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Leonard leans against the wall, pretending Spock isn’t fidgeting. He’s sure Spock is embarrassed by it, so he’s trying to give the Vulcan some privacy. He’s never seen Spock fidget before, and it’s quite frankly making him uncomfortable. It goes on for a full minute, Spock just sitting at his desk and Leonard just leaning against the wall, neither of them properly looking at each other.
Leonard finally can’t take it anymore. “Just spit it out, Spock. What’s making you so goddamn human right now?”
Spock’s hands still and he meets Leonard’s eyes. “I confess some agitation, however unnecessary, around the proposal I have for you.”
“You’re going to ask me to marry you?” Leonard’s eyebrows rise. They’ve been dating for, what, two years now? Not unheard of, but they haven’t talked about marriage once.
“No,” Spock says so firmly Leonard can’t help but feel slightly offended. “Would you be opposed to acquiring mutual living quarters once we are on Earth?”
Leonard snorts. “You’re asking me to move in with you? What do you think I’m going to say? No?”
Spock tilts his head, an acknowledgement of his uncertainty.
“My god, Spock. Of course I’ll move in with you.” Leonard takes a few steps forward. “So long as there’s no Vulcan funny business about furniture.”
Spock stands and steps around his desk. “I am uncertain as to what you mean by that statement.”
“I mean,” Leonard says, staring into Spock’s eyes, “that you can’t replace our dining room table with meditation mats.”
“I had no such intentions,” Spock replies, placing his hand on Leonard’s hip.
Leonard makes a noise at the back of his throat but doesn’t move away from Spock.
Spock stays close to Leonard as he considers how to continue. He was uncertain whether Leonard would accept his proposal- for all their time together, Leonard’s moods remain something of a mystery. When he feels like obliging, there is little he will not do; when he feels… obstinate, there is little he will do.
“Vulcan funny business” is a typically reductive description, but Leonard did, in his own way, touch on an area of genuine difficulty. Vulcans do have certain rituals, certain procedures, for moving in together and arranging a first home. Spock doubts Leonard will be put off entirely by them, but Leonard can be contrary when it comes to Vulcan rituals.
His discovery of pon farr remains one of the more difficult areas of their relationship. Admittedly, Spock did not introduce him to it well- he was too nervous, their relationship too new- but the fact remains that Leonard gets thrown easily.
“There will be some traditions I must keep, however. That said, I am certain you are capable of handling them.”
Leonard gives him a dubious look, and Spock resists the urge to sigh.
“Leonard, please stop.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what you are doing,” Spock insists. “I can see your hackles rising already.”
“You leave my hackles out of this, bug boy.”
“Vulcans are descended from cats, not bugs.”
“Spock…”
“Yes, Leonard?”
“I’m fine. We’ll be fine. How bad can it be?”
Casting his mind back to the last time he and Leonard went shopping- it was for a mattress when Leonard’s proved insufficient for two, and calling it a trying time would be generous- Spock gives Leonard a weak smile.
“I am certain we will be fine."
Leonard would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t worried. Spock is the first person he’s actually cared about since Jocelyn, and for all their squabbling, he doesn’t want to fuck this up. He remembers how bad Joss had been about the fucking couch of all things, absolutely refusing to take any input from him.
“We have to agree on the couch,” he says suddenly.
“Of course, Leonard.” Spock’s eyebrows furrow slightly. “We ought to agree on every piece of furniture. Is the couch important to human culture in some way I am unaware of?”
Leonard shakes his head. “It’s just that Joss wouldn’t let me have a say in it when we moved in together.”
He doesn’t want to be thinking about his ex-wife right now. They haven’t even talked in over a year, and he’d like to keep it that way.
“I am sorry, Leonard.”
“It’s fine,” Leonard says, but reaches for Spock’s hand and holds it a little tighter than necessary.
Spock waits for Leonard to speak, knowing that he isn’t actually done talking. There’s that expectant tilt to his mouth that Spock knows so well.
