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“It’s a surprise! You’ll like it!”
Spock shivered against the thick material of his robes. His ability to internally regulate was not what it used to be; many moons ago aboard the Enterprise he had worn a thermal and nothing else, but without the finely tuned temperature control, recycled warm air and soothing hum of the engines, the Vulcan had resorted to layers upon layers of soft cashmere and wool.
“Jim, I do require my eyes to see where I’m going.” The ambient temperature in the San Francisco Bay was roughly what one might expect for autumn; plenty of mist as the days went by, flashes of rain and mugginess but no real sun. Although Spock wouldn’t have traded his semi-retirement for the world, now that his father had passed there was even less of a reason to be present on Vulcan. Kaiidth.
Currently, he was being led to an undisclosed location. His partner’s silk sleep mask laid over his eyes. Each shuffling step from their shared apartment tentatively taken. Spock could map the layout blindfolded (quite literally in this case), but in deference to his partner’s excitement and want to provide a surprise, he ignored the direction he was taken in after they had left their apartment’s front door.
“Don’t worry! Follow me.” Half an hour prior he had been sat in their study, slowly going through the most recent reports of his recruits; half of them had opted to take up liaison posts aboard the litany of new hybrid ships, a fact of which Spock was extremely proud. He only had one Terran in his cohort, and they were headed towards his own planet. Apparently his young protégé had wanted to follow in his footsteps more literally than Spock had ever intended. Warm hands had covered his eyes gently from behind without warning, causing the Vulcan to jump.
“Jim?”
“I have a surprise for you. Do you trust me?”
“Of course.” He had said: there wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t trust his partner’s integrity, ingenuity and of course, resounding, loving affection. And consequently, he had had his eyes covered, and the same calloused hands had pulled him up from his work chair; Jim had helped him dress in his thick winter coat, tenderly eased on his shoes and with a jangle of keys lead him out of the door of their unit.
“T’hy’la,” Spock smiled at his current predicament, amused. “How can I follow you if I cannot see?”
“I know. It’s not much farther!” Jim’s murmured excitement drifted back to him. The ding of their lift was a dead giveaway; surely his bondmate wasn’t intending him to take them across the street? Spock had no desire to be run over by the streetcar or any of the hover vehicles nearby.
When the mechanised voice pronounced that they were going up, Spock found himself further confounded.
“Don’t worry, love, we’re not leaving the complex.” He heard the shuffle of footsteps as Jim’s hands dropped his own, coming behind him and circling arms around his waist instead. He felt the drop of his partner’s chin against his left shoulder, the hot huff of air beside his ear that to this day caused an involuntary shiver. So many wonderful moments diverting the turbolift and monopolising it for their own purpose.
He could feel the brush of Jim’s evening stubble as he grinned, his bondmate clearly catching his train of thought and choosing to telegraph a couple of savoured images. “Whilst I am all for a bit of excitement, perhaps we should wait. I don’t think Mr. Higgs would appreciate two ageing men having sex in his elevator shaft.”
“You are resplendent in your maturity, my Jim.” Spock practically purred; with every waking day he savoured his bondmate’s form, the changes proof that they had survived a military career; for each scar catalogued a memory neither would forget. Occasionally, Spock still mourned the body lost to Khan. Although there were plenty of marks on his own skin now so many years had flashed by.
“Charmer,” Jim mumbled, pressing soft lips to the base of his neck. Spock leaned back into the embrace just as the doors dinged to confirm their stop. He could feel Jim circle back to the front of him, looping their fingers together.
“If you walk backwards, you will fall.” Spock chided, aware that his dubious expression was likely hidden by the silk sleep mask (command gold, Jim’s proud reminder of his many years of service. Gifted by Bones about five years ago when they had provisionally retired for when Jim felt lost out of uniform.) Jim just hummed, and Spock could imagine his beguiling smile, the cheeky twinkle in each hazel eye inextinguishable. “No, I don’t think so. Ten more steps, my love.”
They continued forward, Jim leading and Spock gingerly placing each foot as he was lead. Jim’s touch left him briefly, and he heard the swipe of a key card, the electronic beep of accessing being granted. One more step and suddenly Spock was ensconced in a head that rivalled Vulcan.
“Where are we?”
“Near the roof.”
“That did not answer my query.” Jim pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“I know. Almost.” With a jostle of material, Jim began to remove his outer layers and Spock felt himself bristle. Nearly 50 years amongst humans and he was still overly conscious of his differences; his slim Vulcan body stronger and yet more slight than his co-workers, his skin retaining the olive tinge of his bloodline, dark locks once straight and lacquered to his head now left curly (amplified, no doubt, by the humidity in the room in which they stood). Jim rubbed his arms soothingly. “Don’t worry, it’s just us. Let me help.”
Slowly, Jim undressed him, making every movement entirely clear by telegraphing his psychic intent. Spock began to get an impression of the room in which they stood without inquiring as to too many details. Approximately 300 feet squared; plants in it, given Jim’s thoughts about where the watering can should be stored, warm enough to be undressed but private enough that it was theirs to use alone. He shucked his shoes and socks and was met with warm tiling beneath his feet.
Once stood only in his undergarments, Jim cupped his chin between both hands. “Are you ready?”
Spock nodded his assent, and off came the mask as his bondmate stepped away.
The light briefly blinded him, but once he had adjusted, the Vulcan was met with a fantastic miscellany of greenery, surrounding a bubbling pool of water.
“Jim. Did you construct a hot tub?” His partner chuckled at his insistence on enunciating the two words separately, despite both of their awareness that Spock had long since learned the correct pronunciation (and continued to ‘err’ for Jim’s pleasure.)
Jim’s face burst into a beatific smile that rivalled a clear-skyed sunrise. “You said you were always cold, love. And the winters here aren’t kind; I thought this way, you could have a warm haven for whenever you need?”
Not for the first time in their lives, Spock felt awestruck by the kindness and absolute adoration of his partner.
For months prior, he had tried to remain stoic about the temperature. He donned layers, cuddled closer to his bedmate, ensured that each time he walked to work it was accompanied with hot tea, and multiple knits that he stored in their hovercar where Jim wouldn’t think to check (the man hadn’t quite gotten over his joy of driving, irrespective of his lack of skill). Clearly, Jim had noticed and decided to act.
And had managed to do so entirely in secret, despite still lecturing 4 times a week.
The room itself was beautiful; sprawling plants and climbing vines running along the edges, hanging baskets interspersed between the gold geometric lampshades. The floor was tiled white and robin’s egg, the tub a ceramic white with an inlaid gold trim, with wooden slat benches flanking it. In the lefthand corner lay a pile of soft-looking teal towels, and on the righthand side what looked like a collection of scientific periodicals.
There was even a small alcove built into the wall with a replicator for tea.
Spock felt the choke of emotion wash up his throat, his eyes stinging.
Jim’s face fell, concerned. “You don’t like it? I mean—it’s our room, I rented it, we can always change—”
Swallowing around the palpable lump, the Vulcan swept forward to kiss his anxious human, long fingers brushing his psi points to communicate the words that he couldn’t say.
“Thank you. It’s perfect.”
The evening was spent in the hot tub and many evenings that followed. Spock eased his bones in the hot waters, entranced by the bubble function; Jim joined him, ruddy faced and happy to watch his bondmate relax. And for each evening they passed, the Vulcan couldn’t help but wonder just how he had gotten so lucky.