"Sometimes I feel like he's still watching me."

He sighed, leaning back against the headboard. It was quiet in the room, with the exception of the noises of the stylus tip on the screen of the P.A.D.D. or the clicking of the keys.

"Why?" Spock responded, not entirely interested, but indulging him anyway.

"I just feel like he is." His train of thought faded away, and he just watched Spock work on the reports that he should probably be doing right now.

It didn't bother him that it felt so domestic for him to feel so content in just watching Spock work, that it was so natural for him to be here. He smiled to himself.

It just hit him, but it had been months since the last time he ad seen that being, since compulsively told Spock that he loved him. When he said it now, it wasn't compulsive; he meant it more than he ever thought he'd be able to. He had long gotten over the fear he had harbored for those words, he was more comfortable saying them, as if it was as easy as breathing.

He couldn't put into words how beautiful it was that he had somewhere to lay himself open, a safe place with someone who honestly wanted to see him flourish, be whole. He knew that Spock would give up everything for him; it still made his heart race when he thought about that. It was so daunting to be faced with something so powerful, something he couldn't control, couldn't run from, something he instead ran to.

He knew he belonged here. He wished he had figured it out earlier, without having some sort of divine interference from a race that was elusive and powerful, a constant reminder that he should never hold in what he wanted to say, a constant reminder that nothing ever happened to the people who waited idly by, waiting and watching for something to happen. He would never be able to thank them enough for slapping him across the face and making him see that what he had needed to find was never far away, he just couldn't see it.

When he was alone, he found himself uttering "thank yous" to the air, wondering if they were ever heard.


He snapped out of his reverie, looking back over towards the desk, capturing Spock's gaze and holding it.


"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, why?"

"There's just so much going on in your head."

"I thought you just block me out." He joked, playfully.

"I haven't in a while. I've become used to your erratic thought patterns. It's just that you seem rather enraptured by what you're thinking. Would you mind if I asked what you were thinking about?"

"You don't really have to ask." He said. "I was just thinking about you."

"About me?" Spock asked, his eyebrow arching in that beautiful way.

"I was just thinking about everything that happened. About how much I love you." He was still surprised at the ease with which those words fell from his lips. He said them enough for the both of them; it was as if he had dammed them back for so long that he couldn't help say them, especially when they couldn't mean more.

He pushed himself off the bed and walked over to Spock, pressing his lips against that burning forehead, running his fingers through that ebony hair. Spock leaned forward and rested his forehead against his chest and he pressed his lips to the crown of his head. It was so intimate in a beautiful way, that this all belonged to him, something that no one else would ever have. He felt Spock's hands gently grip his hips, the heat of those fingers seeping to his bones.

A slow heat spread throughout his body, weakening his knees, drowning him in something more powerful than anything he had ever felt before he had met Spock, the feeling of being connected to each other so deeply, of being one mind, inseparable. He had always been slightly afraid that his hectic mind would just drive something between them, keep them apart, but Spock embraced everything about him wholeheartedly, he wanted everything. Spock didn't say it as often as he did, but he knew that Spock loved him; it always drifted on the edge of their connection, and in moments like this, that warm feeling flared and burned through him and it was like a breath of life and it overtook him.

When their connection was in its basest form, he had been reluctant to take it farther, unsure what to expect in opening everything up and lying it bare. Being much less mentally powerful in the same way Vulcans were, he wasn't sure how he could handle everything that he was there for Spock to take, see, feel, know. If he had been able to create barriers, doors, he might not have waited so long to acquiesce, but Spock had never gone where he was reluctant to let him. Now, he let him, liberated in knowing that he was safe in him. He had been shocked as to the ease with which Spock had shared himself with him; he had hid so few from him and now everything was as much his as it was Spock's.

He couldn't define how much he loved this, loved him.

He knew Spock knew all of this as he thought it, felt everything he was feeling, the awe, love, admiration everything that only grew and deepened as time went on.

"I love you, Jim." Spock whispered quietly into the fabric of his shirt.

He didn't need to hear the words out loud to know that Spock loved him, but there was something about the tone, something deep and beautiful and calming, and the rarity of those words spoken out loud made them all the more precious and it melted him inside.

"You have a lot more work to do?" He asked in a breathy voice.


"Want me to help?" He smiled at the ease with which moments like this just wove themselves into their lives, such beautiful, intimate moments that punctuated their days. He fell into a second chair set by the desk and took half the messages, replying to them as needed. His eyes locked on the computer screen, but he could see Spock lean in, and he felt those lips press against his temple softly. He tried to keep his attention on what he was doing, but he instead was all to willing for the kiss Spock initiated, turning his head and locking their lips together. "We're never going to get anything done." He whispered, his lips brushing Spock's lightly.

"Don't concern yourself with it." Spock stated, clipping the thought, pressing another kiss against his lips. He smiled into the kiss, his hand resting against Spock's cheek, his fingertips brushing the elegant tips of the half-Vulcan's ear.

Nothing was more perfect than little moments like this, these beautiful moments when, although tomorrow could never be predicted, knowing that he had this for now and for always would always make everything make sense and give him something to hold on to, some underlying stability for the rest of his life.

He leaned into Spock's touch, hot and amazing, letting himself slip under the waves of emotion pouring out of Spock, filling him completely. At the same time, he was sharply aware of his own emotions rolling off him in calm waves, wrapping around Spock. It was so fascinating feeling two consciousnesses in his head, his own and Spock's, together, entwined, inseparable from now, past death, into forever more far reaching that space could ever be. He could never imagine being without this, without him. It was unthinkable, so foreign to him now.

They broke the kiss, and he grabbed the P.A.D.D.s and threw them onto the bed, dragging Spock along with him. He fit himself flush against his lover, his best friend, his bondmate, his everything, and drifted off to the rhythmic sounds of Spock working.

AN: I felt like they needed some sort of lovely ending after everything that happened. Thanks again to you all!

Another Question! [I ask you guys a lot of questions]: What would you like to see from me now? In terms of a new story? I have already started "The Thrill," check it out if you're interested, but I'm interested in what you want to see. Leave a suggestion in the review box. Click it, click it now!