Leonard breaks away and begins gesturing with his hands. “Goddamn it, Spock. I’m going to go out of my mind thinking about this. We have two weeks until we’re dirtside again, and now I’m just going to think about furniture and sharing a kitchen with your funky smelling spices and how I already know it’s going to be a no-shoes household-”
Spock shuts Leonard up by kissing him. Leonard actually tries to continue talking for a brief moment before relaxing into Spock.
When Spock pulls away, Leonard mutters something about Vulcan seduction, staring at his hand on Spock’s chest.
“Shoes inside the home carry a multitude of germs,” Spock says, but his eyes are smiling, so Leonard just shoves him slightly before pulling him in again.
Leonard is a worrier. Spock has known this since before they got together. He told himself he was used to it, and before he and Leonard agreed to move in together, he was.
He underestimated Leonard, it seems, as the worrying has intensified dramatically.
Leonard doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. Spock can see it in the hand wringing, can hear it in the sharp edge to Leonard’s words and taste it in the sweat that dampens Leonard’s brow.
It isn't anything Spock can't handle, but it does make something in the pit of his stomach turn hot with anger. Leonard mentioned feeling alienated by his ex-wife’s uninterest in his opinions on the couch. It must go deeper than that. It always does with Leonard.
Yet they cannot talk about it. Spock knows this from experience; there are some things that Leonard simply has to work through on his own. His ex-wife is foremost on that list.
Still, Spock isn't completely shut out. He can still provide comfort. He is naturally careful with his affection, but he is not miserly. And being able to support Leonard is easy. Spock can nose at Leonard’s neck and touch the pads of their fingers together and hold him close. They are simple acts, but they make Leonard smile.
Spock smiles to himself as he settles in for meditation the night before they agreed to begin shopping. It can't be that bad.
Finding an apartment was easy. Leonard and Spock had agreed the moment they saw the third place.
Now they’re standing in the furniture store, side by side, just staring at the aisles of replicated wood and metal.
Leonard slips his hand into Spock’s. Neither of them initiate physical contact often in public, but Leonard feels like they both need the other’s touch.
This shouldn’t be so hard, Leonard thinks as he looks at Spock.
“Where should we start? Beds?”
Spock hesitates for a moment before nodding. “It does not matter which piece of furniture we acquire first.”
Leonard doesn’t let go of Spock’s hand as they walk to the row of beds.
“I do not have a preference,” Spock says. “It is a place to sleep. It serves one function.”
Leonard raises an eyebrow as he runs a hand along a headboard. “Only one?”
Spock’s forehead wrinkles and then smoothes as he realizes what Leonard is saying. “You are aware of what I meant, Leonard.”
“Yeah, of course I am. But it’s fun teasing you.” Leonard turns to face Spock. “I want a headboard.”
“If that is what you wish.” Spock tilts his head slightly. “The second bed to your left has a headboard and is more aesthetically pleasing than this one.”
Leonard looks at the bed in question. Spock is right. Of course he is. But Leonard can’t hold a grudge against him about their bed, so he nods.
The bed was a good start, but their luck was bound to end. Spock just didn’t think it would end like this.
“If we’re going to get an ottoman,” Leonard grits out. “Why not get one that’s comfortable?”
Spock resists the urge to sigh; it will only inflame Leonard further. “I understand your preference for comfort, but, Leonard, this one-” he points to his choice of ottoman “-can store things. Surely you can see the utility of it.”
“Why would we need to store things in an ottoman, Spock?”
There are a number of things that can be stored in an ottoman. Spock is thinking mostly of Leonard’s clutter; as orderly as Leonard can be, he has a tendency toward emotional collecting. There are just too many things. If Spock could get Leonard to invest in a storage unit, that would be most preferable, but he knows Leonard will not- nor will he appreciate any attempt by Spock to rent one with his own funds.
“We could store the inflatable bed in it,” Spock explains, choosing the first explanation that isn’t the truth.
