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There’s a bear outside the guesthouse where they’re staying and it’s making Bones distinctly uncomfortable. Spock has been studying it from the downstairs window seat for over an hour, leaving Leonard to tiptoe around hoping it doesn’t see either of them through the glass and come crashing in. It’s here for the trash, of course, not Spock’s equivalent of a spleen, but that doesn’t calm his nerves. The bear takes their leftovers from the bin, disappointed by Spock’s vegetarian habits, and leaves them to it, seconds before Bones’ nerves are fried for good.
“I don’t know why I even agreed to come with you to this place anyway,” he growls, despite this technically being his idea, and the fact that he’s stayed here before. Twice. There were no bears back then, though.
Spock blinks back a witty reply and says nothing, looking curiously out of the window should the offending mammal return.
The silence draws more babbling out of Bones, like moisture from a human’s eyes in the cold, deadly vacuum of space. “Don’t look for it dammit, we don’t want it to come back! I’m sick of bein’ held hostage in my own home!”
Spock turns his sardonic gaze to him. “I trust you are aware that your reaction was unnecessary and melodramatic? And that contrary to being held hostage, we are in fact able to be beamed out of here at a moment’s notice. Black bears are considered a vulnerable species, and I am forced to say that we literally do want it to come back.”
Leonard just scowls at him. The bastard looks satisfied, as though that little speech was somehow funny or original. There’s something very right about this that takes the bite out of Leonard’s bitterness. Something about being here, alone in this place with Spock, worrying about bears with the Enterprise ready to whisk them somewhere new as soon as they get bored.
It’s the first shore leave he’s not spent with his daughter in forever, but he manages not to feel too guilty. He’ll see her another time, and she could get to know Spock. For now he feels like he's on honeymoon, with this annoying yet beloved sack of green blood and sarcasm.
He sits down in front of the window next to Spock, and leans to kiss the place where the Vulcan’s neck joins his shoulder. Spock doesn’t reciprocate, but nor does he pull away. Later they would have reserved Vulcan kisses in quiet moments, but for now, everything is exactly as it should be.
“Still don’t know how I could love a green blooded asshole like you.” He says stubbornly, his reluctance not showing in the hand that sits loosely on Spock’s far hip in a sloppy embrace, caressing the smooth skin through the material.
Spock looks at him in the mirthful condescension he draws upon for many a debate. “I shall take that in the spirit it is meant, as you are clearly incapable of honesty without the use of some infantile defence mechanism, and tell you that I love you also, Doctor.”
He presses his side into Spock’s, kneeling awkwardly to look out of the window at the rugged Canadian forest, and feeling the slightly cooler temperature of the Vulcan body through Spock’s soft cardigan. He looks good in his grey off-duty clothes. Civilian, a world away from the dangers they faced the rest of the time.
Yes, this is where Leonard wants to be, and right now, he’d give up every other star they’d ever seen just to stay sat in this window, watching the light from this sun playing against the arch of Spock’s brow.