache, but..."

"Bedroom," Jim said firmly. "I'll give you a massage and make you melt. And then maybe a shower," he added as Spock gave into the pressure and began to head up the stairs. "It'll get the last of the knots out. And you're sexiest when you're wet."

Sound reasoning.