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The temperature gauge clipped up on the apartment wall read seventy-five degrees fahrenheit, and Jim couldn’t stifle a smile.
He and Spock had been stuck inside for almost a week now, Spock down for the count with a very mild head cold. His husband hadn’t wanted to cancel his lectures for the week, but when he couldn’t stop sniffling and Jim had to bring out a hypospray to clear his sinuses, he relented with a small sigh. Jim took to the role of caretaker with gusto, setting Spock in front of their old-fashioned (though admittedly high quality) television with a stack of embarrassing terran movies and a box of tissues. Ever the abysmal cook, he’d settled for making a simple vegetarian soup, and they’d whiled away the time with board games and sleepy cuddles.
It was always nice when Spock slowed from his mile-a-minute pace and took the time to care for himself - even if Jim had to give him a bit of a nudge - but pushing sixty and still intent on giving life a good run for its money, it was hard to keep him on the couch for long. This time, Jim was inclined to follow his whims. He was itching to get out of the apartment and actually stretch his legs for a while.
Cold weather was nipping at their heels, a bitter San Francisco winter to be sure. But the last few days had come with a reprieve from the chill, and Jim craved a little outing. Spock had deemed himself fully recovered and was catching up with lecture notes and late essays in his study with a mug of spiced chai, so Jim didn’t see the harm in getting him up. It’d be good for his bones.
“Knock knock,” he called against Spock’s nearly-closed door, nudging it with his foot and letting the late afternoon sunlight stream in from the balcony across the hall. “You alright in there, honey?”
Spock was wedged into the gap between his reading nook and the desk, poring over a padd with obscenely cramped handwriting covering every inch of space. He looked up when Jim stuck his head through, blinking owlishly and guiltily slogging the remainder of his tea around the bottom of his cup as though he hadn’t been an inch away from his screen two seconds ago.
“Jim,” he greeted, one lip twitching up slightly.
Jim invited himself in with a little dip of his head and came to stand behind his husband, picking up the padd and squinting. “My Gods, that is some dense handwriting.”
“Cadet Emma Morrison,” Spock mused. “I would reprimand her for her penmanship if not for the fact that her three latest essays on the progression of metaphysics in an advanced society are the best I’ve seen in half a decade, approximately.”
“Huh. Might have to take a squiz sometime.” The padd clacked as Jim set it back down on the desk and squeezed Spock’s shoulder. He clicked his tongue. “Be that as it may, though, I still wish you’d wear your reading glasses. You know squinting at those papers isn’t doing your eyesight any favours.”
There was still a little rumble to Spock’s voice, but not enough that Jim was concerned about his wellbeing. With a Vulcan metabolism like his, he generally healed up pretty quick. That didn’t give him much leeway with his sight though, and he stubbornly refused to wear glasses any longer than he had to.
“Your concern is noted,” Spock said, twisting to present his fore and middle fingers to Jim in a loose ozh'esta and raising an eyebrow when Jim met it quickly before leaning over to kiss him properly, a stubbly and sweet embrace that tasted like chai tea, “but slightly unnecessary.”
Jim ran his thumbs down the lines curving past Spock’s eyes and retorted, “Pshaw. Tell that to me when you’re blind as a bat.” He straightened up. “But, to the original point. Sweetheart, how are you feeling this evening?”
“As adequate as ever.”
“Hmm. Now the real answer?”
Spock gave him what could plausibly be the Vulcan equivalent of a half-hearted eye-roll, and Jim grinned. “Vaguely discontent,” was his eventual reply, followed by, “though it does not relate to my cold, I am sure. I am nearly in full health.”
“I know, honey, you’ve had a common cold before,” laughed Jim. “It only takes a few days to get over. Do you think you’re well enough to get out of the house for a little while? Even a Vulcan is going to end up-” he quoted “-vaguely discontented after being stuck inside with their illogical husband and a grumpy cat for nearly a week.”
“What are you suggesting?”
He gestured out the window at their view of the bay. “How about a walk down to the beach? It’s only ten minutes, and we can catch a cab back if you’re not up for the round trip. I’ve got a bout of cabin fever, and it’ll do you good to feel the breeze on your face. Plus, it might be a while before it’s this warm again.”
