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Spock’s chest rose and fell evenly as he laid on his back, as still as the dead. The bed was larger than those Jim had grown accustomed to on the Enterprise, but even so, it had scarcely enough room for two grown men. Whether Spock was sleeping or deep in meditation, Jim could only guess, but either way, Spock seemed to be completely unaware of the world around them.
Completely unaware of Jim, too.
Jim shifted, grimacing. He appreciated the extra room, but the mattress itself was terribly stiff, and no matter what side he stretched out on, he found himself unable to get comfortable. He’d hate to wake Spock with his tossing and turning.
He had no idea what time it was, but he was sure that he’d been at this for over an hour as sleep continued to evade him. He glanced over the side of the bed at the floor, finding that it was beginning to look more and more desirable with each passing minute. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about waking Spock with all his wriggling.
It wasn’t a perfect fix to his situation: while his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he couldn’t be sure what parts of the floor were open and what was covered by wiring and spare bits that Spock was tinkering with. He didn’t want to stumble into the work Spock had already done and destroy it, and he would feel terrible if he ended up waking Spock with the noise that might ensue.
Jim sighed softly, exhaling through his nose. He settled back against his pillow, then flipped onto his side, this time facing Spock. Light filtered in through the window from a streetlight, illuminating the bridge of Spock’s nose.
Jim swallowed hard, shoving his hands further under his pillow and tightening them into fists as the urge to run the tip of his finger over Spock’s nose struck him. He pushed aside the urgent need to touch, shutting his eyes as he willed the thought to leave him, admonishing himself for even considering it. He forced himself to focus on anything else.
A mattress spring was currently digging into the meat of Jim’s thigh and he grimaced, cursing silently. His mouth was dry; he needed water, but he knew better than to try and find his way through the mess of the floor, so he shifted, ignoring how parched he was as best he could.
He was exhausted.
There was no way of knowing how many more nights they would be stuck here, awaiting Bones’ arrival, but Jim wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to take this, laying beside Spock on a terrible mattress, pressed too close to his first officer for comfort, unable to stop his eyes from trailing over Spock’s face in the soft street lighting. All he could do was lay with his hands underneath himself, lest he thought of doing something ridiculous like reaching out to run his fingers through Spock’s hair.
Life was much easier when Jim hadn’t known the intricacies of how Spock slept.
Jim glanced over at Spock once more, daring another look. In his sleep, Spock’s face was slack, expressionless maybe, but serene and calm.
Jim felt something deep in his chest twist fondly.
Spock was Spock, for God’s sake! His first officer, a Vulcan! And here Jim was, making a fool of himself by even letting himself consider—
Jim thought of the Enterprise. They’d be back on the ship soon, he told himself, an attempt to placate his racing heart. This whole ordeal would be over soon enough. They’d be back on the ship, away from this terrible mattress, and away from…
Jim shifted his weight again, finding a position that was a little more comfortable. His leg grazed Spock’s but Jim didn’t dare move, not when this was the first time in an hour that he no longer felt anything digging into his skin. Still, this entire ordeal was going to drive him insane: there was no room for the two of them, and no matter how he moved, Jim couldn’t pull himself completely out of Spock’s personal space, not without climbing out of the bed completely.
Jim stared up at the ceiling, doing his best to ignore how warm his calf felt pressed up against Spock’s own.
Jim turned his head on his pillow. Spock’s hair managed to remain in place, the Vulcan sleeping so still that not a single hair moved on his head. Even deep in sleep, Spock remained neat and distinguished.
That same fond feeling flexed its hold deep in Jim, and Jim huffed, his attention snapping to the ceiling once more as his hands tightened into fists at his side.
If sleep insisted on continuing to evade him, then Jim could only hope that the light of morning would come soon.
-----
It was a terrible pillow, Jim decided. Much too soft.
He should have asked Spock to swap with him. Spock could probably manage fine without the comfort of a pillow, and besides, Spock slept so well the night before. Surely it would only make sense that Jim should have a go at getting a good night’s rest.
At the very least, they should have swapped pillows. Just to see if that could help.
The floor was certainly too covered in Spock’s mess now, so that plan was out the window.
Jim sat up, tired of thrashing against his pillow and momentarily, he gave up. A wave of anger washed over Jim with such intensity that he clamped his mouth shut to keep himself from groaning aloud. How dare Spock sleep so peacefully, while Jim was left wide awake and aflame with wrath.
