Some people said that love was a chemical reaction in the brain. It was a survival trick created by the human body in order to foster the relationships necessary for continuing the human race. When a woman loved a man, she bore only his children, ensuring that his genes were spread. When a man loved a woman, he stayed by her and her offspring, ensuring that all were well cared for.
James didn�t know where he fit into that. There would be no children between him and Kirk. Neither of them truly needed the other in order to survive. It seemed that nature�s little trick had backfired. Love without evolutionary purpose. Perhaps they were killing the delicate balance of life, perhaps it was all just a bunch of bullshit.
Kirk stirred in his sleep, brows furrowing down, lips parting. James smoothed a hand across his cheek, and the expression quieted instantly into a peaceful smile. Was that love? The soothing of a bad dream with one touch? Maybe.
There were a thousand ways to say I love you, and every time James caught himself employing one of them, a little part of him died. It wouldn�t be long before he was completely gone, subsumed in this strange relationship. Kirk had let go more willingly, and was waiting patiently on the other side for James to join him. Kirk could be infuriatingly patient. They both knew it was just a matter of time.
Sighing, James dropped a kiss onto Kirk�s forehead and closed his eyes. He�d sleep soon and wake up just a little bit closer to death. Or love, whichever. They were the same to him, inextricably intertwined in some perverse Gordian knot that he didn�t have the balls to cut open. What did it matter, either way?
