Hey everyone! Ah'm Baaaaaack! My exams are over, and I'm pretending that I'm free, and don't actually have a cussload of work to do (WAAAAH PROJECT WORK!!!) and I'm trying (underline, key word, look at: failing) to overcome this cuss'd writers block, which seems to be doing it's best to keep me from FFN (along with cuss'd technical glitches on FFN). I have the mother of all headaches, which is another reason why my life sucks, along with the fact that I have to go to school tomorrow. Which is a Sunday, btw. And the worst thing is, I ain't even surprised anymore.

So here it is—one of the fics which I came up with during the exam period, promised myself I'd write later, and find myself unable to write. There must be zillions of them, on scraps of paper, old shreds of homework, handphone drafts, sent as emails and on my desktop. Interestin', no? Also, I hate high-heels. Some cuss of a guy musta designed 'em. Cuss. Notice my over-usage of the word 'cuss'? Yeah, that's how pissed I am.

Back to the actual fic. K/S (as per usual). Spock's being self-depreciating, and Jim's unable to understand why. Pure fluff. Assumed K/S relationship. (underline, look at: SLASH) I warned ya people. That's m/m. Don't like, don't read. I own nuzzin', not even Spock. Oh, and put up with Spock's inner speech, because I feel like it. *hearts*

ENJOY!!!

P.S. sorry for the incredibly long A/N. Seriously, sorry. Oh, and it's K/S. Do not believe anything otherwise, no matter how tempted you are.

.~*~.

Spock opened the door to Jim's room, unable to suppress an emotional response to Jim's very presence. He could feel his mental bond with Jim glowing (metaphorically) as he approached, anticipating (which was not an emotion) a long relaxing evening playing chess, and participating in other, equally if not more, enjoyable activities. It had been so long since he'd got a chance to meet his bond-mate. By some ridiculous chance, their shifts had been switched to the point that he only got to see a sleeping Jim, and the same went for Jim.

He walked towards Jim's desk, where he was no doubt scribbling away attempting to complete his work-load before Spock arrived. He would shove important papers onto the floor to make space for their chess set, which had found permanent residence in Jim's closet. Jim had a shockingly small amount of possessions, which Spock find slightly worrying, for unexplained reasons. He was beyond the point of pretending that he didn't have emotions, especially when Jim was concerned.

Jim was standing up, facing the wall when Spock entered. There was something wrong, Spock knew when he felt the tension in the room. He could not yet discern why, but he knew it, just by Jim's fierce grip on the table.

"This isn't working out," Jim announced.

Spock's mind, which normally worked at superhuman speeds, lagged. It took him a moment to process, and he stilled.

"It's just not working out. I know why, and I know how to solve the problem, but you might not like it."

Spock still didn't respond. He was still processing, trying to figure out if he was interpreting this right. Jim had been perfectly satisfied, even happy with their relationship, as far as he could tell. It was not possible—it didn't make sense. What?

How was this happening? This was, honestly, the first relationship in which Spock had involved himself emotionally, which did contribute to its prolonged success, as far as he could tell. Had he overstepped his bounds in his attempt to emote like a human? Had he unintentionally embarrassed, or stressed Jim, to the point that he would discontinue their relationship?

Jim was still talking, and Spock replayed the tape in his head. "It's like this. If we don't work together, this thing can never work." Again, Spock couldn't contextualize this, couldn't process the pain that was illogically echoing through his body with those words.

"It takes two to tango. I put in a lot of effort into this relationship, and a lot of time. You know I had better things to do, and yet I thought, well, it's basic courtesy to try to build a relationship with someone like you, right?"

Now, rather than lagging, Spock's mind was racing faster than Jim could speak. Processing all possible reasons for this failure, attempting to find all possible solutions. Because no matter how he denied it, this, this relationship and bond and friendship, were good. It was golden, like Jim. It coloured his life with Jim's sunshine, and yes, it made him happy, as Uhura insisted.

"You've failed me. You've failed everything I stand for. You have failed to fulfill the basic requirement for this."

Spock could not understand. It did not make sense. (Could Jim be so cruel?) He felt his heart rate increase, and the illogical phantom-pain intensify. All at once he felt sicker than he had ever felt before, nauseas and giddy, and light-headed. He had invested himself in this friendship, and romance. He had given it everything he had. Perhaps he was, by definition, a failure. Perhaps it was impossible for a Vulcan, let alone a defective Half-Vulcan to bond with a human, illogical to even try. Perhaps, he thought, if he hadn't even considered it, it would be acceptable because he wouldn't be experiencing this pain, this agony right now. He was finding it difficult to breathe, difficult to imagine a life without Jim's constant presence in his mind. Yes, Jim's jokes and uncanny observations were occasionally humorous, and it was a brilliant way to keep track of the man who had a tendency to vanish at every given moment, but there was more to it than that.

