Author's Notes: Short, silly, and a good reprieve from the uber-drama I usually write. Jim needs torturing sometimes, and the idea of Spock and McCoy ganging up is the most wonderful and terrifying idea in the universe.
Disclaimer: I do not own this franchise and I make no money from it.
Jim Kirk, Captain of the Federation flagship, the USS Enterprise, lay moaning and groaning on the biobed, curled on his side in fetal position. A particularly sensitive body part of his was alternating between white-hot stabbing pain and dull, throbbing aches. His eyes were squeezed shut, but that didn't block out the lecture being delivered on him by one very irate doctor.
"- And, no, I'm not gonna give you local anesthesia, so stop whining. I've got every intention of letting you lay there so you can think and remember the pain next time you decide to go sticking that thing in some random chick from another planet. You're just lucky that the STI you got was on the list of treatable ones. Within 24 hours, the pus will have cleared up and little Jimmy will be back to normal. Now, kid, what did you learn today?"
Jim groaned again. "Next time I have a problem in my pants, I'm going to Christine," he whimpered.
"The hell you are!"
The door to his private room whooshed open, then shut again. Jim didn't bother to open his eyes, and it didn't surprise him in the least when the voice he next heard was his first officer's.
"What is the status of the captain?"
"He's a fucking idiot."
"While it may, perhaps, be true, your statement failed to address my concerns for the captain's health."
McCoy snorted. "I'm glad we agreed on something. Mr. Skanky-pants here picked up an STI on shore leave."
Jim peaked an eye open, then shut it when he saw Spock's patented death glare directed at him.
"Your earlier statement is an accurate diagnosis, then, doctor. Our captain is an imbecile."
Jim frowned and wondered if McCoy had slipped him something after all. Spock, the epitome of emotional control, was essentially in a pissy mood. How did that happen?
"You know, Spock, that theory we were talking about? I finally figured it out. It's not that he's trying to fuck every species in the Federation; he's trying to get laid on every planet and space station in the known universe."
"That would make more sense than our earlier hypothesis. To my knowledge, he has had intercourse with nearly every humanoid species except Klingon and Romulan."
"Yeah, if he kept trying to go where no man has gone before, we'd find him humping tribbles."
Jim opened both eyes to stare at them with a (carefully projected) mix of hurt and shock. Spock and McCoy merely stood side by side with their arms crossed at the foot of his bed. Each raised an eyebrow at him, nearly in sync. It was really freaking creepy.
Jim closed his eyes and decided to keep his mouth shut. 'That's it, I'm dying. This is all a crazy fever dream, and when I open my eyes, it'll be over.'
"Do you remember our other theory, Dr. McCoy?"
"The one that he's been sleeping around because he can't decide which of us to screw first?"
"Correct, that is the one I spoke of."
Now Jim had to say something. "Okay, I've tried to put up with this crazy talk, but now what are you going on about? And since when have you two been all buddy-buddy?"
"We have been friends for three months and six days, Captain."
"And you know what we're talking about," McCoy scowled. "You've been stringin' us both along for weeks. Making out with me in my office, runnin' your hands all over Spock's on the bridge, then going out on shore leave and screwing the first creature – male, female, or otherwise – that looks at you. We're sick of it."
"Seeing as you refuse to make a decision," continued Spock, "We have decided for you."
Jim screwed his eyes shut again and opened them, slowly. Nope, definitely not an illusion. His CMO and his First Officer actually were French-kissing in front of him and caressing each other's fingers in some weird dual-kissing scenario.
And it was by far the hottest thing Jim had ever seen in his life.
It was a shame to stop it, but Bones had Spock leaning backwards onto the foot of the bed, and the Vulcan's hands were fumbling at the doctor's belt. The two looked close to defiling the sanctity of the Sick Bay, plus they were missing a key component. "Uh, hey. Hey! Guys! Time out! What are you doing?"
The two disengaged and stared at him with slightly dazed eyes.
"You have eyes, or did the disease kill those, too?" McCoy snapped, "What does it look like we're doing?"
Spock, meanwhile, was purring. Really purring, like a big cat. Jim could ignore that, for now, but that definitely bore future investigation.
"I can see what you're doing, but aren't you forgetting something?"
McCoy and Spock played dumb. "I do not believe that we have forgotten anything or anyone. Did we, Leonard?"
"Nothing important, darlin'" grinned McCoy.
Jim tried to sit up in indignation, but found himself curled back up again in agony as fiery pains shot up his groin.
McCoy and Spock both bent over him.
"What did we learn today, Jim?" McCoy asked him again.
"No more sleeping with strangers on weird planets?" Jim gritted out.
"And…?"
"Never leave two sexually frustrated officers alone, or they'll torture you with no drugs and sex you can't join in on!" he yelled.
"And what are you gonna say to us now?"
Jim whimpered for a minute then smiled weakly at them. "I hate you. You two are insane, but you're fuckin' awesome. And after I'm done dying and killing you for putting me through this, I am gonna take you both to my room and screw you senseless."
"Good kid. But not until that pus clears up. I'm gonna go get you some painkillers now." McCoy smiled and patted his head.
"You're an angel." Jim nearly sobbed with relief. Spock sat down on the chair next to his bed.
"I apologize, Captain, for my unseemly behavior. It was highly uncharacteristic and inappropriate, and I surrender myself to your punishment as soon as you are feeling well enough to administer it. In the meantime, know that while I am sorry that we were driven to this desperate scenario, I do not regret a single action that I have committed."
"I'll bet you don't," Jim muttered, glancing at the Vulcanoid's flushed cheeks and swollen lips. "Never fear," he continued in a louder voice, "I will punish you for your wrongdoings. You will be spanked. Bad Spock."
Spock's eyes gleamed in amusement, and he stood as McCoy approached with a hypo.
"There," he said, stabbing it into Jim's neck. "That should be working now. I've also got some mild sedative – stop flinching, you baby; it's just a hypo. You should rest."
"Thank you, Bones." Jim relaxed into his pillow, the pain abating and a fuzzy sleepy feeling coming over his senses.
"Now, Spock and I have some…business…to go over. In my office. Right now." He raised his eyebrows significantly at Spock, who moved to cuddle up to the doctor.
"Of course, Doctor. It is of utmost importance."
"Wait." Jim grappled for alertness, failing miserably. Mild sedative, my ass! "You can't just leave me like this!"
"We can and we are." They turned their backs on him and strode off to the office door, McCoy slipping his hand into Spock's back pocket to cup his ass. The door to his private room whooshed shut, and Jim could just see those two prancing off into Bones' office, the little sign above it switching from 'Unoccupied' to 'Do not disturb.'
Jim allowed himself one little dramatic sniffle, and then drifted off into unconsciousness, his last coherent thoughts of how he'd get revenge for his new lovers' insubordination.
He did, eventually, but that's another story entirely.
