Work Text:
It starts before they beam down.
Jim notices the tension in Spock from the moment that he mentions visiting his family. They are lying together on Spock’s bed, the lights dimmed and the room Vulcan-warm. Jim has forgone his shirt, as he often does, and he’s leaning against Spock’s shoulder as he reads through some of the daily reports on his padd. Spock has finished his own work for the day but he seems content to lie here with Jim in peaceful silence, his thumb tracing a pattern on the back of Jim’s neck in a movement that Jim would call idle if it came from anyone but Spock.
Jim knows that he is about to speak from the way his thumb slows, then stops.
“My mother contacted me. She has requested that I visit them for four days of shore leave.”
He sounds unaffected, but he’s not fully at ease. Jim can sense it through their bond, like a distant echo of his own feelings. It takes him a moment to realise that it’s coming from Spock.
He doesn’t comment on it, keeping his eyes on the padd. He doubts, very much, that Spock meant to let that trickle through.
“It will be nice for your mother to see you,” he says diplomatically.
“She will be pleased.”
Jim turns his head to glance at him. Spock is looking up at the ceiling, expressionless. Nobody would know from looking at him that there is anything wrong at all, but Jim is not nobody.
He has to tread carefully. The relationship between Spock and Sarek is difficult to navigate at the best of times. “And your father?”
“Mother tells me that he finds the idea agreeable,” Spock says, dubiously.
Jim relaxes slightly. Agreeable is better than he expected.
“Sounds like it will be a good opportunity for you to catch up with them,” he says. He takes care to keep his voice light and his shields firm – not blocking Spock, exactly, but not letting him sense any trepidation on Jim’s part either. He sets his padd down and shifts around to face Spock properly. “I don’t need to tell you that you’ve accumulated enough shore leave to take the entire month, if you want to.” His mouth quirks into a wry smile. “Probably the entire year, actually, but the ship might fall apart without you.”
Spock is silent for a beat. Then he says, stiffly, “There will be – other social duties, aside from visiting my own parents. Traditionally, my mate would be expected to accompany me.”
Jim blinks at him, genuinely surprised. “You want me to come with you?”
The unease increases, a subtle but noticeable change.
“It is tradition,” says Spock.
It’s not exactly a yes, Jim notices. He puts it down to stiff-lipped Vulcan awkwardness, for now.
-
‘Agreeable’, for Sarek, turns out to be a blessing; he’s almost pleasant when Jim beams down with Spock. He greets Spock with a calm, “My son,” and inclines his head to Jim in acknowledgement.
Amanda, naturally, is all over Spock at the first chance she gets. Jim can’t help but smile at the sight of Spock’s stoic endurance in the face of his mother’s fussing.
He is immediately pulled into a hug the second she lets go of Spock.
“As handsome as ever,” she tells him. The twinkle in her eye is familiar, for all the differences of the face it is set in. She shoots Spock a look. “You’d better be treating him well, son of mine.”
“He has his moments,” Jim replies, grinning at Spock’s long-suffering expression. “It’s good to see you again, Amanda.” He means it; by the warmth in Amanda’s eyes, she knows.
Spock falls into step beside him as they follow his parents back to their home. Sarek seems content to sit in amiable silence, on the walk and in the aircar, whilst Amanda points out sights and places that could be interesting for Jim to visit, and that she clearly hopes will inspire some sense of nostalgia in her son.
Spock leaves a few inches between himself and Jim when they sit down in the aircar, and when they exit at the family home there’s a wider distance between them than there usually would be. It seems deliberate, though Jim doesn’t recall anything about avoiding physical touch in the (many) Vulcan textbooks he’s read up on, since they bonded (who is he kidding, he read them long before that, when he hoped, but he wasn’t sure, but still, he hoped…)
He's not complaining, anyway. He’s hot enough in Vulcan’s sweltering temperatures without pressing close to his walking furnace of a bondmate.
At Amanda’s insistence, Jim is treated to a tour of the family home. He loves seeing the place that Spock grew up and it ends far too swiftly when the Vulcans pointedly walk away into the dining room, apparently unable to bear any more of Amanda’s affectionate anecdotes on Spock’s childhood.