Jim sent a glare Spock’s way, watching Spock’s chest rise and fall. The longer he watched Spock breathe, the more he found his rage melting away until all that was left was a sense of heated shame that made his cheeks burn.
Jim sighed. Softly to himself, Jim murmured, “Get a hold of yourself.”
Spock shifted then, his leg brushing up against Jim’s own, and Jim stilled. He held his breath, waiting cautiously for Spock to awaken fully. As the seconds passed, Jim released his breath slowly through his mouth, his heart beginning to race. Was Spock—
A sudden sharp inhale through Spock’s mouth, and Jim froze, staring in shock.
Spock was snoring?
A smile spread across Jim’s lips, and he allowed that fondness, now familiar, to settle in his stomach as he listened to Spock’s soft snores, unable to pull his gaze from Spock’s lips, illuminated by the streetlight.
Spock’s lips were parted just so, looking incredibly soft.
Before Jim could stop the thought from forming in his mind, he wondered how soft Spock’s lips were. He wondered if he’d ever get to know.
Jim swallowed, laying down again on his terrible pillow, his fingers accidentally grazing up against Spock’s own as he made himself comfortable. He knew what he should do, that he should pull his hand back and inch as far away as he could without leaving the bed, but despite this, Jim allowed his fingers to rest against Spock’s own.
Jim wasn’t sure when it was that sleep finally found him, but in his last moments of consciousness, he found himself soothed by the steady rhythm of Spock’s snores beside him.
-----
The blanket wasn’t big enough to cover them both. That was the problem. It had to be.
He should have been asleep thirty minutes ago. He was tired, wasn’t he? He was exhausted, sleep-deprived and stressed and overwhelmed by his complete lack of control as they waited for Bones’ arrival and in turn, Edith’s death.
Sleep had been evading him for hours each night, and he’d be damned to accept that it was going to happen again. But it had to be the blanket that was bothering him. There could be no other explanation. He’d considered his previous hypotheses—the mattress, the pillow—and decided the real issue had to be the blanket covering them. Barely. The blanket only somewhat covered his and Spock’s legs, and it was bothering Jim. It had to be why he wasn’t sleeping. He was sure of it.
Spock’s breathing hadn’t yet evened out with the tell-tale rhythm of sleep, but they’d been resting in silence for twenty minutes now, and Jim didn’t want to be the first to break it just to whine about not getting enough blanket. He was an adult; he could deal.
It was colder this evening, and perhaps subconsciously, Spock had shifted closer to Jim in order to trap the warmth between them. Spock’s leg was pressed against Jim’s own from hip to foot, and it took everything in Jim not to draw away, ignoring the small voice in his head that found Spock’s leg distracting.
It was the blanket. If the blanket was large enough to cover two adult men, then they wouldn’t be crammed in like sardines.
Jim shifted, moving his hands to rest on his chest, groaning inwardly as the position caused his elbow to dig into Spock’s side. Spock shifted to accommodate, lifting his arms before laying them down once more. In doing so, Spock’s hand fell over Jim’s own.
Jim stiffened. Jim made to move his hand away, but Spock seemed to have a similar thought, and all they managed to do was move their hands to the space between their two bodies, still overlapping each other.
“Sorry,” Jim mumbled, his face heating up. Spock’s hand remained wrapped over Jim’s own, his fingers surprisingly cool. Before fully registering the thought, Jim entangled their fingers, wanting to warm up Spock’s hand. As Spock’s fingers squeezed around Jim’s own, Jim’s heart plummeted into his gut. It was too late to draw his hand back; all he could do was wait for Spock to make the next move.
Jim realized he’d been holding his breath and released it in a shaky exhale. That feeling in his chest returned, that twisting sense of fondness, of…
“Jim?”
Jim swallowed, his eyes fixing on the ceiling. “Yes?”
Spock shifted, his hand still clasping Jim’s own. “Your heartbeat has accelerated. Are you well?”
Jim bit back a curse, answering instead, “I'm fine, Spock. Just go to sleep.”
Jim needed to stop this before… Jim needed to stop this. As gently as he could manage, he released Spock’s hand and drew both of his own over his stomach.
Spock shifted, moving onto his side—Jim ignored the part of him that thought this was odd after nights of Spock resting soundly on his back—and Jim turned his head, glancing his eyes over at Spock.
Spock’s eyes had closed, and Jim was sure Spock wasn’t asleep yet, but nevertheless, Jim felt relieved that Spock was attempting to sleep once more.
