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A simple feeling, Spock calls it, and Jim bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Because it is not simple, and it never was.
*
Jim watches as Decker and Illia merge, their bodies entwined, two becoming one. A being of pure, perfect logic and a flawed yet brilliant human. He watches them merge, and he feels Spock at his shoulder, where there has been a Spock-shaped gap for so long, and Jim feels – something. Hope is too strong a word. But he feels something, where it has been three long years of not feeling much at all.
*
The ship is quiet. Jim walks the corridors, corridors that he almost recognises. They are meandering back to Earth, giving Scotty’s engines a chance for a real test run. For now, the engine hum is the only sound. Most of the crew are resting, sleeping off the adrenaline fuelled, headlong dive into the unknown that V’Ger was. Jim touches a hand to the wall of his old-new ship, and feels the vibration that used to lull him to sleep.
He feels like he hasn’t slept in a long time.
*
His quarters are cool, too cool even for him, hot-blooded as he is. They are empty, and too big, and he will surely have to get used to them. But he’s never in all of his days had this space to himself. He sits on the bed and feels lost.
*
He tries to sleep. He pulls on shorts and slips into the bed. He likes the feel of the Starfleet pillow under his head. He loves the smooth Starfleet blanket, pulled up to his chin. He closes his eyes and makes-believe he is on the Enterprise. His Enterprise. He never slept so well as he did on that old ship.
He was never more content that he was where he was supposed to be.
*
The door chimes.
It is oh four hundred.
Come, he calls, sitting up, sliding out of bed. A starship never truly sleeps.
A starship captain never truly switches off.
He is a starship captain once more.
The door opens.
Spock.
Admiral, Spock says, hovering at the threshold of the door. I am sorry to have disturbed you.
No, please. Come in, Spock. I wasn’t getting much sleep.
Spock is wearing the black robe that he arrived on the ship in. Jim can barely look at him. He had been a vision, arriving in the moment when Jim needed him most. Like nothing had changed.
And now he is here again, wearing that same robe, just when Jim might want him more than he needs to breathe.
*
The door closes.
Jim takes a step forwards. Spock doesn’t move.
Spock, Jim says. What did you want? Did you need me?
His heart is fluttering in his chest, his stupid, soft and ever hopeful heart. But Spock is looking at him as though he has never truly seen him before, and Jim does not know what to think.
Admiral – Jim. I – need. Yes. Need.
Spock is never lost for words. He always knows precisely what to say.
Jim curls his hands, to keep from reaching out.
Spock came to him. He needs to wait.
*
Need.
I need.
This simple feeling.
Jim, I need –
Spock lurches forwards, stops a breath-width away from Jim. Jim looks up at him, to the face that he had thought he may never see again. His body is a wire, wound tighter and tighter, and soon he will snap. He digs his nails into his palms.
Jim –
Spock –
*
In an eternity, in an instant, Spock crumples. He kisses Jim in the human way, holds him as though he has held him a thousand times before.
Jim grips the back of Spock’s robe in two tight fists. He is never letting him go again.
*
Jim, Spock gasps, his forehead pressed to Jim’s own. Jim can feel a turmoil of thought and feeling through the touch, can feel Spock reaching out to him. Something inside Spock is calling something inside of Jim, and it feels like a rope of fire twisting between them.
Jim –
Spock –
May I bond with thee?
Yes, Spock. Please.
*
A simple feeling, Spock called it. Jim does not think it is so simple at all.
*
Spock takes Jim to bed, and Jim lets him. The bonding has left him exhausted. Weak as a kitten and full of so much – just so much – that he can barely contain it within himself.
So he lets Spock carry him to his bed and lay him beneath the blankets, and he watches as Spock strips off the robe. He has pyjamas beneath it, silken and cool to the touch when he slides onto the bed beside Jim. Jim presses his face to them and feels Spock cradle the back of his head.
I love you, Spock, he whispers.
He doesn’t need to say it. Spock knows it now. But Jim says it anyway, and he feels the tug of the bond where Spock feels it as deeply as Jim does.
*
Jim wakes to Spock curled beside him, his body wrapped around Jim’s as though he could not get close enough. Jim has never seen Spock sleep like this before.
He cannot believe he is seeing him sleep like it now.
He cannot believe that Spock is here, in his bed, on his ship, at his side, when just yesterday all had been lost. Just yesterday morning, Jim had known he would never truly be happy again.
And now – now everything has changed.
*
When Spock wakes, Jim kisses him, and he feels how Spock trembles beneath him.
Jim kisses Spock’s mouth, and it is good, and then he kisses his hands, and it is better, because the bond flares, and Jim’s mind is flooded with Spock.
*
Their first time is lacking finesse. It is missing Jim’s usual skill, and it is too quick, for both of them.
But there is no stopping it, no containing the raging burn of desire between them. They press together, barely able to divest one another of clothing before the desire becomes too much, too much, and Jim is pushing down, and Spock is arching up, and when they come together, Jim cries out as all of his loneliness and longing burn away in the cradle of Spock’s arms.
*
I thought I’d lost you.
I am sorry, Jim. I was not courageous enough to face my own self. But I am here now, and I will not leave you again.
Promise me.
As long as we are bonded, you will never again be alone.
Do you still think it’s a simple feeling? What we have between us?
To me, it is the most simple thing I have ever experienced. There is you. And there is myself. And there is, between us, a bond that cannot break.
Jim weeps. He can’t help it.
Spock doesn’t seem to mind.