She scoffs when Spock follows his father out of the room, turning exasperated but amused eyes on Jim.
“Vulcans,” she says. It sounds like a curse.
Jim grins.
-
In the evening there is to be a drinks reception with a number of Sarek’s associates.
They are, Jim understands, high-profile members of society, as is befitting of Sarek’s – and Spock’s – position. He has braved enough wining and dining through Starfleet to nod along bracingly as Sarek informs them of this plan, but events like this have long since occupied the middle ground of his own personal list of hell.
Spock knows this. He doesn’t look the least bit surprised when Jim plucks at the fabric of his formalwear and grimaces at himself in the mirror as they get ready.
“At least it’s not the dress uniform, that gold collar itches – ”
“You have said so,” says Spock, “approximately sixty-three times since our first meeting.”
Jim snorts. “Approximately.” He tugs at the shoulders of the deep green robe he’s wearing, self-conscious. He’s never been shy about his appearance, but there’s something about being surrounded by all these tall stately Vulcans that makes him feel – less, somehow. Not Spock, not even Sarek; but many of the others, certainly.
“My mother was correct,” Spock says quietly. “Your looks are aesthetically pleasing and frequently draw attention from those around you, human or otherwise.”
“As long as it’s good attention,” Jim grumbles, but he does summon a smile. “Thank you.” He steps towards the door. “Shall we?”
Spock lays a hand on his arm. “Jim.”
Jim looks up at him, waiting. Spock stands rigidly still, one hand still grasping Jim’s arm. He doesn’t speak for one long moment.
Jim glances at Spock’s hand, then back at his bondmate’s face. “Spock? What’s up?”
“Jim,” Spock says again. Unusual; he’s not one to waste words or delay unnecessarily. He looks, Jim thinks, like he’s trying to choose his words very carefully.
Jim is just starting to get concerned when Spock finds the words he’s looking for.
“You recall the lessons I have provided with regards to shielding?”
It’s so basic, so expected, that Jim almost laughs. “Of course.”
“You recall all of them?”
“Yes, Spock,” Jim says patiently. “I recall all of them.”
Spock’s eyes are intense on his own. “It is important that you adhere to them.”
“I will.” He can’t help but feel slightly irritated, and shrugs his shoulder to dislodge Spock’s grip. “I’m not an idiot, Spock.”
There is a tiny crease between Spock’s brows. It’s barely anything, but Jim recognises it as genuine confusion. “I did not say you are anything of the sort.”
Jim sighs. “I know. It’s just – it feels patronising. Of course I’m going to shield as you’ve instructed me when I’m in a room full of Vulcans. Surely you know that.”
“I made the enquiry to be certain in my knowledge,” Spock says, but he does at least drop the issue after that.
Spock leads the way into the reception and Jim summons the unruffled, bland persona he puts on when dragged to Starfleet award ceremonies and the like. It’s probably good that he’s had practice in smiling and nodding through difficult interactions with displeased Admirals; most of the Vulcans present have the same way of looking at him like he’s a particularly unruly dog that just urinated on their shoes.
He sends this thought to Spock, privately, hoping for a flash of the amusement that Spock often feels but rarely shows. Spock ignores him, but Jim isn’t too sure whether it’s because he disapproves of the sentiment or because he’s deep in conversation with somebody about the nature of warp physics.
The evening passes slowly, but it passes. Jim doesn’t drink much, well aware that the Vulcan brandy he’s sipping on could probably have him snoring under a table after a couple of glasses.
Some of the Vulcans are clearly making a point of avoiding him, but he’s perfectly happy to avoid them too. He spends most of his time talking to the Vulcans who approach him curiously, keen to learn more about the stranger in their midst. They ask him questions about the Enterprise and about growing up on Earth and Jim is surprised to find that he’s almost enjoying himself as he answers.
Still, when Sarek retires to his study and Amanda sees the last guest out, Jim is aware of his own relief. It’s tiring, being on display, on his best behaviour; it’s hard enough among humans, but maintaining shielding on top of everything else is particularly tiring.
He and Spock are alone, at last; his bondmate stands by the window, looking out across the garden filled with Vulcan herbs and the few Earth plants that can withstand the heat.