Leonard gives him a flat look. “We both know damn well that that ain’t what you were thinking.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Go on, then. Say what you meant.”
Spock would rather not. “Leonard-”
“No, really. I can handle it.”
Leonard most certainly cannot, but Spock wants the argument to be over. “You could store some of the tokens of thanks you have been given in it. Your desk is covered with them, so you never use it. It would be logical-”
He stops when he sees Leonard drawing himself up. Instead of snapping at Spock, though, he simply turns and walks away, leaving Spock feeling lost and bereft.
Leonard knows Spock does not understand why he keeps his thank yous on his desk. This is not the first time Spock has made a comment about the untidiness of the Leonard’s “unnecessary” habit. There are a couple of gifts that are ten years old sitting on his desk. They have gathered through the years, as he saved more lives and knitted more bones.
His patients are grateful in the way they know how, and Leonard is not going to dismiss their gestures as anything but meaningful. It grounds him, after a long day of paperwork, to be reminded of why he does this. It’s emotional, and he doesn’t even want to try to explain it to Spock.
Spock once threw out a card a child made for him after he rescued her from a tar pit on Tevel IX.
So he walks away to gather himself. He does not want to fight with Spock in the middle of a furniture store. He does not want to squabble about anything meaningful. Their fights are meant to be for fun, a mental exercise of sorts. This- this is Spock not understanding a human emotion.
It’s rare for their arguments to devolve into real fights, but every time, it’s so fast Leonard can hardly catch his breath. He never wants to hurt Spock, but both of them have quick and bitter tongues, and it’s inevitable at times.
Leonard stands by the desks, trying to regulate his breathing. He’s using a fucking meditation technique Spock taught him. He can see his boyfriend, still standing there by the ottomans, looking forlorn, of all things. Goddamn it, he loves Spock too much to stay angry for too long.
He walks back over and stands a few feet away from Spock, who watches him with questioning in his posture.
Leonard returns not long after he left. Spock watches him warily, uncertain what his return will herald. More fighting? That seems unlikely from the weariness he reads in Leonard’s face, but their fights never end this quickly.
Yet Leonard is a man capable of great change in a short amount of time. Spock ought to know that by now.
He does know it, logically, but that doesn’t keep him from blinking in surprise when Leonard reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around Spock’s wrist.
“We’re very different, you and I,” he says, his voice pitched low.
Spock nods but keeps quiet. Leonard is working himself up to something, and Spock is curious to find out what.
“You know what? Let’s get the usable one,” Leonard continues. “You’re right- if we’re gonna get one, we might as well get the one that will make the place less cluttered.”
“That is the logical decision,” Spock says, approving, “but the wrong one. We will get the comfortable one. Now, let us continue onto the next item- a display case.”
Leonard frowns. “Wait. What? That isn’t on the list. And I thought you wanted the soft one?”
“The case was not originally on the list, true, but that was an oversight I have corrected.”
“All right, but what would need a display case for- Oh.” Leonard’s eyes widen. “For my stuff?”
“For the items you treasure,” Spock corrects. “You will not fill it with your socks.”
“I thought holding onto them wasn’t logical.”
“It is not,” Spock admits. “But it is more illogical for me to impose logic on a being as emotional as you. True logic demands that I accept your nature and react accordingly, not that I attempt to make you into my image- thus, we buy your choice of ottoman and invest in a place to display your thank yous.”
Leonard smiles and slides his hand down Spock’s arm until the pads of his fingers are brushing Spock’s in a sweet kiss. “You’re just as bad as I am,” he says grinning widely.
“I am no such thing.”
“Argue all you want, hobgoblin. I know your secret.”
Leonard knows a great many of Spock’s secrets, and Spock, for reasons he cannot logic his way into understanding, finds that reassuring.
