The Light Lingers
Title: The Light Lingers
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Rating: G
Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Summary: Spock finally comes home.
Words: 240
Note: Written for the second surprise bonus round at st_respect.
Spock comes home at dusk, when the sun of Earth has already set but light still remains and the sky is red, like the sky on Vulcan. Leonard is lying on the couch where he must have settled for a brief nap only to fall into a deep sleep instead, as happened often when he worked too hard. He always asked too much of himself, even in his final years, when his body was already failing him. “What’s the use of a few more years,” he used to ask, “if I do nothing with them?”
Unlike the light of the sun, the memory does not linger. Spock wanders over to the couch and gently caresses his mate’s face; fascinated, almost reverent, as if he hadn’t touched him in many years.
After a while, Leonard stirs and opens his eyes, impossibly blue in the fading light. “Spock,” he says, giving him a bright smile that feels like a gift to Spock, incredibly precious for he has missed it for far too long. “You’re late.”
“Something kept me,” Spock explains, though he cannot remember nor care what it was. “I’m here now.”
“So you are.” Leonard leans in to kiss him. Then he buries his face in Spock’s shoulder and breathes out slowly in what might be happiness or regret or relief.
Spock circles his arms around Leonard’s lithe body and holds him close.
Outside, the last daylight fades.
February 18, 2010
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Rating: G
Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Summary: Spock finally comes home.
Words: 240
Note: Written for the second surprise bonus round at st_respect.
Spock comes home at dusk, when the sun of Earth has already set but light still remains and the sky is red, like the sky on Vulcan. Leonard is lying on the couch where he must have settled for a brief nap only to fall into a deep sleep instead, as happened often when he worked too hard. He always asked too much of himself, even in his final years, when his body was already failing him. “What’s the use of a few more years,” he used to ask, “if I do nothing with them?”
Unlike the light of the sun, the memory does not linger. Spock wanders over to the couch and gently caresses his mate’s face; fascinated, almost reverent, as if he hadn’t touched him in many years.
After a while, Leonard stirs and opens his eyes, impossibly blue in the fading light. “Spock,” he says, giving him a bright smile that feels like a gift to Spock, incredibly precious for he has missed it for far too long. “You’re late.”
“Something kept me,” Spock explains, though he cannot remember nor care what it was. “I’m here now.”
“So you are.” Leonard leans in to kiss him. Then he buries his face in Spock’s shoulder and breathes out slowly in what might be happiness or regret or relief.
Spock circles his arms around Leonard’s lithe body and holds him close.
Outside, the last daylight fades.
February 18, 2010