He looks pensive, and handsome. The sight of him makes Jim smile to himself. He draws closer, letting his shields lower and allowing some of his affection for Spock to seep out.
Spock turns to him instantly, moving so fast that Jim almost jumps. “Do not.”
“I – sorry.” Wrongfooted, it takes Jim a moment to recover his shields. Spock’s face is expressionless but his eyes seem hard, and although the process is entirely mental it makes Jim feel like he is visibly fumbling.
He also feels like he needs to explain himself, with Spock’s gaze boring into him like that. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “They were gone, so I thought I could - ”
“It is – crass,” says Spock.
Jim blinks. If his shields were not up, Spock would surely have felt the frisson of hurt through their bond.
The hurt is quickly chased up by offense, which is easier to deal with.
“Crass?” he repeats, heat creeping into his tone. “I was only – ”
“It does not matter,” Spock interrupts. “We will retire now.”
That stings too, the assumed order. Jim tries to wrestle it down. He is not here as captain, he is here as Spock’s bondmate. Spock had a difficult childhood, Jim knows this, caught between human and Vulcan. It is not easy for him to be here. Jim has to make allowances for this.
He takes a deep breath. Spock didn’t mean anything by it, he tells himself. It’s just stress, made worse by the fact that he can’t admit that he’s stressed.
He follows Spock back to their room and doesn’t mention it again.
-
The next day, they visit a new exhibition at a nearby museum dedicated to Vulcan’s space exploration. Amanda tells Jim that Spock frequented this museum as a child and Jim smiles at the thought of a young Spock, already transfixed by the stars.
Many Vulcans approach Spock whilst they are out and Jim thinks of what T’Pring said, all those months ago. Much known, she had called him. Almost a legend.
Definitely a legend, Jim thinks, watching his bondmate greet admirer after admirer – because that’s what these Vulcans are, even if they’re hiding it behind shields and impassive faces. They tell Spock that his various papers and reports have provided much to consider, but really it all adds up to the same thing. They are impressed with Spock. They seek him out. They want to be in his company.
Spock isn’t particularly enjoying the attention, stiff and awkward in response to their approaches, but Jim doesn’t feel too bad about enjoying it on his behalf. It’s good to see his bondmate get the recognition he deserves.
Their attention is fixed so thoroughly on Spock that Jim manages to evade notice for the most part. He spends some time wandering round the exhibits. Their information is very detailed, naturally, and precise down to the last decimal point. Scotty would love it here.
He doesn’t realise that he’s being watched until he hears a couple of voices nearby.
They’re young, the Vulcans, barely older than teens by Earth standards. They aren’t that far away from Jim but they are obviously assuming that his human ears won’t be able to pick up their conversation.
“ – reported himself bonded. Spock did not even tell his father beforehand.”
“He cannot have expected judgement. His father did the same.”
“A madness in the family, according to T’Sau. Still – ” The young Vulcans are not as practised as their elders at sounding supremely calm and unaffected. This one sounds almost sly as he continues. “If rumour is to be believed, there is a reason that Spock may have followed in his father’s footsteps in choosing to bond a human.”
“What reason, cousin?”
“Humans do not experience a mating cycle. They are – ready, at all times.”
Disbelief from the companion. “Ready?”
“Easily aroused. They engage in sexual relations freely. Regularly.”
They are looking at him. Jim pretends he does not notice, keeping his eyes fixed on the holo-panel before him, though he can feel a flush rising up his neck.
That same sly voice: “Commander Spock is half-human himself. I believe it is not unreasonable to suggest that he has selected a human for purposes more related to bedding than bonding.”
Their conversation continues. Jim tries to block it out and focus on the words in front of him, but it’s too difficult to concentrate.
Is that a commonly-held belief? Is that what the Vulcans who avoided him last night at Sarek’s drinks reception believed, too?
Jim has heard some of the rumours that circulate about him – Captain Kirk with a lover at every space port. Spock has never believed the rumours, he knows that, even since before their relationship turned from friendship into something else. That should be the only thing that matters.
Still. It rankles.
He doesn’t turn around and give the young Vulcans a piece of his mind, though he’s sorely tempted. It’s only for Spock’s sake that he doesn’t cause a scene.