Jim looked back up at the ceiling, shutting his own eyes.
A spring was digging into his lower back.
His pillow was too soft.
And in Spock’s shifting onto his side, he had pulled the blanket over his way.
Jim flipped onto his own side, gently reaching for the blanket to draw more of it over himself.
Instead, his hand managed to land squarely on Spock’s own again.
Spock yanked his hand away, and cold dread iced Jim’s veins as Spock’s eyes snapped open, unexpectedly sharp in the dark of the room.
“I’m so sorry, Spock,” Jim said softly, mortified by how close his face was to Spock’s own but unwilling to pull back and draw attention to his discomfort. “That was an accident. I hope I haven’t offended you.”
Something in Spock’s eyes shifted; the sharpness receded into something softer, questioning. “You have not. I was simply startled and not expecting your—” Spock paused. “It is I who should apologize, Captain.”
Jim blinked. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“It is my fault that we continue to touch.”
Jim shifted, propping himself up on his elbow. “What? No, this has all be an accident.”
Spock didn’t respond; as the silence between them grew, Jim could only stare down at Spock who was now avoiding Jim’s gaze. “Spock?” Jim asked hesitantly. “Have you been doing this on purpose? Allowing our limbs to touch?”
Spock’s eyes remained averted, seemingly occupied by the pattern on the blanket. Spock finally heaved a deep breath. “I apologize, Captain.”
“Why—Spock, no, you don’t need to—it’s just, why on purpose?” Jim’s voice shook as he spoke, his heart racing fast as he dared to think, dared to wonder if he might already know the answer.
“We have been sharing these quarters out of necessity,” Spock murmured. “I should have better control over myself.”
Jim huffed, exasperated by Spock’s cryptic responses. “Dammit, Spock! It’s just a touch!”
Spock remained silent.
In the dim light, Jim could see Spock fidgeting with the blanket, pulling at a frayed edge. Jim wet his lips, studying Spock’s fingers. Slowly, he said, “But touch means so much more to your people. To you.”
Spock made no motion to react to Jim, as if he hadn’t heard him. Jim swallowed; decisively, he reached out, covering Spock’s hand with his own.
Spock inhaled sharply, beginning to draw his hand away, but Jim shook his head. “Spock, it’s alright. Let us touch. I’ve—I’ve wanted you to touch me.”
Spock’s eyes snapped up, locking with Jim’s, searching for the real meaning behind Jim’s words. Jim nodded just so, noting how round Spock’s eyes were, how they grew even wider as Jim held Spock’s stare. “But—Miss Keeler?”
Jim’s chest tightened, sadness washing over him in a wave. She was right, wasn’t she? Spock was made to stand at Jim’s side; there was no one else who was fit for that role. There never would be, no matter how hard Jim fought back against this—this feeling. It had to be Spock.
Jim squeezed Spock’s hand, realizing that it was trembling. Spock glanced down at their hands, then met Jim’s eyes again. With all the strength Jim could muster, he said, “You, Spock. It’s always been you. There’s no one else I would rather have.”
Spock’s breathing hitched. “Are you sure you mean—”
“I am sure, Spock. If it’s touching me that you want, then do it.” Jim squeezed Spock’s hand for emphasis, leaning close. “Touch me.”
Spock’s lips crashed again his own before Jim could even register that Spock was moving, and a surprised gasp escaped Jim’s throat, muffled by Spock’s mouth. Spock’s kisses were frenzied, as if something inside of Spock had snapped, and his hands roamed Jim’s chest and arms, allowing himself to touch and feel everything. With each touch, Spock’s breath was hot against Jim’s own, little noises escaping him as Jim wrapped himself around Spock, their legs entangling as Spock’s tongue slipped inside of Jim’s mouth.
It was messy and uncoordinated, but Jim didn’t dare slow them down, terrified that Spock would only pull away forever if Jim stopped him now. Spock’s hips undulated against Jim’s own, and Jim kissed Spock deeper, drawing his own arms up to wrap around Spock’s neck.
The air escaped Jim’s lungs in a huff as Spock flipped them, and finding himself on his back now, Jim shrugged out of his shirt and flung it to the side before he allowed himself to settle against the mattress, staring up at Spock as Spock discarded his own shirt.
