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The bunk is comfortable and piled with several heavy blankets. Half-asleep, Spock burrows more deeply under the covers and into the soft pillows supporting his head. He hazily appreciates the fact his boyfriend wants to share a bed with him so badly that he supplies such abundant sources of warmth to accommodate his Vulcan body temperature.
Floating pleasantly between sleep and waking, he revels in the fortuitousness in the alpha shift’s scheduling today. While Vulcans don’t need much sleep, they do in fact like to rest when possible. Receiving a later shift made this feasible. The previous day’s mission had left the entire away team exhausted, and Spock had barely managed to disrobe and stand under the sonic before stumbling into bed after his partner. So intense was his fatigue that he-
Spock is definitely awake now.
It is 09:32. He has not yet risen to apply his makeup. Perhaps his boyfriend is still asleep, and he can slip from bed and complete his cosmetic regimen without his absence being noticed. He feels a light caress against the tip of his ear, and his eyes snap open. The first thing he sees is his captain.
Jim Kirk is a vision, honey hair mussed and face still soft from sleep. The man’s round cheeks and full lips are impossibly pink, moreso than usual. His hazel eyes, fixed on Spock, shine golden in the synthetic morning light. One strong arm props him up as the other reaches to lazily play with a pointed ear. His slight smile widens when Spock’s eyes meet his.
“Hey sleepy,” he beams. “You must’ve been even more worn out than I thought. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep so long.”
“I was indeed... fatigued,” Spock ventures.
“First time I’ve managed to wake up before you,” Jim observes, continuing his exploration of the delicate ear.
That was by design. Spock had gone to great pains to ensure that every time they shared accommodations, Jim fell asleep before him and woke up after. He would undress, join his captain in bed, and wait until he heard the familiar relaxed breathing that signaled the human was asleep. Then, he would rise, quickly remove his makeup, and return to bed to sleep. A similar routine played out in mornings.
Until now.
Spock knew these rituals were illogical, and he knew that Jim had glimpsed him without makeup on at least one occasion and undoubtedly would again in the future. It wasn’t that he disliked himself barefaced; he simply found that he experienced some measure of self-consciousness about his Vulcan coloring when he was with a human partner.
As Jim stares down at him, he feels remarkably, irrationally cognizant of every feature he has worked to ensure his captain would not see. His sallow complexion, the desert yellow tinging his cheeks and lids, his brown lips... he averts his eyes from Jim, recalling human opinions on Vulcan physiognomy he had heard expressed in the past. Never to him, never about him, but always about features he possessed.
The unease and aversion he had heard described by certain humans in response to these markers were reactions he did not wish to inspire in a romantic partner.
Yet here he is, and he feels no such emotions from Jim. The human is mind blind and inexperienced in psychic matters, possessing nearly no mental barriers. Spock senses no discomfort or distaste. There is only desire and love.
Jim rouses him from his reverie with a warm hand to his cheek.
“So beautiful, even in the morning.”
Spock once again meets his gaze to find that mild sadness has tinged Jim’s affection.
“I wish you’d let me see you like this more often.”
All at once, Spock realizes how truly illogical his intricate daily rituals have been. Not only is Jim attracted to him, his paranoid routine has made his captain feel as though he distrusts him. Spock takes Jim’s hand in his.
“I have been foolish,” Spock husks in a sleep-deepened voice. “I trust you completely and beg your forgiveness.”
Jim laughs lightly.
“There’s nothing to forgive, honey. Matter of fact, I should be thanking you - gave me about the nicest treat a man could ask to wake up to.”
Spock feels his cheeks heat. He trails his hand further up Jim’s smooth arm.
“Would you be amenable to what I believe Terrans refer to as a ‘lie-in?’”
“Why, Mister Spock,” Jim grins, returning to a full recline. “Nothing would please me more.”
Jim situates himself comfortably under the covers, and Spock moves even closer to him. Without hesitation, the human wraps firm arms around his trim waist and presses soft kisses to his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, and his mouth. Spock returns this last kiss languidly before wriggling deeper into the embrace and snuggling into his captain’s soft torso. Jim holds him close, and Spock lets out a contented sigh. They have time.