Work Text:
Jim panted, sharp and shallow, over the body. His knuckles bruised a reddish-purple, his hands were dry, split, and bleeding, and there was a nasty cut inside his lower lip.
“It is… highly irrational to challenge every individual who dishonours me.” Spock stood behind him, unharmed.
Jim clenched his jaw. “If you truly believe I can walk away whenever someone repeatedly calls you racial slurs, you married the wrong person.” He spat, venom dripping from each word. “I won’t— I refuse to let anyone treat my incredible, beloved husband that way.”
Spock’s expression softened. “I… appreciate that, th’y’la, thank you.”