Pairing : Spirk, Spork, KS, whatever…

Rating : K+

Disclaimer : I don't own anything, Reboot Universe.

Unspoken words

There's a lot of unspoken words between you.

But in any way, you can always understand him.

It's a matter of days, weeks, months.

Almost years.

You watch him raises his eyebrow, and you know, you know, in fonction of how high, how curved or how frowned (as much as you can see a frown on a Vulcan's face), if he's upset, angry or satisfied.

He doesn't say anything about how he's feeling (because anyway, he's not suposed to feel anything), but it doesn't matter. You just… Know.

So you know, when he's looking at you in the dark of your quaters, his heavy, browns, beautiful and smart eyes shining with something he would not indulge himself with it usually, all the unspoken words that fly between you, slide on the pillows and sheets, curl around your face and ears.

You smile, and raise your hand. You caress his face, and he doesn't flinch. He just lean into your palm, and a small sigh escape his throat.

You don't need him to talk.

You just need to watch him.

And it's beautiful, all those little flickering expression barely brushing over his face, those that he won't aknowledge until you're all alone, just the two of you, and he's under you, breathing hard and moaning, his hands clutching at your shoulders with bruising force, the usual Vulcan's bruising force, or ghosting over your back, or sliding into your hair.

You smile when his eyes are showing far more than he want to.

You're kissing every subtle movements of his mouth or of his eyebrows.

So many unspoken words, but so well understand.

He looks at you in the dark, and his eyes are lightly glowing in the dark of your room.

Sometimes he tries. Very hard. You don't say to him that you don't need it, it's okay baby, I got the picture, just because you're a cocky bastard and you enjoy watching him try something that he's unsure of how it's done. You enjoy watching him on a very slippery ground.

But each time, you cut his effort, when you see it's becoming too much for him. Most of the time, he barely said one word when you save him. The big fight with himself was before he had even opened his mouth.

« Jim… »

You press a hand to his cheekbones and the other in his so pretty, so soft, so messy hair (Just for the night). You smile a little wider.

A silence grow between you, and the unspoken words are here again.

And then you whisper :

« I love you too. »