Warning: M/M kissing, some angst and an OC Spock. That is all.

Jim dreamt of a red sky with mountains far into the distance standing tall and proud trying, in vain, to reach out and touch the white clouds high above them. He dreamt himself sitting on top of a cliff, legs over the edge, and hands behind him holding his figure as he threw his head back with a sigh. The thin air made it hard to breathe, but not hard enough that the thought of leaving ever crossed his mind. He was home, why would he leave it? The thin air, hot weather and occasional windstorms was nothing as long as his beloved was happy. His T'hy'la.

That word, the very first word he had ever learned in Vulcan, the first word that Spock ever said to him in his native tongue, said with such passion and love, the word that encompassed everything and nothing at the same time; friend, brother, and lover. Everything and nothing of what he felt towards Spock. The Sherlock Holmes to his John Watson, the Joseph to his Mary, the … Spock to his Kirk. Spock completed him and that alone was indescribable. Not one word, not even such a word as T'hy'la, could describe what Jim felt every morning, waking up to Spock's dark eyes staring at him, trying to memorise every bit of him, with such admiration and love that it should be illegal. In fact, it probably was illegal on Vulcan.

It hardly mattered to the usually strict half-Vulcan whose lips would twitch a fraction of a second with a ghost of a smile before he managed to cool his features, completely serious as he leaned down to kiss Jim as he did every morning. One single kiss was hardly enough for Jim, not even a thousand kisses would be enough for him, and so they would end up under the covers, kissing deeply, hands roaming each others body trying to find new territory for which to explore until Spock gave up and decided 'fuck it, let's be late, again.' Or so Jim decided day after day as he pulled Spock down for a kiss to beat all kisses.

Sometimes late would mean ten minutes. Other times, when Spock was feeling particularly amorous, it could mean hours. Fortunately for Jim, Spock had been feeling amorous more and more often. Jim wouldn't complain, their shore leave (although not technically shore leave since they did have duties) would be over in a few days and Jim would rather spent whatever time they had left in Spock's arms rather than in meetings with stingy old Vulcans who hated when he spoke over them or called them on their bullshit.

Spock was having none of that today, however, and it saddened Jim that their last evening in New Vulcan would be spent in the company of two-hundred year old Vulcan dignitaries and council members in order to celebrate the successful acclimation of all remaining Vulcan's to the new planet. Although not the same, according to Spock, Vulcans did not dwell on the past and wished to 'put the event behind them' something that Spock Prime, or Selek, was teaching them.

He was still looking into the vastness in front of him when Spock came to stand by him. Jim closed his eyes briefly before turning to him, his eyes slowly travelling up the length of his legs and torso until their eyes met. No words were necessary; a flicker of regret in Spock's eyes was all Jim needed to see to know it was time to go. A hand reached down to help him up from his position on the ground. He smiled in thanks, grabbing on and allowing himself to be pulled upright. He didn't expect to end up in Spock's arms, his hot breathe against Jim's pulse as he words, "I'm sorry T'hy'la," left Spock's lips. Jim smiled, pulling back from the embrace in order to see Spock's face.

"Maybe we can deck out early and spend out last night here in pleasure rather than in boredom."

"Deck out?" Spock repeated, blinking as he tried to find the meaning of the word in his dictionary of a brain. "I do not understand."

"Leave early, Spock," Jim said, slightly amused. "It means leave early."

"I am open to such a suggestion should the dinner continue past the unacceptable hours."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"That was a yes, Jim."

"Exactly!" Jim exclaimed, one hand reaching to touch Spock's warn cheek before going inside to finish getting ready, yelling back towards Spock who was still standing in the same spot, as he put on his shoes. "You coming or what, Spock?"

When they arrived, Jim was stunned. In the few months that the Vulcan High Command had allowed (after confirming he was indeed who he said he was) Spock Prime – Selek, Jim reminded himself, he goes by Selek – to take over the Vulcan Reconstruction, the entire planet had mobilised. Crops were planted, houses built and roads created and, slowly, the planet became more and more homely and alive. Of course, it would never be able to replace Vulcan but, to an outsider like Jim, it came pretty close. To Vulcan's like Spock, and the few humans who lived amongst them, the planet was a cheap imitation of Vulcan. Their planet was gone, their old lives and history destroyed, their connection to the sacred planet severed and their homes obliterated. Nothing hurt more than seeing the destruction of something you love dearly.

