“Come,” Kirk said, leading the way to the bathroom.
Spock stood in front of the mirror and Kirk wrapped a towel around his shoulders, tucking it into the back of his collar.
“You keep it a bit shorter at the back.” Kirk bent down to get a pair of scissors out of a drawer. “Don’t like it touching the top of your collar.”
Spock looked at himself in the mirror, feeling strangely calm considering the proximity of a sharp object to his throat. He felt the blunt cold metal gliding carefully along his skin, complemented by firm fingers that were thankfully warmer. Kirk’s face in the mirror was a picture of concentration and Spock thought he looked skilled, practised.
It was strangely soothing. Spock could hear only his own breathing and the snip of the scissors. He could feel the warmth of Kirk’s body behind his, and even though they’d slept in the same bed, this was still the closest they had been to each other for any significant length of time.
“There we go.” Kirk sounded pleased with himself. He ruffled his fingers through Spock’s hair before removing the towel and throwing it aside. Spock watched Kirk move closer again before blowing softly on his neck, dislodging the short hairs missed by the towel. Something new and strange ran all the way down Spock’s body at the sensation, and he gripped the edge of the sink.
“You can check it if you want, but I promise I’m pretty good at this.”
Kirk was on his way out the door by time Spock gathered himself enough to reply.
“I will check it. Thank you.”
Spock remained at the mirror for a minute but it wasn’t to check his hair.