When Spock returns to his side, Jim tries to project a casual, carefree calm. It doesn’t work; Spock, of course, sees through him right away.
“Something ails you, ashayam?” It’s just the two of them, and the soft endearment in a private moment makes Jim relax a bit.
Jim shakes his head. “Just tired. Are we heading back to your parents’ now?”
He should probably tell Spock. They don’t keep secrets from each other – it was hard enough before, but near impossible with a bond like theirs. Spock doesn’t look like he fully believes him, his dark eyes roving Jim’s face, but he acquiesces at Jim’s attempts to leave.
-
There is to be another social gathering the following evening, a meal at some distant cousin of Sarek’s. It sounds as dull as the first, but Jim valiantly smiles through Sarek’s bland description of the event and hopes Spock can’t pick up on the fact that he’s inwardly cursing.
When Spock disappears upstairs to get ready, Amanda draws Jim to one side.
“The conversation will send you to sleep if you’re not careful,” she whispers, her eyes twinkling in that same familiar way, like Spock’s do when he’s pretending not to understand a joke, “but the food is usually good. I recommend the kas-elakh leaves, if they have them.”
Upstairs, Spock is running a comb through hair that is already perfectly in place. Jim watches him in the mirror for a few moments, taken by a rush of fondness, though he keeps it to himself. He’s been keeping up a basic shield on his emotions even in their rooms since Spock’s reprimand on the first night – Spock told him that he didn’t need to, not up here where they truly are alone, but Jim sensed that he was relieved by Jim’s choice to maintain the shield all the same.
Spock doesn’t need access to his side of the bond to recognise the fond look on his face, though. He quirks an eyebrow at him in the mirror. Jim smiles.
“You look very handsome.”
Spock doesn’t reply, but Jim can tell that he’s pleased.
They have plenty of time before they need to leave, so Jim treats himself to a long hot bath. It feels like a real luxury after months of sonic showers, even if he is prone to abusing captain’s privileges to get hot water on the ship more than he probably should. Amanda has left an array of Vulcan soaps and shampoos out for them, so Jim helps himself.
When he leaves the bathroom he finds Spock is sitting on the bed, deep in thought. He doesn’t say anything as Jim crosses over to the wardrobe to look through the outfits they packed for such occasions.
He busies himself with choosing an outfit, letting the smooth material of a dark blue robe slip through his fingers consideringly.
“Would this one be appropriate?”
Spock doesn’t answer. Jim glances over his shoulder.
Spock is looking at the blue robe. Jim lets it fall from his fingers.
“Spock?” he asks.
“I believe… that it would be better if you did not attend the event this evening,” Spock says slowly.
“In that? I have a couple of other options – ”
“Jim.” Spock rises from the bed, fluid as a cat, and takes a step towards him. He reaches out; his finger settle on Jim’s wrist and draw his hand away from the clothes. “I do not question your choice in clothing.”
Jim waits, but Spock does not immediately elaborate. “What are you saying, then?”
“I do not think that you should attend the dinner tonight.”
Jim frowns. “I thought you said it was tradition that your mate would accompany you.”
Spock doesn’t reply. He is still holding Jim’s wrist.
Jim searches Spock’s face, but there is nothing there that could give him a clue to where this is coming from; no clue to what he is feeling at all. “I’ll be careful with my shielding, you know that," he says. “I know I slipped up the other night but it was only because I thought it was okay when we were alone – “
Spock lets go.
“I do not desire that you accompany me this evening,” he says flatly.
It’s so blunt that Jim stares at him, taken by surprise. Hurt flashes through him, too instinctive to be repressed. Spock’s mouth tightens infinitesimally.
There is silence between them for a handful of seconds. A dozen different responses rush through Jim’s mind but none of them feel adequate. In the end, he goes for the least adequate of all.
“Right,” he says. “Okay.”
Spock was clearly expecting something more; he keeps his eyes on Jim’s face for a long moment, examining him. When no further argument comes, he nods briskly and turns away.
That’s that, apparently.
Jim stays where he is, watching Spock pull on a long maroon robe.
“Can I ask why?” He keeps his voice steady with an effort.
Spock does not look at him. Nor does he answer.