He threads his fingers through Leonard’s and allows himself the ghost of a smile. “Come on, then. We will have to decide where we put the case- it will not be going in our bedroom- but more importantly, you must decide which wood you would like. Personally, I find a darker wood will be more attractive with the color scheme we discussed earlier…”
Leonard stands on the ladder, sweat pooling in the small of his back. He’s not sure exactly what it is about painting that’s so physically exhausting, but he and Spock both wanted their bedroom to be this specific shade of dark blue, so he’s suffering through it.
Spock, damn him, remains sweat free. It’s maybe the only thing Leonard resents about Vulcans, their lack of sweat.
Their furniture is currently in boxes in the living room, waiting to be assembled. Neither Spock nor Leonard wanted to deal with maneuvering ladders around sheet-draped furniture, and they’re only repainting their bedroom and half the living room, so it’s not that big a deal.
At least, that’s what Leonard tells himself before their couch is in sixteen parts on the floor. The instruction padd is cryptic, as always. Spock even confesses to some confusion regarding the position of the couch legs.
Spock looks at him with what Leonard knows is his approximation of tenderness. “Perhaps we would be better served by returning to this task at a later time.”
Leonard pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m getting a headache. I think you’ve actually got a good idea there, Spock.”
“It is difficult to rank ideas, as they are largely subjective, Leonard.”
“Shut up, Spock. I complimented you. Take it and run.”
Spock looks like he’s about to start one of his speeches on his grudge against colloquialisms, but Leonard gives him a glare.
“Thank you, Leonard. Perhaps we ought to assemble the bed instead.”
Leonard groans slightly as he stands up and his knees adjust from their crumpled position. “What, you don’t want to sleep on a mattress two inches off the floor for the rest of our time on Earth?”
“Four point five.”
Leonard just stares at Spock. “The thickness of the mattress is irrelevant. I want to sleep on a real bed. Our bed, that we picked out together.”
“Very well,” Spock says, joining Leonard on two feet.
Sometimes Spock forgets that Leonard is smaller than he is; his boyfriend is so full of vigor, he often seems larger than Spock.
Tonight, Spock is reminded of how small- and fragile- Leonard is.
While the paint is drying, they’ve been forced to sleep outside their bedroom. Leonard floated the idea of going to a hotel, but there was no need, given the paint they chose is non-toxic, merely smelly. With no other choices, they wound up curled together on the couch.
Leonard is on the inside, his face pressed into the back of the couch, his heels just resting on the arm of the couch. Spock’s legs are longer, so his feet hang over the edge. Their heads are on the same level, the two of them sharing a pillow, and Spock delicately inches closer.
He likes the heat Leonard gives off in his sleep; it’s as inviting as a waking Leonard is not. Fortunately for Spock, Leonard is a deep sleeper and doesn’t stir as Spock snuggles against him and throws an arm over his waist.
Once, Spock had thought this would be impossible. Leonard was too explosive, too emotional, ever to find contentment with Spock. Yet here he is now, drooling on Spock’s pillow, wearing a worn pair of Spock’s boxers, living under the same roof.
Someday- someday soon, as far as lifespans go- Leonard will die.
In the day, the thought seems impossible; Leonard is made of fire and light. How could he cease to be?
But in the dark of the night, when he’s sleeping soundly, Leonard’s humanity feels inescapable. He exists in a state of delicate balance; his body could fall apart at any time, its many parts simply ceasing to function. Even if he were to live his full lifespan, his delicate surgeon’s hands will eventually fall still. His eyes will close for the last time.
The thought makes Spock’s heart hurt. For all Leonard’s illogical ways, he is the best human Spock knows. The world will turn a bit grayer when he departs.
But that won’t be for a long time, not if Spock can help it. For now, Leonard is here, and Spock can slip his hand under the hem of his shirt, brush his thumb over the wiry hair on Leonard’s belly and feel the gentle rise and fall of Leonard’s breaths. It’s a good feeling, a reassuring one, and Spock feels himself slide into sleep.
They assemble the bed in the morning, after brushing their teeth hip to hip in the too small bathroom and shaving- Spock does; Leonard prefers stubble and lets his grow for a couple of days at a time.
