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Jim presses a rag to his bleeding forehead and sighs for the 5th time in the last five minutes. He leans back against his desk, shifting his weight onto his palms. He’s trying to pay attention to his husband’s lecture. He really is.
“...I can not fathom what possessed you to think it was logical to attempt to break up a fight between a Klingon and a Vulcan who are both less than half your age. Surely you would have considered that you may have been able to match both of them in your prime, and Jim, while your spirit has not dimmed, you have not been thirty nearly three decades. If you had called-”
“Spock-”
Spock ignores him dark eyes slitting a fraction.
“-the proper authorities, you could have dissolved the problem without injuring yourself. You must-”
“Spock-”
“-be more careful. The purpose of a ground position is to avoid unnecessary risk, you-”
Enough is enough.
“Spock! I appreciate the reprimanding, but can we please go home now?” Jim sinks further back on the desk, fighting the pulse of his headache. He closes his eyes, “Please.”
Footsteps pad over the metal floor with quite clinks. They stop with a tap of Spock’s thigh against Jim’s knee.
One warm hand cups over his own grip on the rag and another softly slides up and down his cheek. Jim wants very much to be annoyed but its rather difficult when the touch is so soothing.
“Let me see,” Spock orders, but his tone is decidedly more gentle than it was before.
“I’m fine I-”
“T’hy’la,” Jim is kissed in the center of the patch of skin between his eyebrows. He peels open an eye to find two very worried brown ones staring back at him, “Let me help.”
It is unfairly sentimental.
Jim sighs for the 6th time, dropping his hand from under Spock’s and gesturing with a flick of an open palm. Spock prods the purpling flesh surrounding a red line that’s slashed down the right side of Jim’s hairline to his temple. He finds a particularly tender spot and Jim hisses. Lips are grazed very lightly to the area in apology, and through their bond some of the pain is sucked away.
“You do not have a concussion, fortunately, though in all probability you should be more seriously injured. If you will allow me to take you to medical-”
Jim shakes his head. He regrets it immediately, pain bouncing around the walls of his skull.
“Let’s just go home ok? We still have that dermal regenerator Bones lent us and I’ll let you use it on me and tell me how illogical I was. Again.”
It’s Spock’s turn to sigh. He helps Jim off the desk and tugs him into a hug, softly pressing Jim’s face into his shoulder with long fingers that knead through his hair.
“I should not have been so hard on you. I know it it is not in your nature to remain idle when a situation becomes dangerous. You’re propensity to find trouble where none previously existed is not something I enjoy thinking of. I was merely worried.”
Jim hooks his arms around Spock’s back and nuzzles into his chest.
“I know you were, love. But I’m alright. A handful of squabbling students isn't going to be the death of me,” Spock stiffens, and Jim internally scolds himself for his poor phrasing. Amanda died two months ago, and Spock has been increasingly protective since. He circles his thumb around one of the knobs of Spock’s neck, “I’ll try to be more careful.”
Spock dips in his chin into Jim’s shoulder, inhaling.
“That would be most welcome.”
They stand like that for a little while, just clinging to each other. Jim pulls away first, leaning up (it amuses his bondmate to no end that Jim has to go on his toes to kiss him, Jim can still hear traces of silent laughter in their link after 20 years) to peck Spock on mouth.
“Come on, I think some plomeek soup and a few rounds of chess are in order,” Jim locks their fingers together as the walk out of the building and turns back to Spock, a mischievous tweak to his grin, “Among other things.”
Spock gives him one of those tiny smiles that he only ever allows Jim to see.
“An excellent idea, Admiral.”
Jim laughs, squeezing into the hover cab and reluctantly letting Spock nudge him into his lap. He borrows into the hold and nips the corner of Spock’s jaw when the driver isn't looking.
“I am inclined to agree, Ambassador.”
Spock’s arms tighten around him.
“Jim?”
“Yes?”
“I think it is fair you know you are always in your prime to me.”
Jim chuckles, absently toying with the tip of Spock’s ear.
“Sap. But the feeling is mutual.”
Spock kisses his head and they fall into silence, watching the city streak by.