Perhaps he thinks it is the kinder option, to hold back whatever thought or opinion has led to this. It is not, because now all Jim can do is wonder what it is about him that Spock has deemed lacking.
He can wonder, but in his heart of hearts he already knows. It would be easier if he really did think it was because Spock feared his shields not holding up, an emotional scene among the Vulcans, an embarrassing outburst. That would mean Spock fearing something he might do, rather than something he is.
He is human. He cannot help that.
With that thought, Jim returns to their bed. He sits on the edge and pretends to look at his padd whilst Spock finishes getting ready, practising clamping down on the emotions that threaten to spill out past his shield. He doesn’t want Spock to sense his despondence, doesn’t want Spock to know how his words have made Jim feel – small and unworthy and insignificant.
He thinks of the young Vulcans and their gossip. Has Spock come across similar rumours? Does he think it more dignified to arrive without his human mate, in the knowledge that some of his peers consider Jim his bedwarmer?
Part of him feels like a coward for his silence – he is a starship captain, he is Spock’s bondmate - but what is the alternative? He cannot – would not – subject Spock to a row, here in his family home on Vulcan.
Spock crosses over to him before he leaves. Reluctantly, Jim raises his eyes when Spock stops in front of him.
Spock hesitates. Then he sinks down to his knees in front of Jim and nudges the padd aside, taking both of Jim’s hands in his own instead.
“Jim,” he says. Another pause. This is uncomfortable territory for him. He ploughs on. “I do not look forward to this dinner, much less without you by my side. Please believe that.”
“Why don’t you want me to go with you?” It comes out as a whisper. There’s no hiding the hurt.
Spock closes his eyes briefly. “For our benefit,” he says when he opens them again, which is really no answer at all. “Jim, it is better this way.”
It doesn’t feel better. Jim forces a smile that doesn’t seem to reassure Spock at all, and pulls his hands free to reach for the padd again.
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
-
It is late when Spock does get back. Jim is half-asleep despite his intentions to wait up.
In truth, after hearing everyone leave without him and being left alone in the empty house, he spent the evening working himself up into a foul mood over the whole situation. Hurt turned to anger as the hours passed. It was probably a good thing that he fell asleep.
Spock slides into bed beside him quietly, but when Jim stirs and half-turns towards him Spock wastes no time in pulling Jim close.
Spock is warm against him and his arms are tight and possessive as they draw him in. For half a second, the urge to pull away crosses Jim’s mind, to punish Spock for his distance, for the words he said.
Then he opens his eyes and finds Spock looking at him with so much tenderness that his chest aches with it. The anger dissipates as though it was never there.
“How was it?” he whispers.
“Only 37.8 percent of conversation was stimulating,” Spock murmurs. His hands are roving all over Jim, caressing his back, sliding down to his ass. “I find that I much prefer being here with you.”
Jim shivers, arches into his touch. “You definitely made that statistic up.”
“Perhaps.” Spock gives him a little nudge, testing to see if Jim will comply with being rolled onto his back. Jim does, and Spock wastes no time in rolling himself on top of Jim, though he supports his own weight with arms on each side of Jim with well-practised ease.
Jim lets Spock manoeuvre him however he wants, reaching up for a human kiss whilst Spock settles between his legs. Spock kisses him back, leaning up on one elbow whilst his other hand reaches for the bottle of oil on the bedside table.
His fingers are slick and warm as they slide between Jim’s legs. He squirms as Spock prepares him, trying to hurry Spock along, but Spock is used to ignoring him until he himself has deemed Jim ready. He covers Jim’s body with his own as he pushes inside and Jim moans, lifting his arms to wrap around Spock’s back. Spock catches his wrists in one large hand and pins them above his head instead. Jim squirms again, testing the grip, and flashes Spock a lazy grin.
“Got me where you want me?” he murmurs, teasing.
Spock responds with a punishing snap of his hips that has the breath stuttering out of Jim’s lungs.
“T’nash-veh,” Spock rumbles. Jim shivers. Mine.
He fucks Jim slow and deep, the bedframe shuddering beneath them. Jim tries to keep quiet at first but he can’t help the little gasps that Spock’s thrusts keep punching out of him; before long Spock pauses to give him a long-suffering look that almost makes Jim want to laugh. Spock’s hand covers Jim’s mouth and catches his cries, and he doesn’t move it until Jim is limp and sated beneath him.
