Spirk Oneshots

Smells Like Home

Jim doesn't look up when he hears the doors to his cabin swish open. He closes his book, a copy of The Hobbit which Spock had bought for him when they had last been on earth. He places the book in his lap and waits for his husband to join him on the bed.

"Jim?" Spock finally speaks up.

"Yes, Spock?" Jim looks up at the vulcan with a look of faux innocence.

"Are you wearing one of my shirt's again?" Spock asks, finally stepping fully into the room.

Jim smiles, and he almost giggles, "It smells like you."

Spock sits next to his husband. He gently cups the man's face in his hands. Jim can't help but lean into his touch with a happy hum. Spock let's a small smile grace his lips before gently kissing Jim.

"You've stretched it out." Spock says, then places another gentle kiss on his husband's forehead.

Jim snorts.

The next evening Jim walks into Spock's cabin from their shared bathroom, unfortunate as it was regulation required the two still have sperate cabins aboard the Enterprise. He had just finished showering and needed a shirt to go with the old Starfleet academy sweats that hung loosely on his hips.

Jim's eyes catch a warm grey sweater. He had never seen Spock wear it before. But when he picks it up it smells like his vulcan.

It had been unusually cold in his own cabin. The sweater would be much more suitable than one of Spock's thin black tops.

Jim takes the sweater and slides it over his head. It fits much more comfortably than Spock's other clothes. Save for the sleeves covering his hands and the body being a bit too long, it fits just as it should.

Jim raises the collar to his nose, breathing in his lover's scent. Something all his own. Incense mostly, with a hint of what Jim can only describe as being similar to toasted marshmallows. He only needs to wait another half an hour before Spock will join him. The sweater will do just fine until then.

Jim returns to his own quarters -thought he would much rather wait in the warmth of Spock's- and replicates himself a mug of hot chocolate. It seemed fitting considering the circumstances. He curled up on a chair with his warm drink and instructs his computer to put on classical music.

At precisely 2030 hours, as expected, Jim can hear Spock's gentle foot steps approaching his chair and he sets his mug aside. Spock kisses the crown of Jim's head. He gently combs his fingers through Jim's still damp hair. Jim lets his eyes fall closed and he relaxes back with a happy sigh.

"I see that you have found your gift, Ashayam." Spock whispers, the slightest hint of mischief in his voice that only Jim would be able to identify.

Jim opens his eyes, looking up at his husband, "Did you turn down the temperature in my room?"

"Perhaps. I had to assure that you would find the sweater and not stretch yet another of my shirts." Spock says, "Does it please you?"

"Mhm." Jim nods, he takes Spock's hand and kisses his knuckles, "It's warm, and smells like you."

"Then it is serving it's purpose well."

Jim smirks, moving as far to the corner of his seat as he can, "Not well enough, I'm still a little cold. Would you care to join me, Spock?"

Spock nods. He takes his seat at Jim's side. Jim turns, resting his legs over Spock's lap and rests his head on the vulcan's shoulder.

"I cherish thee, T'hy'la." Spock says.

Jim kisses Spock's cheek, "I love you too, Darling."

Spock smiles at his lover and buries his nose into his lover's hair. A part of him is impatient for the morning when his sweater will be returned. Then it will smell just like this. Like Jim.

Like home.