Jim bounced from foot to foot as he waited for the door to the gym to recognize his code and open. Bones had finally decided his ankle was healed enough for him to work out as long he promised not to do anything too strenuous and to see him if anything started hurting.

The door slid open, and he stepped inside, smiling. A couple of crew members who were working out on the mats looked up as he entered and waved hello. He waved back and took a spot on one of the empty mats and began going through his typical warm-up and stretch routine. Two different crew members stepped over to welcome him back, and he felt warmth bloom in his chest.

When he had been in the Academy and gunning for captain one day a number of professors had warned him that crew members would try to cozy up to him and flatter him in order to earn themselves better positions and promotions. And while it had happened a few times, those incidents had been few and far between. No, his crew actually cared about him and about one another, and Jim couldn't ask for anything more than that.

Once he was warmed up he jogged over to the track and settled into an easy run. As one lap turned into two and three and four, the universe seemed to fall back into place. Mostly. As he ran, his mind sifted through the day and settled into a pleasant hum, marred only by a quiet sense of not-quite-right. He focused in on that feeling as he rounded another corner, barely feeling the burn in his legs.

Everything had gone perfectly today, so why did something still feel wrong? At first, he thought it might be Tarsus and the poison those memories tended to seep into his mind, but no. Those feelings would likely return tonight for a time, but here in the brightness and grounding sensation of his feet against the floor they held no sway over him.

So what was it?

He went around the track once more before he found an answer. Spock. He hadn't seen Spock at all today. For a moment, a sense of self-consciousness fell over him—was he really so dependent on Spock that not having his First Officer at his side affected him this way? But the feeling quickly faded. Spock was more than just his First Officer. They were friends, and they relied on one another. That's simply how things were.

Well, the feeling would disappear soon enough. He had invited Spock to play chess tonight, and he had replied in the affirmative almost immediately. It had been several days since they had last been able to play, and Jim was looking forward to a mental workout to accompany his physical one. He never had to worry about his senses becoming dull with Spock to challenge him.

His thoughts drifted into remembrance of their last few games and a potential strategy for tonight. Eventually, the burning in his muscles became too powerful for him to push aside, and he slowed to a jog, then a walk, and then came to a stop, moving back to the mat he had used earlier for a few post-run stretches. When he had finished he left the gym, whistling softly to himself as he made his way back to his rooms. He would need to wash up and eat something before Spock arrived.

. . .

Jim's rooms were comfortably warm when Spock stepped inside. Although he had told Jim several times that he did not need to go out of his way to ensure Spock's comfort, the man continued to do so. After a moment of hesitation Spock took his typical seat. Jim was not in the room currently, although he could hear movement coming from their shared 'fresher.

Not long after, the door slid open and Jim stepped through, his hair slightly damp from the shower he had evidently recently finished. He had changed into lounge clothes, a long-sleeved grey shirt and black sweatpants that made Spock wonder if he too should have changed.

"Sorry I'm a little late, Spock," Jim said, smiling at him as he crossed the room. "I lost track of time at the gym."

"There is no need for apologies, Jim. Have you eaten, or would you prefer to delay our game?"

Jim waved a hand, plopping into his chair. "Nah, I ate before I showered. Turns out my body is more than happy to return to three meals a day."

Spock nodded and began to set up the chessboard that sat between them. "The eating habits of the Ewlean were not included in any of the briefings we received. I made note of the lack of information in my report."

"I saw, and I'm glad you did. It's a small thing, missing a meal, but there are plenty of people that could seriously impact," Jim said, arranging the black pieces on his side of the chessboard. "No harm done to us, though. Your turn to play white, Mister Spock."

He considered the board for several moments, trying to decide on his opening gambit. Eventually, he moved a pawn forward and turned his attention to Jim. He had wished to be on the bridge with the man today, but looking at him now it seemed as if the day had been kind to him. The tension that so often sat in his shoulders was all but gone, and his gaze was relaxed as he examined the board. It was a pleasant change from the stress that had plagued the man throughout their mission on Ewle.

"How did your experiment down in the labs go?" Jim asked as he moved his own pawn forward, breaking Spock from his thoughts.

"The first stage of tests on the alloy have proven more successful than originally anticipated," he answered. "The experiment will be repeated several times over the next four days and the resulting data will be compiled and analyzed before being sent to the Starfleet research division. More extensive testing will then occur at a planet-bound research center."

Jim nodded, and Spock felt his eyes on him as he moved another pawn. "This is the alloy you were hoping would be able to enhance the sensor power input capabilities, right?"

"Indeed. Should Starfleet verify our results and obtain a significant quantity of the alloy, all starships will be equipped with the improved sensors within two years." He met Jim's eyes and saw the man smiling fondly.

"Sometimes, Spock, I wonder why you decided to sign on with an exploratory vessel instead of a primarily scientific one," he mused, fingers turning the knight he was planning on using over in his hand. "You've done an incredible job as Chief Science Officer—I don't say that enough."

