My Prompt this week was: A Love Confession

Sprok

“Are you ready for this?”

Spock glanced at Nyota. Not at all with apprehension. Vulcans did not feel apprehension. Nor anxiety. “Is there any particular reason I should be concerned?”

She smiled at him. “Of course not. Have you rehearsed what you are going to say?”

Spock blinked at her. “Rehearsed? Why would it require me to rehearse?”

Nyota squeezed his arm. “It doesn’t require it, Spock. I just thought in case you were nervous or anxious—”

“I am hardly anxious, Nyota.”

She sighed. “Just…when are you meeting him?”

“In ten point three minutes.”

“It’s going to be fine, I’m sure.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

Spock had thought it would be fine, but now, he was hit with a sudden realization that what was about to happen would be a mistake. It wouldn’t go at all the way he wanted it to go or the way even Nyota kept assuring him it would go.

“Good luck, Spock.”

“Luck is illogical and—”

She shook her head and offered him another smile and then turned and left his quarters while he was still speaking.

Up to this point he had been so certain. Now he had nothing but doubts. He returned to his desk and sat behind it, pulling up his terminal and deciding to go over his latest lab results. Science was the answer. Logic and science.

When the door of his quarters buzzed, Spock looked up in surprise. He noticed that a good forty-five minutes had passed. Which was not at all like him.

He stood up and came around the desk.

“Come.”

Jim stepped inside. “Spock?”

“Captain.”

Jim’s lips curved into the tiniest smile. “Well, now that we have established who we are, weren’t we supposed to meet for dinner a while ago?”

“I love you,” Spock blurted out.

“Uh.”

Spock knew he was blushing. He could feel the change in the temperature of his face and he was really quite certain that a loss of consciousness was not at all impossible in the next five minutes.

“Well.” Jim said. He rubbed the back of his neck. Took a step backward, Spock noticed, feeling fainter by the minute. Jim cleared his throat. “How-how long?”

Could he even quantify it in such a manner?

“Five hundred twenty six days.”

“Oh.” Out came the tongue Spock was just a little obsessed with to trace over Jim’s bottom lip.

“Jim—”

“But we’ve only been doing whatever we’ve been doing for twenty six days.”

Spock made himself nod.

“So those other five hundred days—”

“Yes.”

Jim blew out a breath. “I’m not sure how to process this.” But he took several steps forward, which was entirely better than back. He was suddenly in Spock’s space. Very very close.

“If you do not return my regard, we can attempt to pretend I did not speak of this,” Spock said quietly. Spock could not. Never. But he would pretend for Jim’s sake, if that was required of him. In order to maintain a friendship between—

“Is that what you want?” Jim’s soft words hit Spock. His eyes were so saturated blue that Spock thought he might just drown in them.

“No.”

“Good, because.” Jim angled his head so that their lips were very close and could easily touch. Spock hoped that they would kiss. He never got tired of kissing Jim. He never would. “Because. I love you desperately.”

And then, Jim’s lips were on his and Spock grabbed him by the arms, pulling him closer still, and there may have been an attempt by Jim to climb Spock, and Spock, just might have, let him.

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