Leonard likes to watch Jim sleep. It's a habit developed back when they'd first become roommates, even before they'd become, in Jim's words complete with audible capitalizations and quotes every single damn time, "Epic Best Buds." Way the hell before they'd found themselves in something that, at odd moments during the day Leonard will admit maybe, possibly approaches something resembling a committed relationship.

Except not. Because those two words strung together still have the power to strike fear into his gun shy and deliberately cynical heart.

So, he and Jim have sex. With each other. And maybe they spend most of their off duty time together. And, yeah, okay, maybe they go on their shore leaves together. That doesn't necessarily mean they're in a 'committed relationship'.

But, anyway, he likes to watch Jim sleep.

Because, when he's awake, Jim Kirk never stops moving. He's this cyclone of energy masked by a charming grin that fools you into thinking pretty much whatever he wants you to think, even as bold blue eyes are taking in every damn thing, transmitting to a brain which processes at warp factor nine, making connections and coming to conclusions when everyone else is just trying to figure out what the damn question is.

So, yeah, Jim's got a lot of energy.

And being given the Enterprise hasn't so much settled that energy as given Jim a focus for it. Like all that raw restlessness and burning intelligence is now being channeled through the lens of ship and crew, transmuting into something pure and brilliant that can save planets and shape history to come. It's amazing and—though Leonard's never planning to admit it aloud—even awe inspiring to watch.

But, anyhow. It can be exhausting being best friends with a force of nature.

Which is partly why Leonard likes to watch Jim sleep. It's one of the few occasions, other than the sure as hell not restful times when Jim's laid up in Sickbay that the younger man actually stops.

Like now.

Jim is sprawled out across the bed sleeping as hard as he does everything else in life while Leonard sits next to him, propped up by pillows, pretending to read the latest medical journals. If Leonard's eyes keep straying to the silent, still form by his side until finally the padd lays forgotten in his lap; if he thinks to himself that there's something adorable about how Jim sleeps on his stomach and snuffles and unconsciously reaches out for contact against Leonard's body, well that's his own goddamn business after all. And if Leonard's hand itches to reach out and run fingers through Kirk's sleep mussed hair, well, so the fuck what? He can tousle Jim Kirk's hair if he goddamn wants to.

And so he does, reaching out to pet the dark blond, regulation short hair, the strands ridiculously soft to the touch. And then he feels more than sees the minute shift in Jim's body and he looks into sleepy blue eyes, still brilliant in color but somehow softer than usual as they blink up at him.

"You petting me?" Jim asks, voice scratchy and bemused.

"No," Leonard replies in what is clearly a bold faced lie, since his fingers are still carding through Jim's hair. He watches as Jim just smiles at him, sweet and sunny as a lazy summer Georgia day.

And, if something turns over in Leonard's gun shy and deliberately cynical heart at that look, at the pure happy affection in Jim's eyes and the curve of his lips, well fuck it, it's his own goddamn heart and he can do what he wants with it.

END