Notes: Because Spock just had to have the last word. ^_^
"Hmm?"
"Who is Mary Sue Myers?"
He laughs sleepily, warmly, into my shoulder. "Theatrical device, Spock. Made her up to torture you with."
"Good," I say. "You do not believe that your story was true, then?"
"Course not. It was a ghost story. Mom said."
"I am relieved to hear it. Jim?"
"Hmm?"
"The next time you call someone a 'very good friend of yours' in that tone of voice, you will be referring to me."
"Mm-hmm."
"I would like a promise, if you would be so good."
"Promise," he says, and yawns, and squeezes me tighter. I press my lips to his hair, and resolve to give him his present in the morning. The three-dimensional chess set will look well there, on top of his dresser, and we will have time for many games before I must return home.
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