Notes: Established K/S relationship. Warning for Jim's filthy mouth. A simple oneshot.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek 2009, and I make no profit from this work.

"Half-breed? Half-breed? Who the mother-fucking-fuck does he think he is!" Jim bellowed.

Spock watched in vague amusement. Jim was pacing the length of their quarters, back and forth, like a caged animal. And raging like one as well. Jim was, to use the human expression, 'spitting tacks.' And over quite an irrelevant matter, in Spock's opinion.

"It's completely fucking intolerable!" Jim shouted, tugging at his own hair as he paced. "I can't believe Starfleet would use such a complete fucking bigot! I've never heard such xenophobic bullshit in my life, and fuck, I consider Bones to be my best friend!"

If Spock were human, he would be, he was quite sure, rolling his eyes by this point. Though, of course, the problem arose from his not being human, so then there would be nothing to roll his eyes about. In any case, he was witnessing Jim's (admittedly powerful) temper rising over something that truly wasn't worth the bother or the energy, and the decibel level was becoming quite disturbing.

"Jim..."

"I'm sending a formal fucking complaint to Nogura - this is fucking bullshit! I can't believe what he was saying - did he think he could get away with it? I'll have him discredited so fucking fast his head will spin!" Jim roared.

"Jim."

Spock rose from his position on his meditation mats, and caught Jim as he turned for his next lap. He removed the man's hands from his hair, and drew them down to their waists to prevent any more strange acts of self-harm.

"Oh, don't you give me that look!" Jim seethed.

Preventing motion, it seemed, was not going to be the entirety of solving the issue at hand, it seemed.

"I am not 'giving you a look', Jim."

"Oh yes you are," Jim snapped. "That one that says I'm being illogical and a fucking idiot about this - well you can just cut it out. I'm not being fucking stupid about this. This is a fucking outrage, and if that slimy little c-"

"Jim," Spock interrupted coolly. "Not only does shouting at the walls of our quarters serve no purpose, but there is no reason to be doing so in the first place."

Jim went a deep, angry red, and Spock got the impression that he'd said the wrong thing.

"No reason?" Jim snarled, like a feral sehlat. "No goddamn reason? Were you even listening to half the things he called you? Even a quarter? No reason my ass, Spock! I wanted to smash his smug, greasy face in about five seconds in - and you obviously weren't listening to the things Scotty was muttering at the bastard either, were you?"

"I heard exactly what he said," Spock replied. "However distasteful, his verbal..."

"Distasteful," Jim said flatly. "Yes, because that's what any insult is to you, isn't it? Distasteful. Jesus Christ, Spock, you don't even feel annoyed by the son of a bitch! Why can't you crawl out from under that Vulcan shell and grow some fucking self-respect, damn it? Why can't you...?"

"Jim!" Spock snapped. He snapped. He had to admit it - the vocalisation of Jim's name was an outburst, only half-designed to stop the ranting, and mostly not designed at all.

It worked. Jim stopped, then suddenly swallowed and winced, as if realising what he'd just said.

"Spock, I..."

"I think it is best if I leave you to your...emotional outbursts," Spock cut him off. It was illogical, the feeling of hurt that had bubbled up at Jim's angry demand, but it existed all the same, and he found himself concerned that remaining would only escalate the situation. "If you require me, I shall be in the labs."

And with that, he was gone.

Jim woke from an uneasy, guilty doze when the doors to their shared quarters hissed open, and Spock stepped in, shrouded in darkness.

"Lights, forty percent," Jim croaked, then cleared his throat.

He'd gone down to the gym to beat the hell out of a punchbag, imagining that smug fucker's face on it, and then had the longest sonic shower in the history of long sonic showers. He was pretty sure that his knuckles were bruised, and he'd sent off that promised complaint to Nogura, and his anger had subsided.

To leave behind the guilt.

"I did not mean to wake you," Spock said, and Jim left the bed.

"I was waiting for you," he said, walking right up to the Vulcan and throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. Spock's uniform carried the slightly sterile smell of the biochemistry labs, and the momentary stiffness in his muscles relaxed a fraction when Jim squeezed. "I'm sorry."

"There is no need for..."

"I'm sorry," Jim repeated firmly. "I didn't mean it. I just lashed out - you know what I'm like with putting my foot in my mouth. I'm sorry."

After a moment, Spock's arms came to rest about Jim's waist, and gently return the embrace.

"I just..." Jim let out a sigh. "I hate it, you know. That whenever someone comes out with that kind of shit about you, you just stand there and take it. You don't even get angry. I hate that - that you just...you just take it, like it's true, like it's not worth arguing."

"Jim..."

"Because, God, I get angry about it. That they just keep doing it, like childhood bullies, and you don't do anything to stop them, and you're so fucking brilliant, and..."

"Jim," the squeeze around his abdomen slowly stopped Jim's outburst, and he grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry."

"You must understand, Jim, that I do not react to such barbs because they elicit no response."

"What?" Jim blinked. That seemed like a pretty obvious line.

"If you were to repeat, in seriousness, to me what was said in the transporter room today, I assure you that I would most definitely experience a negative emotional response," Spock said, his voice completely matter-of-fact. "You are my bondmate; it is your opinion, and yours alone, that is by definition itself important. The opinions of others are only important if there are other factors involved - their expertise, or my regard for the individual. You, as a bondmate, hold power in your opinions regardless of their content."

Jim leaned back to look the Vulcan in the eye.

"So...it doesn't bother you because that's not what I think?" he asked quietly.

"Correct."

Jim examined the face before him, before breaking into a small smile and pressing a chaste kiss to Spock's lips. "So what I said hurt, but not what he said?"

"Again, that is correct."

"I'm still sorry."

"Your apology is unnecessary, but accepted."

"I'm still going to go off on one," Jim warned him. "If I hear people saying that kind of shit about you, I'm still going to lose it. Just so you know."

"I harbour no illusions to the contrary," Spock said dryly, and Jim, chuckling, kissed him again.

"You know," Jim said, lips millimetres apart, "we did technically just have a fight."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Well, according to traditional human relationships, we need to have make-up sex now," Jim said, and grinned wickedly. "Come and observe some traditions with me?"

Spock said nothing, but allowed himself to be pulled by the hands towards - and onto - their bed.

"How about," Jim offered, crawling up the prone body and working his hands under the uniform shirt, "I prove that fuck-up wrong about that line he had about Vulcans and their lack of passion?"

Spock raised the other eyebrow, and flipped them expertly so that Jim was on the bottom, pinned under the Vulcan's greater weight and strength.

"Being the half-Vulcan," he said, "surely that is my duty?"

Jim's grin faded into a smile, and he pulled Spock's face down for another kiss. "He's still wrong, you know. About all of that shit he said. It's all wrong."

Spock's lips twitched into the kiss, before he broke it off to carefully establish a hickey on Jim's collarbone. It tingled, and went straight to Jim's groin, and Spock's final words before effectively stripping them and getting down to business didn't really help.

"I am...gratified that you think so."