Spock is finished too but he doesn’t pull out yet. He lies atop Jim for a while longer, comfortingly heavy even whilst he’s taking care to support his own weight so he doesn’t crush Jim. When he eventually rolls onto his back, he brings Jim with him until Jim is sprawled atop Spock’s chest. It’s warm and familiar and it makes Jim want to doze.
Spock picks up on that through the bond. He gives Jim the soft, almost-smile that he reserves for him. “Rest, ashayam,” he murmurs.
Jim does. When he stirs, dawn is cresting through the window and Spock is still awake. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling. He looks ethereal in his beauty and Jim adores the bones of him.
Spock looks down and meets his eyes. “You should still be sleeping,” he says, but the admonishment is gentle.
“I slept for a couple of hours before you got back.” Jim doesn’t want to linger on that, on the memory of the previous evening. He stretches on Spock’s chest, languid. “That was a nice wake-up call.”
“It was pleasant,” Spock agrees, as though he’s discussing the weather.
Jim scoffs. “Pleasant.” He focuses inward, to the place in his mind where their bond glows. Spock’s shields have stayed up for their entire trip, so far, and he can’t feel Spock’s side of the bond at all. He probes, just gently, and Spock allows a hint of feeling to come through.
Jim recognises satisfaction and laughs softly. “Pleasant might be a bit of an understatement,” he teases. “You’re feeling pretty pleased with yourself.”
“You are aware that I find sexual contact with you to be pleasing.”
Jim’s smile widens. “Just fishing for compliments, Mr Spock. A human trait, I’m afraid.”
“Unnecessary,” Spock says.
“I know, I know. I can feel how satisfied you are.”
“Of course I am satisfied. Your scent becomes more Vulcan when I have been inside you,” Spock says.
Jim’s smile fades.
It’s irrational, the way that makes his heart pang, but he can’t help it. He whips a shield up around it before Spock can pick up on it. “More Vulcan?”
“Yes.” Spock smooths a hand down the curve of Jim’s back. “Your scent changes as a result of our prolonged skin-to-skin contact. The Vulcan pheromones released during our coupling also linger on your person for the next 3.5 hours, on average. It is a minute change, but noticeable to those with heightened senses.”
Of course he counted. Jim absorbs this new information and tries not to give way to the worry that suddenly gnaws at his belly all over again.
On the ship, Spock occasionally finds cause to complain that Jim can be too reckless. He has reprimanded Jim for not thinking things through before he rushes in, which can result in injury, and for being too self-sacrificing when others are in need. That’s professional. Jim doesn’t like it, but his willingness to stand up to his captain is part of what makes Spock such a good first officer.
Between the two of them, Spock has never insinuated that he wants Jim to be less anything. Not before this trip.
It makes Jim feel small and uncertain in a way that he hasn’t felt for a long time, not since he was alone at the Academy with Finnegan sneering at him from afar and his classmates giving him the cold shoulder.
He sits up. “I think I’ll take a bath,” he says.
Spock’s brow creases. “It is early – ”
“It’s hot. I want a bath.” He grabs the robe he’d thrown aside last night and shrugs it back on, knotting it around his waist with hands that tremble slightly.
Spock is unwilling to let it go. He rises after Jim, sliding into his own robe as he follows him. “You bathed just over eight hours ago – ”
“Yes, but I’ve apparently been scent marked since then, so I think I’d better wash it off,” Jim snaps. He’s aiming for angry but it comes out bitter instead.
There’s a real frown on Spock’s face now but Jim turns away from it. He doesn’t want to see it.
“Jim?” Spock asks. He sounds deeply uncertain.
Jim stops in the doorway to the bathroom. He wants, very much, to close the door on Spock. Their bond nags at him plaintively.
“Jim,” Spock says again. “Please. I understand that I have distressed you, but I do not understand the cause.”
Jim keeps his back to him, because it’s easier, but he’s relieved that his voice comes out reasonably steady. “Do you wish I was Vulcan, Spock? With strength and stamina to match your own?”
“Never.” Spock’s answer is immediate. He sounds genuinely shocked.