Being linked to Jim was like having a constant fourth wall to the three walls of his mind (for lack of a better metaphor). He was fine on his own, granted, but knowing Jim was there was like always having back up. It was security and a permanent companion who never failed you. Jim was incredibly active in his thought-process, and for the longest time Spock found himself unable to block the bond because Jim's every insight was gold and it seemed like a sin to waste a single second. Granted he never did anything with the thought-process and the unexpected information he received, it was… fascinating.

And Jim was… Jim. He was comforting and loving, and all the things which Spock craved (secretly), according to Dr. McCoy in an attempt to rationalize their relationship. It was ridiculous for the man to want to rationalize anything, when he clearly followed the strictest pattern of illogic (which was no pattern at all) but Spock understood now, somewhat.

He benefitted from this relationship. Only he did. Jim could have anyone he chose. Any stunning woman, or man, or alien. He could take them prisoner with his beautiful flashed smile, and gentle, slender fingers which probed his depths, sending him paces he hadn't even imagined. He could enslave Spock by the way he absently drew patterns on his palm, and the way he seemed to be able to read him better than almost anyone else, except his mother. Jim was everything Spock hadn't dreamt of, hadn't predicted possible.

Jim had been silent, facing the wall all this while. "I really think we should stop this," he spoke. So clear and straight-forward, but it was like speaking gibberish to Spock. Though he understood. And he decided then that he couldn't take this any longer, and that he had to leave and meditate, because he emotionality was becoming ridiculous, and because this was so incredibly un-Vulcan, it bordered on downright disrespectful of his entire culture. He'd never do this again, never make this mistake. He was about to spin and walk out, when Jim turned, and flashed Spock a smile and made an inquiring gesture about Spock's tense stance.

Spock paused to decipher the conflicting signals when suddenly, he noticed the Bluetooth in Jim's ear, and deflated visibly. He had been speaking to someone else all this while, and not to Spock. He hadn't been terminating his relationship with Spock. Somehow Jim understood his misunderstanding and cut the call short.

"Spock!" he exclaimed, "what happened?"

Spock shook his head, still somewhat lightheaded with relief. Jim seemed to sense this, and walked up to him and kissed his hands tenderly, closing his eyes, eyelashes brushing the tips of Spock's fingers. He kissed Spock's lips gently, and Spock tasted Jim for the first time, all over again, relief sweetening the kiss. His heart was still pounding erratically, against Jim's hand on his chest.

"You thought I was breaking up with you, didn't you?"

Spock didn't acknowledge the truth of the statement, but his silence was clearly consent. Jim sighed. "Spock," he whispered, with so much emotion, it made Spock shiver. "How could you even think it?" Spock resisted the very human urge to shrug. "Don't you see? You're mine." Jim's voice was rough and low, containing a fierceness that fed fire into Spock's blood and set it singing in his veins. "You're my everything," Jim said again, and I'm not going to let you go unless you ask it of me."

Spock gave in, and asked a question. After all, if Jim loved him like this and professed it clearly, he would reply similarly. "But why?" and it was a sum of every insecurity he had ever felt, ever moment of doubt and wonder.

Jim sighed and dragged him to a couch, where he managed to hold him in such a way that there was an impossible amount of skin contact. Spock felt an obviously-not-physical rush of heat, and melted. "It's because you complete me, Spock. I don't know how to say it. Meet my mind with yours, and I'll show you."

Spock did so, and was almost instantly swamped by the tide of emotions; warmth, safety, familiarity, comfort, excitement. Home. Almost exactly what he felt for Jim.

"Why do you think I can give this up?"

Spock showed his own thoughts. Clearly he provided less emotional support, clearly he was less sexually experienced, and hence less pleasurable, clearly he caused Jim to feel isolation due to his inability to express emotions and other human tendencies.

Jim shoved all those to a side and told him exactly what he thought about those insecurities, and Spock couldn't help but smile as Jim utilized the vocabulary of a human three year old, combined with a Vulcan three year old; imaginatively vulgar and sophisticated in turns.

But all in all, when Jim's anger (at what, Spock wasn't sure) settled, he leaned into Spock's chest and sighed. "Spock, I love you. I love you like nothing I've ever loved before, and I probably won't stop loving you till the day I die, and then still I believe I will love you in my next life, however illogical that may be. I need you to know that there is no one I hold in higher regard than you, and every second you spend with me is more precious than the time I spend anywhere else, because I love you, Spock."

It was true. Every word was true. He could feel Jim's emotions rolling off him in thick waves, and felt love in return, because this man had given him more than anyone else ever had before. He'd given him acceptance and peace and friendship and love, and never asked for anything in return.

Suddenly he felt guilty for doubting him. Jim was most definitely not that cruel. He wouldn't hurt Spock like that, not when he clearly loved him just as much. He promised himself, as he relaxed in Jim's hold, he would never doubt Jim again.

Well what do you all think? I know it's been a while between when I wrote the first bit and the last bit, but I hope it isn't disjointed.

REVIEW!!

I felt that his paper was about as intelligent as a medium sized rabbit.

Love,

Lady Merlin