Selek understood that and tried, not to simply replace the fallen monuments and architecture that once inhabited the planet, but start fresh and make better, much more durable, structures that could, should the need arise, protect all citizens from danger. There were subtle touches of Earth architecture along with Klingon engineering and of a few other species integrated into the building of the planet. Selek had knowledge of another timeline, of another time and place and he shared that knowledge with his weeping comrades and tried, in his own way, to make the pain ease by keeping them busy. The architecture he designed was new, innovative, beautifully breath-taking – much like Spock himself.

High ceilings with large arches leading to a glass dome at the centre of the new council chambers, overlooked the newly contrasted and decorated for a grand occasion, ballroom. The dome was made out of the strongest material known and very durable. The ballroom would, should there be a need, serve as a refuge and a landing pad for every Vulcan citizen. Selek, in cahoots with Scottie, had made it possible for the entire present population to be transported to a nearby planet where a new Star Base, at the request of Selek, was being built. They were being overly cautious according to Spock but he could see the hints of admiration and relief in his dark eyes.

One day, when Jim was already but a memory, Spock would become the great man they now waited in line to greet. One day, Spock would smile in public, joke and laugh. But one day, the sadness that Jim could see in Selek's eyes whenever they saw one another, would also be there. The sadness he now saw in Spock's eyes whenever his father mentioned his mother. The sadness that would be in his eyes long after Jim's death showing Spock's never-ending mourning of Jim, his partner.

The line they stood in, one for guests to greet their hosts, moved. A warm hand on Jim's lower back snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Hello, good friend," Selek greeted as they approached, giving a traditional Vulcan salute to Spock and a pat on the back to Jim. "How have you been? Enjoying your shore leave?"

"As can be expected," Spock replied neutrally. "Yourself?"

"Better now," Selek replied with a smile. He turned to Jim. "How about you, Jim? Enjoying the planet?"

"It's awesome, really hot, but awesome," Jim replied returning the smile. "You're doing a great job. They are lucky to have you."

"I'm keeping the council on their toes, as you would say." He leaned in conspiratorially and added, "They don't like taking orders from a half-Vulcan but I'm planning on changing that too."

"You show 'em," Jim cheered softly.

"Indeed," Spock – both of them – said in unison.

Jim had never felt more at home than with present Spock and future Spock. Boy, was he one lucky son-of-a-bitch or what?

Spock snapped out of his deep meditation with a start. Something was wrong. He felt happy, content, safe but most of all, loved. The emotions hit him like a tidal wave, one after another leaving him gasping for air. He stood up, trying in vain to supress the multitude of sensations that just kept coming at him.

"Jim," he whispered hoarsely. It had to be Jim, the connection was there growing the longer they were apart, changing and adapting to the distance. It wasn't he who was feeling these emotions, it was Jim and, via the connection, Spock was feeling what Jim was feeling and it hurt.

Vulcan's trained themselves to supress emotions for a reason, but what if the bond mate couldn't? What if, because he was connected to a human, Spock was now able to feel and therefor revert back to the ways of his Vulcan ancestors, violent and bloodthirsty? Impossible, he reasoned. The bond wouldn't have created itself if they were not compatible, whether the circumstances were forced or not. A bond didn't just forge itself out of nothing; the connection had to already be there, it just solidified it and made it more obvious, bringing with it other needs and emotions to sustain it. This was one of them, the sharing of emotions, which, like it or not, Spock would have to get used to. Unless the bond was broken which would cause much more pain than this, much more than when he felt the bond between he and his mother be shattered or the spiritual connection that was ripped away from him as his planet collapsed in on itself.

It would be worse because he already cared for Jim and being this close, the intimacy he had so desired a few days ago, would be severed and he would, once more, be alone.

