What do I feel? Why do I feel it? What has Jim become to me? What is the nature of things?
Spock meditated on his feelings, focusing his thoughts so that they only concentrated on Jim. The immediate effect was devastating, as each one of the Captain's smiles directed towards Spock flashed through his mind, being compared with the smiles – both false and real – that Jim gave to other people. Okay. When Jim smiled at him it affected him deeply but pleasantly. It made him feel warm and appreciated. Friendship explained that.
Then he focused on touch, comparing how he felt when Jim touched him – grateful, from that very first unexpected touch when he aided Spock in purging his grief. Respected – whenever Jim touched Spock he was careful with the emotions he let Spock feel, never allowing negative emotions to pass through unless it was necessary, like the brief brush of his regret and grief that simply backed up his words just yesterday. Jim didn't touch Spock often, but when he did, it was never just casual, and usually through his clothing rather than skin-to-skin – Jim read him disturbingly well, and always was there providing support to lean against, confidence in Spock, affection and trust. When other people managed to touch Spock – and even though they respected his feelings about being touched, it still happened – it made him feel unsettled and sometimes even ill.
Okay, so Jim was an exception – but for the love of Surak, why?
It was soft, as he probed into himself deeply, searching for answers. Friendship explained some of this, but he even disliked it when Nyota touched him, and she was also his friend. Granted, not as good of a friend as Jim was, but still a good friend.
It was so soft that he nearly missed it – and did, several times, probing deeper and deeper into his mind and then into his soul—his katra—with each brush of that whisper against his mind. When he was deeper than he had ever gone before, it finally came to him, a whispered, barely there, t'hy'la.
If Spock had been awake, he would have gasped. As it was, he delved deeper, and found the word echoing strongly into his mind. T'hy'la. Stronger than a friend, deeper than a brother, intensely beloved, and meant to be a lover.
Spock shot out of his mind, panting and bracing himself against the floor with the palms of his hands, his chocolate brown eyes wide and disbelieving. Not at the fact that he loved Jim – he had suspected as much when beginning this exercise, and had been seeking confirmation or denial of that being the case. But this took his breath away. T'hy'la. Spock held in his soul a bond so rare as to not have been seen in over two centuries. Spock had a soul-mate, an unshakeable, unbreakable bond, and that person he had bonded to was Jim. Of course. It made so much sense now – how easily forgiveness had been had, how rapidly they had truly become friends by more than circumstance, why Spock had not minded even the first touch that Jim had so confidently given him.
Spock licked his lips and stood up, walking over to his bed and sitting on the edge of it. Despite his abrupt departure from his meditation, his mind was smooth and calm – and humming with a contentment that could only have come about because Spock realised that Jim was his t'hy'la.
The question now was, what was he to do about this? Did Jim feel the same? He thought it was possible but… This needed more observation. He could not risk losing this friendship they had by making an unwanted advance towards Jim. So that was what he would do. Pay more attention to Jim – not like that would be difficult or unpleasant – and figure out the right time to bring this up. Being t'hy'la explained Selek's encouragement for him to accept this command, and also meant that it was beyond unlikely that these feelings would be unrequited for long, assuming they were even unrequited at all. But he had to wait until he knew for sure before bringing it up.
"Thank you, Spock." The clasp of a hand on his shoulder, radiating affection and gratitude. There was something… Ah! Missing! That was the anomaly he had been seeking out for the past week and been unable to quantify because Jim only ever touched him briefly, and then only in such a way as to back up his words with his emotions. Odd, how comforting that reassurance was. He did not care if other people were being honest or not unless it was a matter of business. Most species lied frequently, after all, and even Spock was not immune to telling slight untruths or lies of omission. Never, ever to Jim, but it had happened before in his life and would likely happen again. He cared very much that Jim was always honest with him regardless of the situation.
Before Jim could remove his hand, Spock clasped it briefly, getting a deeper reading of Jim's emotions, filtering through the flash of shock, pausing at the spike of gratified awe, and exploring the edges of that missing element. Jim was staring at him, and he raised his eyebrow, which made his Captain flush lightly (that was promising) and go back to his business, while Spock continued his own, examining the lingering emotions in the background.
By the end of Alpha shift, Spock was confident that he had the shape of that missing – suppressed, was more like it – emotion. Warmth, affection, and confidence. Jim knew the emotion he was suppressing, was comfortable experiencing it, and was only keeping it away so that he would not leak it to Spock.
Spock was grateful for that – he had come to the realisation of his feelings completely on his own, for the most part, and that was how it had needed to be for the sake of his accepting things. Now, however, it was unnecessary and unwanted. As he left the Bridge with Jim, he asked, "Would you like to play chess tonight, Captain?"
The smile he was gifted with made his heart stutter in his abdomen, and he allowed warmth into his eyes, almost-smiling back. "Of course! I'd love that, Spock. Until then, however, there's always more work to do. I've got to work on some reports after I eat."
That was acceptable. It gave him time to decide how he would broach the subject. He felt oddly calm about this, as if this were simply just meant to be and so did not matter in any negative way. Well, Spock was not going to argue with that; it was a good thing, something to be appreciated. "That sounds acceptable, Jim."
