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Jim woke to the sound of knocking. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to get his bearings. Distantly he heard the shower running and realized Spock had risen and went to shower.

He blinked, about to doze off again thinking he must have been dreaming. Then he heard the knocking again.

With a frown, Jim sat up, swung his legs out of bed and stood.

“Hey Spock? I think there’s someone at the door.”

But Spock didn’t respond.

Jim looked around for his clothes but couldn’t immediately find them, so he picked up a discarded bathrobe of Spock’s and left the bedroom to go to the door.

He had just finished tying it around his waist when he opened the apartment door.

Standing there looking as shell-shocked as him were Spock’s parents.

“Uh.” Jim shut the door in their faces. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He hurried back to the bedroom and over to the bathroom door. Fortunately it was unlocked and he burst through it.

“Spock! Spock!”

“Jim?” The shower curtain moved and Spock’s head appeared.  “What is wrong?”

“Gad, your-your parents are here.”

“They are here?” Spock turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel.

“Yes. And, uh.” Jim ran his hand through his hair. “I think, I mean, I just…”

“Jim, calm down. I am certain they are all right. My mother is likely making tea in the kitchen as we speak. Tell them I will be right out.”

“I sort of closed the door in their faces.”

“You…”

“I know. I panicked. I’m not dressed. My hair is messed and—”

Spock gazed at him. “And you have what I believe you would call hickeys just below your neck on your chest.”

“Shit.”

“I suggest you get in the shower,” Spock told him. “I will dress quickly and let them in.”

“Are you sure?”

Spock nodded and gently pushed him toward the shower. “I will make you coffee.”

“I’m going to need it.”