But it had to be severed, if not for his sake then for Jim's. He had made it very clear that he did not share Spock's sentiments. How would he react to being unwillingly bonded to him? Would he be disgusted? Or would he finally see how Spock truly felt and realise that he felt the same way? Spock shook his head. He was thinking like a human, of emotions, which only half of him truly felt. His Vulcan side reasoned that, the bond was created and should be dealt with. Such bonds, naturally made without a healer, were rare, even if it was an accident. A rare enough creation like this one trumped all other thing.

Should Jim decide to sever it, however, Spock would oblige. He did not want to 'tie' Jim down, forcing him to take part of a bond that, essentially, opened their minds up to one another, taking away the privacy that Jim had always been careful to keep around him. He did not want to do anything that Jim might be adverse to. But for now all that mattered was getting to Jim.

After changing, Spock headed to Sick Bay as calmly as he could, trying to contain the emotions he felt and supress them to the best of his abilities, which were many. He was doing fine for a while but the closer he got to Sick Bay - and therefore, Jim - the more happy, safe, love he felt and the more it hurt. These emotions were too strong and came at him too fast with no time for him to adjust between one when another hit. By the time he reached Sick Bay, his fists were clenched at his side, and his short nails biting at his palm from the grip. He walked inside, not bothering to greet Nurse Chapel as he did, and went straight for Jim's room.

The doors slid open soundlessly and he took a single step inside, took a deep breath and nearly fell to the ground. Jim was happy and he wasn't the one to give him that happiness. Jim felt save and Spock wasn't able to provide that secure feeling. Jim was loved and it wasn't he who could love him. A sharp pain in his chest, made him gasp for air, his hands reaching for his face as he shield his face. He felt so vulnerable, so alone but for completely different reasons.

Jim was within reach, his sleeping form on his side tucked under a single white cover. There was enough room on the bio-bed for another person and Spock was tempted to get into bed beside the man and share the dream Jim was having. If they touched, the connection would be doubled and he might be able to, should he mind meld, share the dream and look into what was making Jim feel so many wonderful emotions. It wouldn't be wrong… they were already connected and he would simply be making sure that Jim wasn't in danger; he had been in a coma only a few hours ago and it made sense that Spock would be worried for the safety and health of his Captain. Except that didn't quite make sense, the rational part of him said. This isn't you.

He didn't listen to that part of him, however. All he needed to do know was get up, disengage his hands from his face and take a few steps over. He did so without a second thought, his Vulcan half protesting loudly in his mind. The few steps he took were enough for more emotions to pass through the bond making him stagger a bit. He shook his head, intent on getting into bed with Jim and finding out what he was dreaming about and why he was feeling the emotions that now passed between their bond. He pulled a corner of the covers off, watching Jim's face for any signs of him being awake. Finding none, he slipped inside the covers, rapping himself in much the same manner as Jim. But now he was at a loss of what to do. He would have to touch Jim in order to mind meld - unless he could gain access via the bond.

He closed his eyes, putting his hands together and using them as centres to concentrate his breathing on. In and out, in and out his breathing went until all outside noises (including Jim's light snoring beside him) were drawn out and he was in silence. The emotional turmoil he felt was still present, he could still taste the emotions of his tongue, but, being this close to Jim, so close to the source, made it easier to silence it now that he had gotten partly used to it. Once this was over, he would need to purge. The overlapping of emotions would remain within him unless he didn't purge or created a strong enough mental block to seal them all in. A mental block that would never be strong enough if he was near Jim, if he remained as Jim's First Officer - the choice was clear, it seemed.

He put the thought aside and concentrated on feeling Jim, feeling his essence, his being, and his very soul without touching him. The bond created a bridge and now he had to gather the strength to actually cross it. He took a deep breath and took a step onto the bridge. And another. And another…

Leonard McCoy was not a man of gesture. He liked things to be said and done straight up as they were, no bullshit. Spock and Jim were bullshitting, circling around and crashing into each other without the slightest idea that they were doing it. Jim obviously cared about Spock and vice versa if the information he'd gotten was correct. All these two knuckleheads needed now was a little push. Well, maybe a giant push but not so big as Ziggy's. The alien had completely done everything in his power, or so he said but Leonard had a suspicion that he just didn't want to involve himself anymore not after what happened to Jim, and had resulted in a whole lot of nothing. But Leonard was subtler; he was a country boy after all. Subtly was his specialty.

