In the early days of their relationship, he didn’t really notice it. Love is blind they say, and he certainly was as fully in love as anyone ever was.
But after they bonded and married, he’d noticed it. Oh, it was minor. A mere insignificant thing and he would never mention it to anyone, including his love.
His love was still absolutely brilliant. Beyond brilliant. And such tiny inconsistencies were nothing. There was the old tale of the absentminded professor, and he was certain that applied.
And it was never every time, anyway.
A missing number in a report that should have been there. Nothing really, it could have been missed by anyone, and the fact that it was missed by him, that was why he paid attention to it.
Truthfully, it was endearing.
And he did not know why.
So, he’d taken to going into these reports and other things and adding it himself. He had the same accesses and same passwords to accounts his love did. They were bondmates after all. No real secrets existed.
Except perhaps this. If he knew that these things were being corrected, he never let on.
Much later, when they retired from Starfleet and went to live together in San Francisco, and they both took up teaching at the Academy, it was even more minor things.
Their apartment number left off an address when he ordered something. As it was now.
With a shake of his head, he read the notice from the shipping company that they needed a unit number as it had been left off the order form.
He added the unit number, saved the address, and closed the site.
The door to the apartment opened only moments later. He stood and gave his husband a kiss. Sweet, gentle, and welcomed.
“Did my order arrive yet from the teashop? I placed it some time ago and it has still not arrived.”
He smiled, pulled him close, and said, “I’m sure it will soon, Spock. It’s likely on its way, even now.”
And yes, his absolutely stunningly brilliant husband who had an incredible memory was not perfect. He was okay with that. More than okay.
Because, yes, he was perfect after all.