This is a short chapter I know. I'm sorry. It's also a filler chapter... Mehh. So anyways. I got this new job that allows me some time to write! So I will hopefully be updating this more often! Which I keep saying and lying about but I really promise that I am trying!

Mistakes are mine. But you knew that.

What a fucking idiot. That was the only thing that had been running through his head for several hours now. What he had said made his stomach churn every time his sadistic mind replayed it.

He hadn't meant it. Not a single word. His mouth just ran away with him, his emotions fueling what is was spewing.

God he was an idiot. How in the world was he supposed to apologize to Spock? Was there any acceptable way to apologize for a fuck up as big as this one? He could explain to his husband that at that moment every feeling he had been fighting since they found his father came flooding out in tidal waves, Jim powerless to stop it, but even that didn't seem like a good enough reason to become a xenophobic crybaby. And sure some might understand and even excuse his behavior because of the stress and circumstance he was in but, Jim wouldn't and he doubted Spock would.

Sighing, Jim pulled his feet up and tucked his knees tight against his chest. He was currently sitting by his father's bedside, watching his chest rise and fall from his steady, rhythmic breathing.

Bones had physically dragged him from the mess hall and stuffed him full of anti-anxiety medication. It had taken a bit to kick in and for Jim to finally feel calm again. Unfortunately it left him with a clear enough head to realize just what exactly he had done.

The moment it had hit him be broke down into sobs, curling up in the chair next to his sedated father, while Bones respectfully and quietly slipped from the room to let Jim with his privacy.

Now hours later with dried out tear ducts, a cold sandwich at his elbow and a massive headache, Jim contemplated whether or not he would be allowed back in his quarters, and if Spock would even be there.

Jim tensed as George shifted in bed. He grumbled quietly before his face scrunched up and his eyes opened reluctantly. Jim stayed still and silent while his dad reoriented himself to his surroundings.

"Jim?" George looked to his son.

"H-hey" Jim rasped. His throat raw from his previous screaming fit and sob feast.

George looked at his son curiously, causing Jim to fidget in his seat. "I would be relieved that I hadn't just dreamed you and all this up but you look terrible so I'm leaning more towards concerned. What's wrong, bud?"

Bud? Bud? Jim immediately broke down in tears again. No one had ever called him Bud before. It was one of those things that all the other kids his age had taken for granted while Jim yearned for his father. His father who would be the one to be there patting his back telling him 'Good job, pal!' or noticing before anyone else that he was upset and asking 'What's going on, bud?' ruffling his hair and making everything better with a smile and a 'I'll always be proud of you. You're my son and I love you.'

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey," George stammered, "Come here." He lifted the blankets back gesturing for Jim to join him. Which he did. Curling into his father with his head on his chest and his nose buried in his shirt.

"Dad, I screwed up." Jim whimpered.

"How? What happened?"

"I-I…" I think I ruined my marriage and hurt the one person that matters the most. It was right on his tongue. A simple confession, something he assumed he could easily confide in his father with, but something was holding him back.

Why did he feel like he couldn't tell the other man about what he had done? It was a stupid, stupid, horrible thing to do he knew, but for someone reason there was something about it that he just couldn't admit to his father. "I did something really stupid dad."

"Well are you going to be more specific or am I going to have to guess?" George asked as he ran his hand up and down his sons back.

"I c-can't tell you." Jim whispered. "I don't know why, but I can't."

"Okay, okay." George sighed. "You don't have to talk about it right now. It's okay, Jimmy."

They stayed quiet for another half an hour. Sitting comfortably in each other's arms. Having their first private father-son moment. Jim enjoyed just being with his dad. Hearing his heart beat, smelling his scent. He somehow smelled like fresh rain and pine needles. "How are you feeling?"

George hummed in response, shifting slightly on the bed. "Like I've got an overgrown kid laying on top of me making my leg go numb." Jim chuckled as he lifted himself out of the bed and back into his previously vacated seat.

"You didn't have to go all the way over there, kid," George teased. "You were actually keeping me warm."

Jim grinned, ducking his head. "You were keeping me warm too, dad."

Nyota bit her lip nervously as she hit the chime to captain's quarters. She wasn't positive she would find him there but he wasn't anywhere else on the ship and he had conveniently changed the computer's ability to find his location. "Spock?" She called out after a few minutes of no reply. "Come on, Spock, please talk to me."

She was really worried about Spock, and still in shock about what her captain had said. She knew that Jim didn't actually mean a word he had said but she was afraid Spock didn't. Not saying that Spock didn't have any right to be angry with Jim, furious really, but she felt like she had to at least make sure that he understood that none of those words her captain had spoken before were something Jim actually believed ad felt.

Jim loved Spock. Lives, breathes, and literally died for Spock. Anyone with eyes could see it. They were made for each other. They had a love most people dream about, but never get. They had what she wanted, what she hoped she was finding right now herself with a certain Scotsman.

It would be devastating not only for them, but for the entire crew as well if this is the end of Kirk and Spock. Everyone on the ship loved individually, but they adored them together.

About to give in and leave Nyota was startled when the door in front of her suddenly opened. Her commanding officer and best friend in the doorway looking as if in that moment if he were human he would burst into tears and cry. "Hello, Nyota." He greeted, his voice breaking on the last syllable of her name.

"Oh, honey." She whispered before throwing her arms around his shoulders.