The bed is easier than the couch for some unknown reason. Leonard mutters about it for the hour it takes, while Spock pretends he isn’t smiling at him.
They heave the mattress on and stare at their bed, their hands on their hips.
Leonard turns to look at Spock after a moment. “We didn’t get sheets, did we?”
Spock raises an eyebrow. “I believe that is the one thing we neglected to purchase.”
They go to the store together, despite Spock’s insistence that Leonard is perfectly capable of selecting sheets without him.
“Of course I am,” Leonard says. “But you’re going to be sleeping on them, too, and I know you’re allergic to a poly-blend, but I can’t remember which one, so you’re coming. I do not want to be treating you for anaphylactic shock the first time we sleep in our new bed.”
Spock nods, and Leonard feels slightly triumphant, even though it’s such a little thing, dragging Spock to the store with him.
It turns out Spock is allergic to the most common poly-blend, of course he is.
“So we have exactly three options,” Leonard says grumpily, because hell if he’ll actually admit it, but he actually gives a shit what their sheets look like. They had just been white on the Enterprise , standard issue, but he prefers some color.
Spock stares at Leonard. “I have no preference.”
“Bullshit. You always have a preference. So tell me, do you want dark green, blue plaid, or light pink?”
Spock reaches his hand out and hovers over the packages for a moment before settling on the pink set.
Leonard arches an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you went for pink.”
Spock matches his expression, and if Leonard didn’t know better, he’d think Spock was mocking him.
“I find it aesthetically pleasing,” Spock says.
Leonard really wishes Spock had a bigger vocabulary. “Big words mean nothing if you use the same five ones over and over again,” he mumbles.
Spock just looks at him. Leonard knows he heard him, because Spock can hear everything with those damn ears of his, but Spock doesn’t reply, just turns his mouth upwards ever so slightly and starts walking to the front of the store.
The bed falls apart the moment Leonard drops onto it.
Spock doesn’t pretend not to find it funny.
Leonard glares up at him. “I hate you,” he hisses as he drags himself out of the wreckage.
“You do not,” Spock says brightly.
“Shut up.”
“I do not think I will.”
Spock leans over, offering his hands in reconciliation. Leonard glares at them for a moment before he takes them and, getting his feet under him, hauls himself upright. Spock doesn’t let him step away after, instead using his grip on Leonard to tug him into a hug.
“You are more than I ever dreamed,” he says against Leonard’s ear. “All my life I did not believe I would find happiness as my mother and father did, but with you, I have found it.”
Leonard coughs, but he doesn’t shake Spock away. For a long time, he leans his head against Spock’s shoulder and lets himself be held.
“After Jocelyn, I didn’t think I’d be happy again,” he admits, his voice soft. “I figured she broke something in me, and I’d grow old and lonely. I damn well didn’t think I’d find happiness with a green-blooded know-it-all like you. But I did. I don’t know how you fixed it, but you did. Damn rude, if you ask me, rooting around in a man’s chest without him knowing.”
Spock tightens his grip. “There was nothing to fix. You were whole when I found you. I have merely had the honor of reminding you of this.”
Leonard smiles up at him for a long moment. “Listen to you. Who’s the romantic now?”
“You. It is always you, Leonard.”
Spock doesn’t only mean who the romantic is, and from the kiss Leonard steals a moment later, he knows Leonard knows that, too.
Spock helps Leonard put the bed back together after he finds the missing screw underneath the dresser. Leonard can’t stop looking at him, though, and pinches his thumb in the bed frame.
“Damn it,” he says, and sucks on his thumb. “Stop looking so pretty, Spock. You’re distracting me.”
“My physical appearance has remained unchanged for some years now, Leonard. If you are unable to concentrate on the task at hand due to it, I suggest you allow me to take over.”
“I will not,” Leonard grouses. “Now hold up the slats for a minute.”
Spock obliges, his arms barely tensing under the weight of the replicated wood. He rarely uses his strength, always careful to keep from hurting Leonard, but Leonard just thinks it’s hot.
