Every Night
a ficlet by plaidshirtjimkirk
Rating: T ☆ Word Count: 888
Summary/Prompt: Imagine Spock discovering spooning the first time he and Jim share a bed.
Spock reached for an onyx rook, but before his fingertips could take hold of the piece, they were stopped in midair by Jim’s. Thin Vulcan lips parted and Spock raised his eyes as Jim entwined their digits, suspending the embracing of their hands beside the three-dimensional chess set.
He was instantly captivated by the soft smile barely tugging at the corners of Jim’s mouth and the nearly half-lidded eyes regarding him. A perfect match to what he was actually seeing, Spock could feel an immeasurable amount of love radiating into him from their contact. It was apparent in every facet of Jim, and Spock soaked it up with reckless abandon. His heart began beating faster in his side as he drank everything Jim offered in.
He long ago gave up on fighting it. Surrender had always been imminent.
“Jim,” he finally whispered, the inner ends of his brows lifting and slightly softening his expression.
Without a word, Jim’s fingers straightened and slipped through Spock’s own, parting their hands slowly until only the tips of their digits touched. And then the contact was broken. However, Spock’s hand remained where it was, even though Jim had retreated and begun to rise from his chair.
The emotional transference was like a drug—some sweet song that echoed through the pathways of every nerve and stimulated thoughts that Spock could only describe as flawlessly beautiful. It intoxicated him, claimed him, had every receptor in his body screaming for the feeling only Jim could provide. And if he had a decision in the matter, he would choose for his hand to be forever bound to Jim’s—that their lives would forever be weaved together in the fabric of the universe itself so that they would never separate.
Spock didn’t have that choice, however; that was made clear from his hand remaining solitarily stretched out beside the chess set, as if expecting that dearest touch to return even though Jim was no longer across from him. He was walking slowly, staying close to the small table they had been playing at, and then disappeared from Spock’s peripheral vision.
Just as he was about to finally lower his hand, Spock felt one arm slip around him in a half hug from behind and then saw Jim reaching past his shoulder to take it. Their fingers intertwined again securely with Vulcan knuckles buried into a human palm, and Jim pulled their hands to Spock’s chest to complete his embrace.
He ran his lower lip along the edge of one pointed green ear, and softly breathed, “Come to bed with me, Spock.”
Spock’s eyes closed and his tongue slipped out quickly to lick his lips. His chin dropped once in acknowledgement, but he didn’t get up; instead, his other hand that was grasping the fabric of his trousers lifted through the air and latched to Jim’s wrist tightly. And then even tighter.
~
Their hands were locked together again, clasped to Spock’s chest once more. However, this time, they were pulled securely against soft black hair instead of a blue tunic. Spock’s eyes were closed, and though he was naked, he didn’t feel it. Somehow, being wrapped up in Jim’s arms under a plushy blanket compensated for his lack of clothing and kept him even warmer than when he wore his sleeping robe.
Or perhaps it was the entire sensory experience that stimulated the feeling. He was surrounded entirely by Jim—physically and emotionally. His scent was in the pillows and sheets, his essence ever-present like the stars in the Vulcan night sky. And though Jim was tightly pressed into Spock from behind, he found himself just as lovingly embraced as if they were facing each other.
Spock could feel Jim’s soft breaths falling into his hair and began counting them, his scientific mind forever at work. However, he hadn’t realized he was actually subconsciously tallying the amount of moments he was fortunate enough to share with this incredible individual he had come to love so deeply.
It was at breath number ninety seven when Jim nudged his nose into the black hair and then softly dragged out his name in a whisper, “Spock…” His hand was squeezed for a moment before Jim continued just as softly, “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, Jim.” The reply was delivered at an equal volume, and Spock pushed his shoulders into the warm chest behind him as reassurance.
“Okay.” Spock could feel Jim’s facial muscles move in a manner which indicated a smile had crossed his lips before he asked his next question. “Warm?”
“Sufficiently.”
“Can we sleep like this?”
Spock’s eyes opened for a moment before he clutched Jim’s hand even closer to him. “I can see no better option.”
“Every night?” Jim asked, his smile widening as he slipped a leg over Spock’s. “Until the end of time?”
It was only logical to debate such a ridiculous statement, as the dimension of time was infinite while life in their current forms was not. Spock was sure Jim was expecting this kind of reply and he was positive he would have given it if they were on the bridge.
However, for now, as the universe had shrunk infinitesimally until the only thing that mattered was the feeling of Jim’s heart beating against him, Spock’s answer was simply, “Yes.”
And they did.
plaidshirtjimkirk 