It was unlike Spock to be late, though he had tried everything he could not to be, but it hadn’t been able to be helped, and so, consequently, as he rushed home, his anxiety level had, as his husband would say, skyrocketed.
San Francisco had decided to pour rain on his journey home, which only soured Spock’s mood as he made his way, on foot, to the apartment building where the apartment he shared with Jim could be found.
He used hand recognition to access the front doors of the building and then scurried over to the stairs rather than the lift.
When he reached the floor where the apartment was, the fifth, it was as he feared. Jim was stepping out the door, luggage bag clutched in his hands. He turned to look at Spock as Spock approached.
“Thought you weren’t going to make it,” Jim admitted.
“I almost didn’t. One moment.” Spock brushed past Jim and into their apartment, rushing into the bedroom to seize his already packed bag. He returned to Jim, waiting in the hallway.
“You could have caught the next shuttle,” Jim told him. “I left a note. It’s just I had to—”
“Leave, yes. I know. I prefer we travel together.” Spock pursed his lips, trying to keep a most illogical emotional outburst from happening.
“Affirmative. I just…I prefer we spent all our time together.”
Jim smiled and touched his fingers to Spock’s. “Me too, honey. You ready?”
Feeling illogically relieved Jim had not departed without him, Spock fell into step beside him. Their shoulders touched as they walked in sync.