Spock carefully regulated the rush of blood that threatened to stain his cheeks. "Your praise is unnecessary, Jim," he said, eyes flicking down to where the man was now moving his knight up a level. "I have remained aboard the Enterprise because I am more than satisfied with my position here and the opportunities it affords me. There will be time enough for additional experiments later in my life."

Jim's only reply to that was a widened smile and a nod at the chessboard. Spock considered it for a few moments before moving his pawn forward. It was the beginning of a trap he intended to build for one of Jim's rooks, although such plans rarely proceeded as he expected when they played.

"Have you been resting well?" Spock asked after seven minutes and thirty seconds of silent gameplay passed between them. He did not feel the need to disturb the silence—he rarely did with Jim—but the question had been sitting in his mind for some time.

Jim's eyes turned reflective as he nudged his rook forward. "Honestly, no, but I expected that. Your meditation techniques have been helpful though—I've gotten a few more hours each night than I used to when my brain was like this."

Concern and sorrow raced through Spock's mind, and he let himself feel both emotions in their fullness. It was painful to know that the radiant man across from him was suffering, but the knowledge that he had been able to help in some small way was a balm to the ache. "If you desire for me to instruct you further, I am available to assist you whenever you require," he said, hoping that Jim could hear the honesty in his words. He would never turn the man away, regardless of the hour.

"Thank you, Spock. We'll see how the next few days go, and then I might take you up on that."

Spock nodded and turned his attention back to the board, studying it for several moments before moving his knight to claim Jim's rook. Jim chuckled quietly and shook his head as Spock removed the piece from the board.

"I should have seen that one. If I lose this match, I'm blaming it on the fact that we haven't played in a while," he declared, and the lighting of the room made his eyes seem as if they glowed with the gentle light of twin suns.

Spock merely inclined his head in response, which caused Jim's grin to widen. The man shook his head with another chuckle and picked up his other rook. He reached up to move it to the highest level of the board, and when he did so the sleeve of his shirt pulled up, revealing a number of cuts on his arm. They were mostly scabbed over, but the skin around them was an angry red still.

His breath caught in his throat, memories of Jim standing alone in the center of a gravel arena flashing in front of his eyes. Jim must have seen where his gaze had traveled, for he quickly pulled his sleeve back down. "I should have bandaged them after my shower, but they're fine, really," he assured.

Spock's eyes didn't leave the sleeve. Concern, guilt, anger, uncertainty, fear, and a dozen other emotions he could not even begin to name swept over him, pulling his mind into a roiling sea where the only clear thought was of Jim. He reached out to take the man's arm into his hands but froze halfway across the board.

"Ashayam." The word, laden with the emotions, slipped out on a breath, hanging in the air between them.

. . .

Jim was frozen to his chair, eyes wide as his mind scrambled at warp seven. Every other time Spock had called him that they had been arguing and on duty. He had just assumed that it meant 'captain' and decided to ignore it so as not to bring his friend any further embarrassment, but now he thought his assumption might be wrong.

The dim lighting of Jim's rooms threw Spock's features into sharp relief, and Jim didn't have to look hard to see the emotions written there. It was obvious Spock was worried about him, but there was something deeper there too. Something...softer.

He swallowed, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. Did Spock…? Could he...? Were they…? He swallowed again, forcing down the lump in his throat. He was a starship captain! He wasn't going to back out of this, not when it was Spock—Spock who had always stood by his side, Spock who had never judged him, Spock who looked at him now with his entire soul visible in his eyes.

"That's the third time you've called me that," he said, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. "At first I thought it meant 'captain', but now…" Spock's eyes closed briefly, and Jim felt something flutter in his chest.

. . .

When Spock opened his eyes again, he was determined to see this through. Perhaps Nyota would be correct, perhaps she would not be, but he could not continue in silence any longer. He had never been able to deny Jim anything, and the question he had not asked was heavy in the air. It would not be ignored.

He placed his hands palm down on the table next to the board and Jim—who had always been so intuitive when it came to Spock—covered them with his own, his shirt sleeve once again slipping upward. While not entirely proper, it was not an obscene gesture, and it would allow Spock to project the emotions he knew he would have difficulty putting into words.

Raising his head, Spock met Jim's eyes and saw a universe there. "Ashayam means 'beloved' in the tongue of my people," he whispered, opening his shields to allow that same love to flow to Jim through their hands. The man gasped quietly, eyes widening, and Spock carefully extracted his hands, cutting off the link.

"This does not need to impact our current friendship," he explained, eyes now fixed on one of the black knights on the board. "I will continue to exercise control over my emotions and will devote more time to strengthening my shields. I do not intend to—"

"Stop, Spock, just stop," Jim said, and Spock shut his mouth immediately. When the silence lingered, he looked up and was met with the sight of Jim's brow furrowed in thought, eyes confused.