He says as much after the mattress is reinstated.
“I need to find you more things to lift,” Leonard says, not quite meeting Spock’s eyes. “It’s sexy.”
“You find my strength arousing?” Spock is just looking at Leonard curiously.
“Yes,” Leonard replies. He’s fucking blushing and god damn it he should have just kept his mouth shut. It’s not like he and Spock haven’t been naked around each other a hundred times, not like they haven’t discussed their likes and dislikes.
But this? This feels strangely sacred. Leonard never thought he would have a partner who would be able to pick him up. It’s not like Spock has; he is always careful to restrain his strength around humans, especially Leonard, who he cares deeply for. Leonard knows this, has sensed it when they meld, but he has kept this to himself. His eyes flit to Spock’s lips.
“I’d like it if you used it on me some time,” Leonard admits, and stares at his feet.
Spock’s feet step into his view and Leonard looks up to meet his eyes.
“I do not wish to hurt you.”
“I know that, Spock. But I want you to.”
Spock is standing so close Leonard can feel his breath on his lips. “You want me to cause you physical pain?”
Two years, and Leonard has never once asked for this. They live together now, though. They have a couch and an ottoman and a replicator, one of the fancy ones that’s programmed for some Vulcan dishes.
“Within reason,” Leonard says a little breathlessly.
Spock drops onto his back on their bed. Leonard is still sitting in his lap, a droplet of sweat trickling down his heaving chest. In the low light, he looks like a different sort of creature, one made of desire and Spock’s dreams, rather than the man he truly is.
Reaching up a hand, Spock swipes away the droplet of sweat.
“You are all right, Leonard?”
Leonard nods, still too breathless to speak properly. He does reach down with one hand and clasp Spock’s, fumbling with it until he can press their fingers together. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his lips swollen and glistening.
“Better than,” he rasps.
“We need to clean up,” Spock points out reluctantly. They’ve fallen asleep without getting rid of the mess, and as much as that had satisfied something old and primal in him, it only made for a bigger ordeal in the morning.
Leonard sighs and tips himself over onto his side, pulling off Spock with a grunt. “Go on, then. Christen one of our new wash cloths.”
Spock nods, more to himself than to Leonard, and forces himself to get up.
In the bathroom, he wets a cloth and quickly cleans himself up. He tosses that one in the laundry basket, then wets another, which he brings with him into the bedroom.
Leonard is already lying on his side for him.
“Thank you,” Spock says quietly as he bends over and swipes the cloth over Leonard’s skin.
“Thank you ,” Leonard says, just to be contrary.
Spock considers giving him a friendly smack, then discards the idea. He doesn’t want to get Leonard interested in something Spock can’t finish. Although, this new knowledge is interesting- and not a little gratifying. Sometimes he wonders if Leonard would love him more easily if he were human.
Then Leonard will say something, usually offhand, that will remind Spock that that simply isn’t how Leonard is. He chose Spock with his eyes wide open.
Finished cleaning up, Spock walks back into the bathroom, tosses the wash cloth away, then returns to the bedroom and Leonard, who has burrowed under the sheets.
“Took you long enough.”
Spock rolls his eyes. “Can I get you anything?”
“You can get your ass into bed with me,” comes the sour reply.
Spock is more than happy to oblige- in a moment. “You know I must meditate first,” he reminds Leonard.
“Hurry up, then, would you?”
“Of course.”
The asenoi is not far from the bed- Spock finds Leonard’s presence calming- and he can’t help but think of his parents. He found them meditating together more than once. When he was little, he saw his father light the asenoi and beckon his wife over, and Spock’s mother had smiled and sat down beside him.
Spock can’t envision Leonard meditating, but that is little matter. They have their own routine.
The asenoi being lit for the first time is a blessing, one honored by soft, ancient words Spock has rarely spoken before, and as he takes his place on the floor, he feels a gentle hum of rightness deep under his skin.
This is good, he thinks. This is all I could want.