Now all he had to do was get them in the same room and-

He entered Jim's room in Sick Bay, too busy thinking to notice someone else was in the room with Jim. Spock was by his side; or rather Jim was plastered to Spock's back, arms wrapped around him as if he was a fluffy teddy bear who scared away the bad dreams. Even with the lights down low, he could see a smile on Jim's face and, well, the same look Spock always had really, maybe a bit more relaxed. They were asleep, the monitor overhead confirmed what Leonard could see - the slow rising of chests, the slight snoring coming from Jim and a purring-like sound coming from Spock. Huh, he thought, I didn't know Vulcan's purred.

The doctor remained quiet; looking up at the monitor above the bio-bed to make sure everything was normal. It was and now it was time to leave, who knows what the two might do in their sleep especially when one of them is a touch telepath. Wait, he thought, Spock is a touch telepath, what in the hell is he doing-

His thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by a moan coming from the bed. He closed his eyes and shook his head. What luck he had indeed, coming in at the exact moment when one – or both – of them was having a wet dream, it must be his lucky day. Except that the moaning turned into whimpering and thrashing in the bed. Spock pulled away from Jim's grip, thrashing and howling in bed, head thrown back and body thrust upwards, his toes outside of the rage of the cover, curled in pain. Leonard ran to Spock's side, taking out his tricorder and checking his life signs. He was fine according to the machine and yet he was thrashing, crying out in pain and gripping the fabric of the bed tightly as if his life depended on it. What in the hell is going on?

Spock doesn't understand and he doesn't like the feeling. He managed to enter Jim's subconscious, entering Jim's dream world by default, with little to no hassle. But now he was at a loss. Jim was sitting by his side, they were inside an old Terran car and yet, were he to look outside, he would see a red sky, large peeking mountains on the horizon and electric sands storms looming in the far reaches of the dessert-like place they were in. He got the feeling that Jim had never been to Vulcan properly, not enough to enjoy it's true riches. This was almost a cheap imitation of the planet. No, Spock thought, it's what most human's think Vulcan looks – looked – like. The air wasn't thin enough (though it was a dream); the colour was off by a few shades and the sky was-

"Stop it," Jim whispered next to him, one hand on Spock's knee. "You're thinking too much." Spock blinked and remained quiet. How odd, he thought, turning to stare out into the landscape. But the hand, squeezing gently down on his knee, had him turning back to Jim. "If you didn't want to go home, you could have said so. I thought you gave me the signal but …" He hesitated, looking at Spock intently before continuing, his voice lower and vulnerable. "Did I do something wrong? I know I was a bit childish this morning, but I thought we'd made up. I thought we were okay now."

"Captain I-"

The hand moved away. Jim sighed, biting down on his lip as he looked away. "You are mad."

"I am not mad, Jim."

"You sound like it," Jim murmured back. "It was stupid and it'll never happen again, okay? I apologised, you apologised, and I thought we were fine. I thought we-"

"I forgive you, Jim." Spock interrupted, not sure what Jim was talking about. "Have I given indication otherwise?"

Jim was silent for a moment, looking down at his hands. Spock reached over, hesitantly. Jim would credit the touch not to Spock, but to his dream version. Jim blinked, then stared up at Spock. His eyes narrowed for one moment but he shook his head and smiled. "Okay. Fine. I liked the dinner. It was nice to see the improvement. The colony has been making loads of progress; Selek is a good leader. He's amusing enough - for a Vulcan, I mean. Didn't you think so?"

"It was," - Spock scrambled for the correct word – "acceptable."

