Spock’s gaze was fixed, unwavering, locked on the console in front of him as data scrolled by in Vulcan script. His fingers danced across the interface with controlled precision.

And then came the weight.

Jim leaned in from behind, chin braced on Spock’s shoulder, arms draped around him like it was the most natural thing in the universe.

Spock did not move. Spock did not flinch.

He did blink. Once. Slowly.

“Jim,” Spock said flatly, “I am attempting to recalibrate our long-range sensors.”

Jim hummed, clearly unbothered. “Mmm. I’m attempting to see how long it takes before you snap.”

“That is not a productive use of your time.”

“Neither is running a diagnostic in the middle of gamma shift,” Jim replied, a smile audible in his voice. “You could be in bed right now. With me.”

Spock exhaled through his nose. “Captain—”

“Say that again,” Jim teased, eyes closed, a grin stretching wider against Spock’s neck. “I like it when you call me that.”

“I will not indulge your juvenile antics.”

“But you are.” He tapped a finger against Spock’s hand. “You didn’t push me away. So illogical.”

Spock’s mouth twitched. He was silent for a beat longer than usual.

“…I am exercising restraint.”

“You like me.”

“I am tolerating you.”

“You loooove me.”

“I am considering a tactical stun.”

“Still counts as attention.” Jim smirked, finally letting go to stretch. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to your Vulcan mumbo jumbo.”

Spock straightened his shoulders and returned to the console. “It is not—‘mumbo jumbo.’ It is a level-four systems recalibration.”

Jim paused in the doorway, grinning like he’d just stolen a star. “Exactly. Mumbo jumbo.”

Spock did not turn. But the tips of his ears…

Yes, those were definitely flushed green.