The sight caused something painful to lance through Spock's side. He should not have spoken. He was not the one to boldly leap without looking, regardless of what Doctor McCoy believed awaited him. Nyota had been earnest but misguided, and he should have seen that before speaking. The depth and truth of his own emotions had no bearing on whether Jim shared them. If he had stopped to consider the consequences of his actions—

His spiraling thoughts were abruptly cut off by the sound of laughter. He looked up, startled, and saw the frown on Jim's face had been replaced with a wide smile, eyes now full of mirth. Spock frowned, uncertain. Was this laughter directed at him? He did not believe Jim to be the type of man to mock him for his feelings even if they were unrequited, but perhaps…

Jim must have seen the fear and uncertainty in his expression for he quickly sobered. He reached back across the table, and Spock allowed his hands to be taken, enveloped by Jim's warmth, although he kept tight control over his shields.

"I'm not laughing at you, Spock," Jim declared, voice solemn. Despite himself, Spock believed him. How could he not? "I'm laughing at myself. I've always known you were important to me—more important than most people in my life—but I'd never thought to call it love. Now, though, I realize that's exactly what this feeling is." He chuckled again, shaking his head. "I've only ever fallen in love hard and fast, not gradually like this, so I didn't recognize it. No wonder Bones has been giving me looks every time I call you my friend!"

Something akin to hope flickered in Spock's mind, but he smothered the flame. He would not allow it to color his judgment now. "Jim, do not allow my words to have an undue impact on yourself. If the depth of my affection for you is not returned, you need not pretend otherwise. I would not have you unhappy because of me."

Jim's smile quickly morphed into a creased frown. "Can't you feel that I'm telling the truth?" he asked, glancing down at where their hands met.

"I am shielding myself from your emotions," Spock replied carefully. The hope was returning, and he cautiously allowed it to while simultaneously preparing himself for the rejection that would likely come.

"Don't," Jim urged, warm eyes capturing his own. "I know what I'm doing, Spock. There's nothing in my mind I don't want you to see."

Spock swallowed and then slowly lowered the shields he had erected. For a moment, there was nothing, and then Jim's emotions slammed into him in a wall of mental force, as strong and vibrant as the man across from him was. It took Spock several moments to identify the emotions in any detail beyond their immense strength, but when he did his eyes widened. Jim had not attempted to filter his emotions and so a myriad of them now swam in Spock's mind, but the brightest among them was love, strong and deep.

How? How could this man love him like this? What had he done to deserve such devotion from one such as he?

Jim gently pulled his hands away, and the overwhelming connection disappeared, leaving Spock with a gaping hole in his mind. His eyes refocused on Jim to find the man standing from his chair. He followed him with his gaze as he moved around the small table and stopped a hair's breadth from Spock's own seat. His presence was nearly overwhelming and yet Spock wanted, needed more of it.

"I would like to kiss you if that's okay," Jim whispered into the air between them, bending down. Spock could only nod his acceptance, his mind too overwhelmed to form words with any semblance of coherency.

A smile pulled at Jim's lips and then he closed the distance between them, one hand coming up to Spock's chin and tilting it so that when their lips met it was at the perfect angle. Jim's lips moved against his own, and Spock poured all of his love into his response, mind awash with the light of Jim's emotions.

Spock broke their kiss to stand and then quickly resumed it once they were level with one another, drinking in the feeling of Jim's lips against his. His arms came up and wrapped around Jim—one on his hip and the other across his shoulder blades—pulling him closer. Jim laughed softly, one of his own hands moving up to Spock's hair and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

Eventually—after the universe passed away and was reborn again and the stars died only to spawn an even brighter generation—Jim pulled away, breathless. He leaned his head against Spock's, his arms sliding down to encircle his waist.

"Now do you believe me?" he asked once he had caught his breath. Spock could hear the smile in his voice and did not try to stop his own from forming as he replied,

"I do, ashayam."

Jim hummed at the word. "Say it again."

Something in Spock's mind leapt at the quietly murmured request. "I cherish thee, ashayam," he whispered against Jim's lips, and it was as if a dam in his mind broke. T'nash-veh masu—my water in the desert. T'nash-veh rau-nol—my refuge from the storm. I love thee, Jim, and even if I said as much in every language I know it would not be enough to capture the depth of my affection toward you."

Jim's answering love shone brightly in his mind as the man laughed, the sound breathless and vibrant. "I love you too, Spock. One day, you're going to have to teach me how to say that in your own language."

Spock closed the scant distance between their lips once more in an achingly slow, tender kiss that held the promise of a lifetime to do whatever they pleased together. When he pulled away, Jim's lips were wet and a beautifully exotic red that made Spock want to capture them again. Instead, he placed a quick kiss to the corner of Jim's mouth and pulled back, resting their foreheads together once again.

"Of course, t'hy'la. There will be time for that," he promised.

Jim sighed against his lips. "I like that one. It feels like us."

Spock smiled softly. "It is."

They met in another kiss, and the universe fell away until it was the two of them with an infinite future stretching before them at one another's side.