The remainder of the ride was in silence, the driver in front of them was listening to some tune in the old style radio and nothing else but the tyres hitting the ground outside was heard. Spock wondered what this dream was about, why would Jim create a world where they were together if he did not wish to be together in the real world? It was illogical to create a relationship, one as deep as this one felt, in dreams and not want to pursue the same relationship with the same person in reality. Perhaps if he continued to play the part, he could learn what sort of relationship they had and then try to imitate it once Jim was awake.

They arrived home within minutes, hands still intertwined. Jim was smiling wide, all his thoughts concentrating on what he would do to Spock once they were home. He had promised the Vulcan pleasure and the one thing Spock was stricter about than regulations were promises. He did not want to a repeat of last year when Jim had promised to get the science department new equipment and then forgot and given engineering the funds instead. He had gotten one giant lecture that left his brain sore for a week. It did have one upside; an angry Spock made the best lover. He was sore for a day or two after that as well. If he balanced out the pros and cons, the cons weren't so bad really. In this case, however, the pro was already on the table so why anger the man and prolong it.

Getting out of the car, Jim lead the way to their home, their hands breaking apart as he keyed in the unlock code. Spock stood off to the side, admiring the incredible detail that the dream had. The house was large, carved into the stone of a mountain pass, with large windows overlooking the desert plain at the bottom. The detail was very intricate, not something that Jim had dreamt up one night – no, this was a dream he built and added to constantly. A dream he made himself dream, or perhaps his consciousness made him dream.

Jim seemed happy, in this pretend relationship he had with his version of Spock. They had a fight earlier in the dream, Spock wasn't sure if that was what he had felt or if it was from the event they were coming from. Spock followed Jim inside, looking around and not paying attention to where he was going or where Jim was leading him to until Jim turned around with a smirk and pushed him gently against the wall. Fascinating, he thought as Jim began to lean towards him. Their lips were quite close when Spock found himself leaning back on the wall and away from Jim.

"Playing hard to get, are we?" Jim whispered. "I can deal with that. Maybe you want to play a bit too…"

Jim was kissing him before Spock could even try to understand what he had meant. Soft, light lips pressed against his, the urgency in his words not showing in the way Jim kissed him. Spock closed his eyes and allowed his body to take over for the first time in his life. He had wanted this for such a long time, to kiss Jim – the real Jim, dream version or otherwise – for such a long time. He had wanted to be kissed by Jim for even longer than he wished to admit it. And all it took was entering Jim's dream uninvited for it to come true.

His hands rested on Jim's slim waist, taking it as a starting point to begin undressing him. A wet tongue traced the length of his lip and he obliged the request for entrance, opening his mouth and letting his head be tilted to the side for a deeper kiss. He moaned loudly when Jim's hand touched his face, his finger gently making circle on his sensitive skin. With every touch his skin became hot, and the more he did, the more arousal he felt spread through him.

This was a dream, he reasoned as he pulled Jim's shirt off, breaking apart from the kiss for a moment, I don't have to be the Vulcan I am in real life. I can be anyone Jim needs me to be. Someone he can love – someone he does love.

Fingers trailed Jim's body, settling back on his hips. Spock hesitated, not sure if it was the correct moment to reach for the buttons of Jim's trousers. He didn't know the procedure; he was playing 'by ear' as Jim would say. When he had had intercourse with Ziggy, everything had happened so fast and hurriedly, he had merely followed the actions the alien – who he then thought was Jim – had taken. But Jim was just kissing him, his tongue exploring Spock's, hands on his face. He was at a bit of a loss as to what to do, his brain taking control once more and alarmed blaring loudly in his ears.

Thankfully, Jim pulled away, smiling happily. Spock tried to smile back but couldn't quite get it. It didn't seem to bother Jim who reached for the hem of Spock's shirt and pulled it off as if he had done it a million times before. Lips pressed themselves to Spock's neck, planting kisses along the pale flesh and down his collarbone. He moaned as a tongue gently tracing the length of is ear, slipping the end between his teeth whilst his hand made a surprise trip to the front of Spock's trousers, palming him through his pants.