Spock was nodding along quietly as Jim spoke, hands clasped around the mug he still held. In the last few months his hair had gotten curlier and longer, filing down around his ears and over his neck in gentle swoops. It was beginning to creep down to his eyes, and Jim made a mental note to see if he wanted to book in for a hairdresser’s appointment.
“You make a good argument, ashaya. And you are right, it would be beneficial. When shall we set out?”
“As soon as you’re ready,” Jim said. “I might take a quick dip if the sun’s still up when we get to the shore.”
Spock finally put the mug down and Jim offered his hand, helping him stand. “Then off we go.”
__________
They found Spock a grey, cable-knit sweater in the back of the closet before setting out downstairs and out the front of their apartment building. His cheeks went slightly greenish-pink when Jim popped it over his head and adjusted the collar, tousling his hair gently, but really, Jim knew he loved it.
He himself was content in a light pink linen shirt and trousers, over a pair of swimming trunks, one arm around Spock’s back as they ambled their way through the early-evening slough of people walking home from university or getting out for a dinner with friends. A couple of Starfleet cadet uniforms peppered the landscape of dull hues, and each received an approving nod from Spock as they passed.
“Ever on duty,” Jim teased, squeezing his husband’s hip and guiding him down the sidewalk as a shallow breeze tugged their hair off of their foreheads. “You’re positively itching to get back on that campus, aren’t you, you pretty thing?”
“You are a flirt,” said Spock somewhat woefully, but he nudged their shoulders together anyway, “and to itch for an experience is illogical.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Spock, you’re used to my illogical idoms after fourteen years of marriage.”
Dregs of sunlight filtered through tall buildings as they drew closer to the expanse that was the esplanade, and it felt like emerging from a technological forest, going back to the sand and lapping waves of the past. Spock threaded his hand through Jim’s and let their banter fall to a halt, breathing in deeply for the first time in a week. His chest expanded and Jim could see the creases in his forehead lessen as he closed his eyes, feeling a lick of breeze on his tired skin.
Jim steered him out of the way of those passing by and raked a hand through his own curls, relishing the fresh air. He’d been out to get soup these last few days, but not much else. if not for science, he’d swear to the heavens this added a good few years onto his life.
“That breeze looks like an orgasmic experience,” he quipped to Spock, trying not to smile. “You wanna get a little closer to the action?”
The Vulcan looked at him like he'd spoiled the moment a bit with talk of orgasms, but nodded anyway. “Very logical.”
If they weren’t in the middle of the footpath, Jim would have kissed him right there and then.
__________
Unbuckling his belt, Jim slid his trousers down on the quiet stretch of beach, quickly following it with his shirt. Spock provided an alright shield from any nosy cadets up on the boardwalk, standing barefoot on the smooth sand, but he moved when Jim was ready, stretching his back and shielding his eyes from the glinting sunset folding out in front of them. It really was beautiful, and even more so seeing it from the ground instead of up in their apartment; all blending shades of pink and orange and yellow that faded into a purple stain as it met dark blue water. A couple kids played in the shallows, yelping and getting dunked by small, splashy waves.
Goddammit, it was good to be back out again. He was all for a good board game night or embarrassing movie, but for a guy who’d spent his golden years whisked all over the galaxy, a week sitting at home would never fail to make him tetchy.
“Are you going to walk?” he asked Spock, rubbing his forearms to keep away the light sting of the breeze. “I’ll only be ten or fifteen minutes in the water, but if you’re cold we can keep this excursion short, of course.”
His husband nodded. “I would like to walk, yes. Do not worry about me, k’diwa, go enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”
“Come get me if you need.” Jim pecked a kiss to Spock’s cheek, feeling the brush of stubble on his lips, and glanced down at the shoreline cheekily. “The ocean is calling me, Spock.”
Spock shooed him off with a little smile - they came so easily now, after years of hiding behind a mask of blankness and lack of emotion. Not that he’d ever been good at hiding his feelings, Jim thought fondly, but at least he didn’t try to anymore. “Then you must answer, mustn’t you?”
Hell, he loved that man more than he ever knew he could.
Trudging past banks of dry sand and into the lapping, ankle-deep waves, he waded up past his waist, shivering at the already-cold salt water. The weather may have been warm, but out here it was damn near freezing. Still, not one to complain when he was finally feeling the warmth of fading sunlight on his chest and fresh air from all angles, he took a deep breath and plunged in, eyes shut tight.
