Tired

Kirk walked into Spock's quarters with a bottle in one hand, and a pair of glasses in the other. He set the bottle on Spock's desk in front of him, eyes flicking up to the Vulcan's face. Spock's face was shadowed, his eyes dark and glittering in the dull reddish lighting. Kirk placed the glasses next to the bottle with a faint clink. Spock's viewer was on, but Kirk couldn't see what he was studying.

"I trust," Spock said softly, "that you are feeling well, Captain. I presume Dr. McCoy has released you from sickbay?"

Kirk smiled, popped the top off the bottle.

"More or less," he said lightly. Spock raised an eyebrow, and Kirk's smile got brighter.

"We had a short drink and a long talk." He hesitated over the second glass, asked a question with his eyes.

"No, thank you," Spock replied, his voice still quiet, almost distracted.

Kirk's face softened a little. "It would have been...easier if you hadn't known," he guessed, voice colored with empathy. Spock lifted his head at that. His eyes were troubled.

"Easier?...Perhaps..." He trailed off, looking at the screen. Then he shook his head. "Any...distress I might experience is irrelevant. The chancellor is dead regardless." Spock pressed his lips together, folded his hands.

Kirk leaned a hip against the edge of the desk.

"You are satisfied, then, Mr. Spock?" he asked bluntly. Spock's head snapped up, his features sharp with a frown he wouldn't allow on his lips.

"No, I am not," he said with equal frankness and a slight shake of his head. "But...I..." A thought passed across the darkness of his eyes like a cloud over the sun. It colored his voice with sudden delicate intensity. "I haven't heard a word you've said," Spock finished, and looked away.

Kirk started in surprise. He looked down at his first officer for a long moment with gentle eyes.

"I...see," he said finally, glanced down. "Thank you," he said after a pause. He took a generous mouthful of brandy and sighed past the burn of it down his throat.

"The past few days have undoubtedly been difficult for you." Spock commented in a very different tone of voice. It bothered him. Sounded almost...hollow, somehow...

Kirk cocked his head, set his drink down, and settled himself more heavily against the desk.

"Some of it," he admitted. Spock looked up sharply. He looked abruptly and thoroughly terrified. "Spock..." Kirk continued, concerned, and leaned forward.

"Captain, my..." he choked on the word "...actions, the evening before the chancellor was killed were..." he shut his eyes, as if the conversation was literally too emotional to handle while looking at Jim.

Jim leaned over and got a steadying grip on his upper arm. Then he angled his head and just barely brushed his lips across Spock's mouth. Spock went still under his hands. His eyes were wide and followed him as he pulled back. Kirk smiled, lifted his eyebrows and asked his friend something simple.

"What do you want, Spock?" He said it gently. Spock could have taken it any number of ways.

Spock stared at him a moment as if his brain had frozen up.

"What do I want?" Spock repeated, looking bemused by the idea. Kirk laughed, a little.

"Yes," he said with a smile that he'd been told could charm bats out of trees. "It's a simple question." Though, he'd always thought bats lived in caves...

"I-" Spock said, and stopped as though surprised. Then he did something Kirk loved him for. He took a moment, and really thought about it. After a small amount of time, his head came up, and his hands came up, and Kirk got one brief flash of intense, dark eyes before Spock kissed him. He felt Spock's hands, strong on the back of his neck, the side of his face. Pulling him in, holding him close.

Kirk made a soft noise as he felt a swift rush of blood to all the right places. His heart was pounding madly- Spock kept breaking away, kissing him again, applying his tongue, then pulling back. The next time Kirk was really aware of anything except for mouth and tongue and teeth he realized he'd practically climbed into Spock's lap. He pulled back and it felt like he was pulling strands of himself, trying to untangle. His mouth was ready to laugh at the situation when he registered the look on Spock's face. It was the same pained, half terrified expression he'd worn just before Kirk had walked out on him, and Kirk didn't much like the look of it.

He grabbed at Spock's shoulders and gave him a brief shake.

"Spock..." then, with feeling, "SPOCK." Spock blinked, looked out at him instead of inward. Kirk let affection light his eyes, his face, spill over into his voice. "It's all right, Spock." He tilted his head down so he could look his first officer in the eyes. They seemed huge and impossibly black. After a moment, Kirk felt the muscles under his fingers relax a little, and rubbed his hands up and down Spock's upper arms, encouraging. "If it's what you want, it's all right," he insisted. His hands moved further down his friend's arms, kneading with his thumbs. Spock started making soft, pleased sounds, leaning back in his chair.

Kirk kissed him briefly, stood up. Spock shot him an indignant look Kirk thoroughly enjoyed. Kirk held out a hand in reply, cocked his head towards the bed with a speculative look on his face.

Spock was looking at his hand and for a moment he felt strange...like some small concentration of time had made Spock's eyes darker, the blue of his tunic almost unbearable, clearer and sharper than shards of glass in the sun...

Then Spock's hand was closing around his with a finality he felt in his gut.

He was standing up...Kirk frowned as the world suddenly developed a stutter. Time was passing in fits and starts. Spock touched the side of his neck and with a rush, the world caught up with itself, surged forward. It almost felt like Spock had put his hand into Kirk's neck, it was the oddest thing...

He looked up at Spock's face, and the expression he could make out was chiefly one of relief.

"Did...you just..." invite yourself into my head? Kirk watched Spock's face shift subtly. Ahhh. He could feel it, that time. Embarrassment. It swirled around them like milk in coffee.

Kirk abruptly flashed vividly on the look, the pain he'd seen on Spock's face. A few moments ago, and the day before. Whenever the two of them were...close.

Close, but not close enough?

Kirk's surge of concern was warm, and reminded him of apples.

"Does it hurt?" Not touching him like this? He spoke quietly, riding gently on ripples of not quite thought, not quite emotion. Not wanting to break the tranquil mood that had descended.

Spock hesitated with an oily film of shame, but he didn't stop Kirk from seeing. The clean snap of a sail in high winds let him know precisely how difficult it had been, to avoid touching his thoughts. A crackling cinnamon scent brought the thought of how much better it should be, if they let it happen like this, when they were together...

When Jim was young he would play baseball with his brother. Sometimes when Jim threw the ball he knew the instant it left his hand it would hit dead center. Like the ball was tied to a string, and Sam was just reeling it in.

Rightness. Once in a while, things just fit.

Kirk fell back on the bed, and Spock followed after.