Spock’s hair was a mess, his bangs sticking up as his chest heaved, struggling to catch his breath. Jim reached up, his arms pulling at Spock’s back, and Spock draped himself over Jim, kissing him once more as he coaxed Spock’s hips to press against his own, grinding his half-hard cock against Spock’s own hardening member.
Spock moaned out, “Jim,” and Jim shuddered, his eyes clenching tight as he slipped his tongue deep into Spock’s mouth, unable to stop himself from quivering at the sounds Spock was making against his lips.
Spock’s kisses grew gentler, and Spock brought one of his hands up to cup Jim’s cheek. Jim leaned into it, breaking the kiss to turn his head and kiss the tips of Spock’s fingers.
Spock tensed, a low sound escaping his throat, and Jim kissed Spock’s fingers again experimentally, wrapping his lips around them and running his tongue over the nimble digits. Spock loudly moaned, his hips rocking against Jim’s own, and out of fear that they might get caught, Jim reached out and covered Spock’s mouth with his other hand as he continued to suck on Spock’s fingers.
Spock’s erection dug into Jim’s thigh, and as Jim worked at Spock’s fingers with his tongue, Spock only seemed to grow harder, sighing and moaning obscene noises barely muffled by Jim’s palm. Jim grunted, rolling his hips up against Spock’s own, starting to pant around Spock’s fingers.
Jim dropped his hand away from Spock’s wrist, leaving Spock to hold his own fingers in Jim’s mouth so that he could instead pull at their pants, struggling to free their erections with just his one hand as Spock continued to mewl against his palm as Jim made a mess of Spock’s fingers.
He finally managed to free them both, and as Spock’s hips pressed down against Jim’s, they hissed as skin met skin. Jim withdrew Spock’s fingers from his mouth and moved his other hand to wrap around the back of Spock’s head to bring him in for an intense kiss as they began to devour each other, all tongue and teeth as they began to rut, whimpering into each other’s open mouths.
It was too dark for Jim to get a proper look at Spock, and he could only hope that he might have the chance later, that Spock would allow for this to happen again. He needed it to happen again: this wouldn’t be enough, it never would be, and Jim needed to hope that soon they would be back in their own time, back on the Enterprise, with all the time in the world. He needed to know that they still had time.
“Jim, please,” Spock whined softly against Jim’s lips, and it was nearly enough to make Jim come, the sound of his name breathy and strained and needy, but Jim held on, his muscles beginning to feel tight and tense as arousal pooled deep in his belly, heat spreading over him as Spock’s hands wrapped tight around Jim, Spock’s nails digging into his skin.
Jim moved his lips to Spock’s neck, mouthing at a spot under Spock’s ear, and Spock bucked forward, arching. Spock shook, breathy moans escaping him despite his attempts to stay silent, but as Jim bit down on Spock’s neck, Spock cried out, “More, more, more!”
Jim set a merciless rhythm as he reached a hand down to jerk both of their cocks, his teeth still digging into the sensitive skin of Spock’s neck as he sucked and teased out shaky breaths and grunts from Spock.
Jim could feel Spock start to stiffen, his hands searching frantically for something to grip onto as Jim squeezed their cocks, wanting to bear witness to Spock’s release. Jim pulled back just enough to look at Spock’s face, all twisted up in pleasure, and in the furrow of Spock’s brow, Jim knew Spock had to be close, as close as Jim was, his own heart racing in his chest as pleasure crescendoed towards its climax.
Spock was properly fucking into Jim’s fist now, his hips stuttering as they struggled to maintain their rhythm. With one last powerful thrust, Spock cried out, cum shooting out all over Jim’s chest, and Jim held on, his own orgasm close as he milked Spock through his release.
“Jim,” Spock choked, his name a sob on Spock’s lips, and that was all it took for Jim to follow after, a strangled noise escaping Jim’s own throat as he came, painting Spock’s belly with his cum.
Spock went limp, collapsing over Jim as Jim continued to fuck his fist through his release, not ready for it to stop, even when they were both finished and overstimulated. Spock whimpered, shaking, and Jim dropped his hand, burrowing his face into Spock’s shoulder as he collected himself, heaving deep breaths.
Against him, Jim felt Spock make a low sort of sound in his chest, and it took a moment for Jim to realize that Spock was making a soft cooing noise. With Spock stretched over him, Jim could barely breathe, but he didn’t mind. He chuckled shakily, pressing a kiss against Spock’s cheek, hoping it would reassure Spock—and himself—that what they had done was okay. That Jim wasn’t going to leave.