After an hour of meditation, Spock had decided that the best way to inform Jim of his feelings would simply be to show him in the form of a Vulcan kiss. They could talk about it later, if it even truly needed talked about, considering that Jim was Spock's t'hy'la, and Jim already likely knew that. They were meant to be together, and Spock suspected that there would be no real fuss about the situation.
Sighing and shaking his head lightly – something he would only ever do in private or around Jim; he was still not comfortable allowing anybody else to see his emotional state – he got up and walked over to his desk, bending to his work until his alarm went off. He had set it to go off at 1900 hours, and calmly turned it off before organising his desk – a nervous gesture that he immediately ceased, his desk was already organised enough. Then he inhaled slowly and entered the bathroom between their quarters before knocking on Jim's door. Unless one of them was not in their rooms, it was always how they began their games of chess, late night chats, and other various things. Highly convenient.
Jim opened the door immediately, running a hand through his hair and smiling widely at Spock. "Hey! Come on in."
Spock stepped into the room and took his usual seat as Jim sat across from him. He knew the how of things, now the question was when? Should he take his decided course of action – his nervousness was beginning to manifest much more strongly now, and thinking that he was planning on kissing Jim was something he could not do right now – sooner or later? Jim was surely curious; today had been the first time that Spock initiated any sort of skin-to-skin physical contact between them, and Spock knew without a doubt that he was intensely curious about it. But would he say anything?
Jim had finished setting up the game so Spock made his first move in silence. It could wait a bit.
After the game was approximately halfway over, Jim was losing very badly and Spock was winning with ridiculous ease considering how Jim usually was able to more than easily keep up with him at all times and even outmatch him nearly half of the times they played (Jim won forty eight point seventy two percent of their games together). Clearly something was on his mind, and he had been mulling it over. When Jim opened his mouth again, Spock knew almost down to each word what he was going to say. "Hey, Spock… I just wanted to… Well…"
He fell silent, and Spock watched him for only a moment before reaching out. This was the best time, while Jim was feeling tongue-tied and uncertain. He would reassure Jim and confess simultaneously.
So he brushed his index and middle fingers against Jim's; first once, then a second time, and finally a third time, so that Jim could not mistake it for accident. When Jim stared at him, mouth half open and wonder infusing his expression, he allowed himself a tiny smile, which just made Jim's eyes shine, before calmly stating, "The threads finally connected, t'hy'la, and I am aware of what you are to me and how much you mean to me. There is no need to hold back any longer, Jim."
The response was immediate as Jim gently grabbed Spock's hand and intertwined their fingers, and that missing, suppressed emotion was finally there, heat and adoration and love – unfathomably deep love – flowing through the touch and into Spock. He gasped at the feeling, before tightening his fingers intimately around Jim's and closing his eyes, basking in the simultaneously both foreign and familiar emotions.
When he opened his eyes, Jim was staring intently at him, and he lifted his left hand, fingers positioned for a meld as he asked, "May I, Jim?"
Jim mutely nodded as Spock asked to meld with him, absolutely refusing to let go for fear that this was a dream and would disappear if he even breathed heavily. It was simultaneously too much to believe and not enough to experience, so the opportunity to feel what Spock felt was one he snatched up with gratitude.
When cool fingers brushed his meld points, he leaned into the touch, before being flooded with Spock's mind. His mind was warm, bright, and curious, tasting its own experience, but Jim heard "t'hy'la" echoing through it, and through his own mind, before the most amazing thing he had ever felt washed over him and he immersed himself in it. Spock's love was so comforting, so impossibly deep, a strong current washing him away until nothing was left except for his love for Spock and Spock's love for him. That moment lasted an eternity and was over in a breath, and he could feel Spock's regret brushing against him as he commented "Would that we could stay here forever, t'hy'la, but we have responsibilities. Never forget that I love you with all that I am, Jim, my k'diwa."
My beloved. Oh God, Spock not only just flat out told Jim he loved him, he called him beloved.
When he returned to consciousness, Spock was watching him warmly, and Jim smiled the biggest smile he had ever given to anybody in his life. There were no words to express how amazing, wonderful, brilliant this was, how happy it made him, and he took in a shuddering breath, tears swarming his eyes before he could even register that the pervasive feeling of aloneness that had plagued him for his entire life was gone now because of the soft, tenuous bond that had settled into place during the meld. He wasn't alone, never alone any more. Spock was here, would be with him wherever they were, even when they were apart. He choked on his breath and Spock was there in an instant, brushing fingers through his hair as he tentatively embraced Jim.
Jim finally let go of his loneliness, escaping from that ache with sobs that tore through him, and Spock held him tighter as he cried out his relief. He would never be alone again.
When he finished crying, Spock was humming in the back of his mind, sending love and comfort to him through their gentle, soft, light bond as he pulled away. "Fuck, Spock. I love you so much, thank you so much, I can never…"
Spock brushed their fingers together in a kiss as he firmly stated, "I know, Jim. You are not alone any more, and never will be."
It was enough.