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Spock was about done with existing right now.
He was completely bored. He cleaned the apartment four times, folded laundry, read all of the newest science magazines, there was nothing new to watch. This was all to distract him from the true, glaring problem: Jim was gone for three weeks.
For three weeks, Spock had to endure solitude in the apartment without his beloved and it was torturous. It had gotten to the point where one day he sat in a chair across from the tv stand for hours just waiting for the dust to land so he could dust it clean again. Of course, Spock would never admit how much Jim's absence affected him and even before he left and Jim was packing, he denied even missing his love.
"Spock," Jim smiled and zipped up his suitcase in one effortless motion. "Just admit you're going to miss me."
"I will not," Spock was meditating in the corner with only the light of orange candles illuminating his features. "It is only 21 days, not an eternity."
"It will feel like it soon enough," Jim whispered into his hair, giving him a kiss.
Little did either of them know that Jim would be more right than he ever would be in his life.
So here Spock was, completely and utterly denying the fact that he wanted his husband so badly it almost physically hurt. It felt as if someone was squeezing his chest and he could not fill his lungs full of air.
He could admit that the first two weeks(more accurately, 11 days) had been somewhat pleasurable.
As an introverted person, it was easy to spend his days without any human interaction and progress his works and reports. It was easy to enjoy quiet mornings overlooking the city of San Francisco from their bay window, sipping tea.
But sleeping in a half-empty bed became almost a hindrance because he so often sought the warmth that radiated off of his husband and longed to feel the soft, round curves of his body. Over the years, both had changed in many ways, grown all the wiser and all the older.
Jim had softened, grown rounder, especially in the middle. Spock remembered the first time Jim noticed he wasn't fitting into his regulation pants and the little sigh he let out. As a human, he was self-conscious about his always-changing body, but Spock quickly remedied that by making sure Jim knew how much he loved him, no matter what, and how(though he'd never admit it) Spock loved Jim's body even more than he already did, loved feeling what Jim called 'love handles'.
Jim's hair also grew drastically darker compared to his caramel hair color when they had just embarked on their five-year mission, and now it was a deep chocolatey brown, a beautiful mop of hair that Spock absolutely adored. There was not one thing he didn't adore about his bondmate, his adun, and he made it known(privately--Spock was not one to announce his feelings to the whole world).
Their bond was as strong as ever, and sometimes at night, even though Jim was millions of miles away, he'd call out through their bond and Jim would call his name back. It was hard to maintain contact with him because of where he was traveling and the meetings he was attending allowed no devices of any kind, so they hadn't really talked(outside of the occasional 'I love you' sent through the bond) in all of the time he'd been gone.
Guilt was eating Spock up.
He'd been sleeping on the couch because it had become unbearable to sleep in their bed, a bed made for two and not one. He was extremely tired after pulling two all-nighters( over 50 hours of not sleeping) in a row looking over reports and strange new scientific phenomenons discovered out in deep space. Of course, the all-nighters were an accident, and he simply forgot to take the time to rest, something Jim always reminded him of.
Here he was, laying on the couch, trying to sleep and finding that he couldn't. He desired Jim. His presence. His arms wrapped around him. With this in mind, he stood up and went to the bedroom, opening the closet and pulling out one of Jim's old sweatshirts, pressing the fabric to his nose.
Instantly he was overtaken by a wave of euphoria. This scent, Jim's scent was something else entirely, an otherworldly experience. The sweatshirt smelled like pine and rosemary, like autumn leaves scraping against trees in the wind, like the soft dew that clung to the overgrown grass, like the waves that crashed against the jagged cliffs.
Without a second thought, he put the sweatshirt on over his undershirt. He wasn't wearing many articles of clothing, not even the usual Vulcan robes. Today he'd chosen something more Terran.
Besides the sweatshirt, he was just wearing boxer shorts and long white socks(his feet got really cold against the authentic hardwood floors).
For a second, he could convince himself that he was hugging Jim, but then the moment passed and he realized just wearing his sweatshirt would not be enough.
