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Spock climbed out of the bedroom window and cautiously on to the flat roof of the house next to it where Jim sat, legs bent at the knee and pulled up to his chest.

“This is an unusual place to find you.” Spock lowered himself to sit beside his husband.

Jim smiled. “Needed a quiet place to think. I used to come out here all the time when I was a kid.” He laughed. “A long time ago.”

“If you would like to be alone—”

“Heck, no.” Jim put his hand on Spock’s leg. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Where you go, I always follow.”

And perhaps that was a bad thing to admit but it was true, nonetheless.

“Thinking about your mother?”

Jim nodded. “I’m an orphan now. Which is crazy. I’m…I’m no young man anymore. It’s been a long time since I needed my mommy, you know?”

“I know,” Spock said softly.

“Still, that puts me firmly in the front of the line for mortality, doesn’t it?”

“I prefer not to think in terms of your mortality,” Spock replied.

“I can’t entirely dismiss the idea. It’s possible I’ll live a good long time with Khan’s blood, but there are no guarantees, even with me no longer being in active command of a starship.”

“Yes, there are no guarantees in life for any of us. We are not promised tomorrow. We have to make the best of today.”

“A logical philosophy.” Jim smiled, squeezed Spock’s leg.

They heard a noise down below and then a blond teenaged head popped out through the open window.     

“I’m hungry. What have we got to eat?” David, Jim’s son, demanded.

Jim chuckled. “I haven’t been to the store.”

“But—”

“We’ll order a pizza.”

“Cool.” And David went inside again.

Jim sighed, leaned his head against Spock’s shoulder and said, “Come on. Let’s go back inside.”