It was worth it.
__________
The moon was rising when they made their way back along the boardwalk nearly an hour later, clutching ice cream cones. Jim’s hair dripped against his back, feet still bare. He’d swum for almost half an hour in the end, and even got caught up in a high-stakes frisbee game sometime in the middle of it. Spock kept trudging off to retrieve the bright green, cylindrical object when one of the children Jim was playing with threw it off-course, and Jim had to laugh when he came back the last time and just… plopped down in the sand to wait.
Once Jim had dried off and put his clothes back on, neither of them particularly wanted to go home just yet. So, ice cream in hand, they found a park bench and sat together, watching the horizon.
“This was nice,” Jim said quietly, one ankle crossed over the other. He made a little move to nudge Spock until he turned, and gently wiped off a dot of vanilla ice cream that had somehow ended up on the Vulcan’s nose. Spock scrunched up his face and ran a fingernail down the hatching of his waffle cone, letting Jim find his words. “We should come down here more often. I love the beach.”
“So do I,” replied Spock. “It reminds me of the place we got married.”
He got a lulling sense of content from Spock’s side of the bond, and mirrored it with ease. “We got married - well, we did the human ceremony at least - upstate a while. That beach where you could see the eclipse. I’m surprised you remembered, you got pretty drunk off chocolate cake that night.”
“I believe it would be impossible to forget the most poignant moment of my life,” Spock murmured.
“Now who’s the flirt?” Jim asked, but inside he was so filled with love he thought he could burst.
“Perhaps we could both take the title.”
“I can live with that compromise,” he smiled, taking a lick of his allergen-free strawberry sorbet and finding Spock’s hand by his side, intertwining their fingers tightly. “What else do you remember about our wedding? I’m a little curious now.”
He remembered his fingers shaking so hard he almost dropped the ring when he gave it to Spock. Bones giving him the longest hug and then pretending neither of them had happy tears welling up in their eyes. The swell of a breaking wave as Spock’s mind crashed into his and he finally felt their thoughts and emotions colliding. A night of fairy lights and his crew making soppy speeches and Spock’s beautiful brown eyes looking down at him as though he was the only thing worth focusing on in the whole fucking world.
They… had gotten pretty drunk though.
“You nearly had a panic attack when my ring was not the exact right shade of blue,” Spock said wryly, “if I recall.”
Jim flushed almost as pink as his ice cream. “It was symbolic.”
“There… there was a conga line, at one point.”
“Led by Sulu, if my memory serves,” imputed Jim. “And ended abruptly when Scotty tripped over his own toes.”
Spock brought their twined hands up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to Jim’s knuckles. The rising moon reflected in his irises, turning them to molten silver. “I remember you,” he said quietly. “I will always remember. Your smile. Your words. Your thoughts.”
“Good,” whispered Jim. His damp curls hung against Spock’s neck when he rested his head on Spock’s shoulder, but neither he nor the Vulcan commented on it, content to stay in the moment.
For a while there was silence, apart from their shared breaths and a snuffly sigh from Spock.
“Y’know, our anniversary is in the spring.”
“The twenty-sixth of May,” Spock murmured. “Yes.”
“Maybe we make a trip up to that beach again… just us. The weekend, in May, while you have a break from teaching. What do you think?”
The Vulcan nodded, looking unseasonably content. “I believe that would be lovely, ashaya,” he rumbled, and then he sneezed squeakily, shaking his head and looking a little surprised at himself. “Oh.”
Jim sighed. “God, I love you.” Finishing his ice cream and wrapping his arms around Spock, he raised them both up from the park bench, because it was getting cold and his ass was slightly numb. “C’mon, honey, let’s get you home. Can’t have you catching another cold, we just recovered from the last one. Up you get.”
“You coddle me,” Spock snuffled, but he made no move to resist, leaning against Jim’s side and giving him a small, illogical pat on the head.
“And you love it, sweetheart.”
“I do.”
Behind him, the waves lapped gently, and he took Spock’s hand again, and they began to make their way home slowly, him and his sneezy, adorable husband.
The breeze stayed at their back the whole time.