Situated on the couch, he turned on the holoscreen and connected it to his PADD before playing Jim's recorded Captain's logs. Hearing Jim's voice through the speakers sent chills down his spine and the anxiety of sleeping alone lessened.
He laid back down, clutching a gigantic pillow(that he totally did not bring here to cuddle against as a substitute husband), and rubbed his nose against the inside of the sweatshirt, inhaling Jim.
His eyes began to feel heavy and he drifted to sleep, convincing himself(however illogical it may be) that Jim's arms were wrapped around him, whispering soft endearments in his ear like he always did when Spock had trouble sleeping.
-----
Spock felt warm, so warm, and loved. He was laying on top of something radiating heat, and hands were wrapped around his back, pulling him close. His head was resting on something soft, and there was the distant thrumming of something far off...a heartbeat.
He couldn't believe it. He'd actually convinced himself that Jim was here in their apartment, holding him as he slept. Spock was definitely surprised, considering he'd never really had an extensive imagination. He stuck to facts and logic, but this was definitely a dream.
Even if it was, Spock concluded, he wished he could stay here until Jim could actually come back.
And he indulged it, because it was just a dream.
Spock nuzzled Imaginary Jim's chest, once again shocked at how real it felt, how soft it seemed under his touch.
He made a noise of astonishment when a hand carded through his hair and the word slipped out before he could stop himself. "Jim..."
Still, he didn't open his eyes, afraid it would all disappear, this imaginary magic, and continued to nuzzle Imaginary Jim's chest in gratitude to the wonderful feeling of a hand playing with his hair.
His mouth opens despite it all whispering as if Jim was really there,
"Jim, ashayam, ashal-veh, taluhk...k'diwa, t'nash-veh, tal-kam....t'nash-veh ug'yel-ha'gel...t'nash-veh yel..."
They were merely mumbled words, but Spock meant every word.
If only Jim could see him now. Clutching a pillow and uttering absolute nonsense. He would laugh, and Spock wouldn't even mind if just to watch the light in his eyes twinkle.
"You think my eyes twinkle?"
Now, there's no way Spock could've imagined that. Jim's soft morning voice and how it vibrated in his rib cage.
Spock's eyes shot open and sure enough, there was Jim and sure enough, Spock was laying on top of him, their legs intertwined.
"Sleep well, darling?"
There was no underlying emotion in that question, just pure joy. He was completely speechless, and if the furious heat that stung against his cheeks told him anything, he was also embarrassed. Because here Jim was and oh no this was all very real--
"You-" Spock's lips twitched as his brain was still recovering from the surprise of it all "-You are back?"
"Yeah, they let me leave a few days early. I told them I had urgent business to attend to." Jim was smiling so hard it looked almost painful. "Did you miss me?"
"I-" Spock choked on any words he had planned because then Jim pulled Spock up toward him and kissed him with as much passion as their first kiss after an electrifying game of chess.
When they broke the kiss after a moment Spock blinked, circuits fried and searching for a response. Instead of speaking, he kissed Jim once more, just to make sure this was all real.
Jim grinned against his lips, murmuring, "I guess that's a yes."
"Jim," Spock whispered in response, staring into those beautiful hazel eyes that shimmered and seemed to light up the world. A faint verdant blush returned to his face as he remembered the state Jim must have found him in, laying on the couch holding a pillow. Despite his emotional control, embarrassment burned through the bond.
Jim only tutted softly, returning his fingers to Spock's hair. "There's nothing better than coming home to you, Spock. God, I missed you so much. And..and to find you here on the couch in one of my old sweatshirts was just...it was-" He planted a gentle kiss on Spock's nose. "-just perfect. You're perfect."
Spock started to sit up but Jim gently kept him in place.
"Let's just stay here a little longer, alright?"
Spock nodded once, barely containing the joy of seeing and being united with his bondmate once more.
He readjusted on his husband's chest and closed his eyes, soon falling into a warm and wonderful sleep with the sensation of loving hands carefully petting his hair.