Jim still does not turn. “Well, do you wish I wasn’t human, at least?”
“Never,” Spock repeats. Jim doesn’t hear him come closer, but suddenly there is a hand on his arm. “Please, Jim, look at me.”
Slowly, Jim turns. His heart is pounding in his chest from the rush of emotion and he can feel that his face is flushed and blotchy with it, and he hates it. Hates that Spock hates it.
“I have never wished for you to be anything but yourself,” Spock says.
“Even when I’m having crass outbursts?” He sounds horribly bitter again. It’s humiliating. But he can’t seem to stop. “I’m not so sure, Spock. You want me to smell more Vulcan and you don’t want me to show any hint of emotion even when there are no Vulcans in the room and last night you didn’t even want to be seen with me.” Hurt surges through him again, hurt and shame that he isn’t enough for Spock. This time, Jim’s shields are in no fit state to contain it; he sees Spock’s eyes widen as it hits him through the bond and he visibly cringes.
Jim swallows past the lump in his throat. Now he feels guilty on top of everything else, for his inability to hold his emotions in check. “See,” he mumbles. “I make you uncomfortable.”
He goes to turn away again but Spock stops him, tugging him back around until he’s facing Spock.
“You do not make me uncomfortable,” Spock says, and he sounds as fierce as Jim has ever heard him. “You have never made me uncomfortable. I react so because I feel your pain and I know that I have caused it. I have hurt you.”
Slowly, he releases his firm grip on Jim’s arms, as though he expects Jim to flee the moment he is not held in place. Jim doesn’t.
There is silence for a long moment. Jim breathes deeply and forces his bucking emotions under control.
“Why didn’t you want me to go with you last night?”
Spock closes his eyes briefly. Jim half-expects him to pull away, to avoid the question, but then he opens them again and regards Jim steadily.
“Many on Vulcan are progressive in thought, attitude and action,” he says. “Some, however, are not. They cling to outdated ideals of Vulcans as a superior race and are… deeply unpleasant, in their bigoted views of humanity. I knew that a number of these Vulcans would be present at the event and did not wish to expose you to their bigotry.”
Jim sighs. “Spock. Do you think I don’t know what they think? That I haven’t already come across it?”
He can read unhappiness in Spock’s eyes. “I know this. And I regret that you have been forced to face any of it at all.”
“So do I. But that’s not the point of this. Spock, nothing could make me feel worse than thinking that you’re ashamed of me.”
Spock’s hands find his. He grips them tight.
“Never,” he says again. He hesitates, then adds, “I believed that it would be… easier… if I went alone. I did not want to risk you hearing any of their poison, or facing their judgement in person. But I realise my mistake. I see now that in leaving you behind, I caused you pain, and by not explaining my reasoning, that pain deepened. Forgive me, ashayam.”
After a moment, Jim squeezes his hands. He’s suddenly very tired again and he doesn’t have it in him to find the right words, so he just lets himself sag forward into Spock. Spock catches him, of course, and he cradles Jim to his chest like he’s something immeasurably precious.
“Forgive me,” he murmurs again. “T'nash-veh tel-tor, t’hy’la. Forgive me.”
“I do, I do,” Jim mumbles into Spock’s chest. He thinks he feels Spock kiss the top of his head, an action so human that he can’t help but hide a small smile.
Spock guides him back to their bed and wraps him up in the cool sheets. Jim curls up close to Spock’s familiar heat and finally feels the tension that he’s been holding onto these last few days leech out of him.
“No offense, but I’m really looking forward to getting back to the ship,” he says.
“And I.” Spock doesn’t even bother to hide the relief in his voice.
They lie quietly for a while. When Jim speaks again, his tone is considering.
“Interesting conversations to be had, when we do get back.”
Spock raises a questioning eyebrow.
“All this about Vulcan superiority being an ‘outdated ideal’,” Jim muses. “I’m sure Bones is just dying to hear all about that.”
The way Spock’s eyebrow drops back down manages to look slightly crestfallen. Jim stifles a laugh.
“Though you do not indulge in bribery,” Spock says, “I would be pleased to know if there is any way I can convince you to keep that topic of conversation between us.”
Jim smiles innocently.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it worth my while.”