Spock shifted, blessedly moving most of his weight off of Jim and back onto the mattress. He heard Spock swallow, then ask, “Was that—?”
“It was fine, Spock,” Jim answered. Quickly, he corrected, “Better than fine. Wonderful.”
His head was spinning. He felt giddy, and Jim shut his eyes, unable to stop himself from grinning. He patted Spock gently, and Spock pulled off of him, settling onto his own back next to Jim.
Jim lifted his head, glancing down at himself and the mess that they had made. He grimaced. “We should clean up before anyone catches us like this.”
He couldn’t begin to imagine the mess that would follow if they were found right now.
To his confusion, Spock stiffened beside him, shrinking. “Of course. My apologies, Captain.”
“Spock?” Jim asked, wishing he could catch Spock’s gaze now.
Spock straightened, and it was like Jim was standing on the bridge with his first officer again, not Spock, the man he’d just made love to.
Spock said, “I will be sure to make sure no one knows that we—”
“Oh!” Jim couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out for Spock in the dark, his hand grazing Spock’s arm. “Spock, I meant because we’re here, in this time, on Earth.” He scooted closer to Spock, and caught Spock’s gaze, finding that Spock was watching him cautiously.
“In our own time,” Jim added sincerely, squeezing Spock’s shoulder. “I am happy to have you. Proud to, if you’ll let me.”
Maybe it was just the dim lighting from the streetlight, or maybe it was Jim’s own exhaustion messing with his senses, but he could have sworn that at his sentiment, Spock’s eyes misted over.
“In the morning,” Spock said after taking a moment. “We will wake early and clean. For now, sleep.”
Spock opened his arms to Jim, and Jim’s heart swelled fondly. He slipped his pants off of himself completely, wiping at his chest before attempting to clear off Spock’s own skin. He dropped the pants off the side of the bed, then took his place in Spock’s arms, finding the room much colder now that he was naked and covered in their own spunk.
Spock stretched the blanket over them, and Jim found that now, it seemed to cover them perfectly.
-----
Back on the Enterprise, Jim was glad to see that things were back to normal.
Well, in their own way.
Jim knew that he and Spock still needed to have a conversation, a real talk about this, whatever this was, but as Spock held Jim’s hand, Jim suspected that Spock already knew. Words seemed unnecessary, especially with Spock looking at him with such open sincerity.
They stood outside sickbay, the hallway empty. Bones was getting checked out by Nurse Chapel, and in a moment, Jim planned on slipping inside to make sure that Bones was completely fine, but for now, he needed a moment.
He held Spock’s hand in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Jim was never prepared for the sheer depth of emotion that Spock held in his own eyes, dark and soft and so open. Spock seemed to be drinking Jim in, and Jim could only blink and stare back, finding himself lost in Spock’s gaze. That fondness in Jim’s chest never seemed to leave him anymore, not since that night.
He knew where they were, knew who he was on this ship, but despite that, he leaned in, kissing Spock tenderly, keeping it chaste.
Jim hadn’t expected to hear someone gag behind them.
“Seems I must still be under the effect of the cordrazine. I think I may still be hallucinating. Nurse!” Bones called out, turning on the ball of his foot, but Jim huffed, chuckling as he reached out and stilled Bones.
It was Spock, to Jim’s surprise, who spoke with, “On the contrary, Doctor. What you just witnessed was very much real.”
Bones narrowed his eyes at Spock, staring in silence before his eyes jumped over to Jim. “You’re telling me you two senseless idiots finally opened up your eyes?”
Startled, Jim shared a look with Spock. “Was it so obvious?”
Bones rolled his eyes, muttering, “Unbelievable!” as he shuffled back into sickbay with no interest in continuing the conversation.
Humored, Jim looked back at Spock, finding Spock’s own eyes lit up with amusement. Jim clapped his hands together resolutely. “Now! How about we head back to my quarters and make up for some lost time? I think there are some things we need to discuss.”
And there it was, Spock looking at him again with those eyes. Spock smiled, just so. “Yes, I believe we do.”
It was hours later that Jim found himself half-asleep and clinging to Spock in the narrow confines of his bed. There wasn’t nearly enough room, and Jim was sure that he might wake up on the floor if one of them were to shift over too far in their sleep, but despite this, Jim wasn’t all that bothered. Sharing a bed with Spock just didn’t seem quite so cramped anymore.