"J-Jim…" Spock moaned out. "Jim…"

Jim got down on his knees. He needed Spock more than anything right now; he ached for him more than ever. Sure, the car ride had been awkward but goddamit was Spock's anger arousing, something was clearly wrong with him but now was not the time to worry about it. Spock remained against the wall, head thrown back and eyes closed tightly. His hands were at his side but Jim had another place where they could go. He looked up at Spock confused and asked, "Are you okay?"

Spock nodded his head in response, his head banging against the wall as he did. Jim leaned back on his toes, not convinced, looking at Spock with worry. Usually he was more... responsive. By now his hands would be in Jim's hair, pushing him towards Spock's obviously erect center. But tonight, although aroused, as always, he seemed reluctant to engage, almost scared. As if this was their first time, well, first time after Ziggy. But that was crazy. They had been together for a while now so it couldn't be that.

"Jim?" Spock asked overhead. "Why have you stopped?"

"I-I thought you didn't want to do this," Jim admitted. "You don't seem into it all that much."

Spock extended his hand to Jim, pulling him upwards. Their eyes met for a moment, a tantalizing moment where Jim felt his heart was about to give out from the love he saw within those dark Vulcan eyes. Spock leaned down and pressed a small chaste kiss against Jim's lips and whispered, "Why don't you want this with me? Am I really that terrible outside this dream world?"

"What are you - "

Spock snapped out of the mind-meld with a yell, throwing Jim to the side. He sat up in bed, legs over the side, and breathed in slowly. Doctor McCoy was there, holding a glass of water for him to drink. He didn't ask any questions, the good doctor, and Spock didn't provide any answers. He took the cup, drank the liquid and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. His breathing was better now but his mind was still racing. The dream had been so … vivid. If that's how humans dreamt then he didn't want to dream.

He didn't notice Jim had also awoken, probably from being tossed aside as Spock severed the connection between them. Doctor McCoy rounded the bed, a cup in his hand, to check on Jim. Spock stood up from the bed, explaining why they were in the same bed would be hard enough but if Jim were to figure out-

"H-how long?" Jim asked roughly. Spock stopped moving, stopped breathing, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He knew. Of course he did. He might portray to be a buffoon but James T Kirk was anything but. He remained quiet however, a very bad move considering Jim's next words. "I'm not stupid, Spock. I know you were there. How. Long."

Spock gulped. He squared his shoulders, his face on neutral and turned to answer Jim. "Since the car, Captain." He didn't look at Jim, preferring to look straight ahead at a stunned and confused McCoy whose mouth was open and eyes moving from Jim to him. "How did you know?"

Jim hesitated for a second, looking at Spock with a look of anger that bordered on murder. "You – he - more… human."

"More loving, you mean?" Spock asked before he could stop himself. He would have to meditate and figure out why words were slipping from his mouth without consent. "He is me in every aspect but that. I can be loving, Jim. I can be everything you want me to be. You are the one that didn't want to hear it, remember? Not me."

"Angry, are we?" Jim hissed getting up from the bed, ignoring Doctor McCoy's small protests. He rounded the bed weakly until he was able to push Spock to face him. Spock, reluctantly, looked at Jim. "How the hell am I supposed to know how you really feel about me when you can't feel?"

Spock blinked, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion. It took him a moment before he replied, his voice softer than he could have thought was possible, "I feel more than you know, Jim."

He walked away, brushing past Jim and ignoring when he heard a gasp escape Jim's mouth. He heard McCoy rushing to Jim's side but he ignored that as he left the room, then Sick Bay, heading to his quarters. Jim knew nothing and yet he thought he knew everything. This dream had confirmed his feelings for Spock and now that he knew they were there, Spock would do anything in his power to make Jim admit to them. Perhaps his elder self would have some advise in the matter. He had, a long time ago, dealt with the same thing he was currently dealing with. Hopefully, he had figured out what he was missing.

But first he had to meditate and rest. He had first shift in a few hours and he would need a clear mind in order to work with Jim in such close quarters now that he knew his feelings were returned. Spock couldn't recall a day when he wasn't feeling something towards Jim and he wouldn't have it any other way.