A/N: Hello! Well, this story was certainly unexpected because I woke up this morning with it pounding in my brain and just had to write it down! Jdpenny121, I am working on your request and smoothing out the plot holes so that's still definitely a go, just this one-shot barged its way on paper. 2,500 words exactly (not counting author's notes) with hilarity ensuing: enjoy!
It was a normal day on the Enterprise. Spock was taking care of routine ship's business on the bridge while the Captain was entertaining the dignitaries and delegates they were transporting. Dr. McCoy was in Sickbay performing surgery on a bright engineer who had thought it was a good idea to balance/sit on a… well, we won't say exactly what it was he sat on, only that it was very unpleasant. And pointy.
Spock's shift ended and, seeing that the Captain was still busy with their guests and that their evening chess game would be canceled, decided to stop by Sickbay.
The surgery had just ended and nurses were trooping wearily by him, cleaning up and ready to go to bed. Dr. McCoy himself appeared, after making sure that the lieutenant (and yes, you would think that lieutenants would know better) was comfortable and stabilized. He looked very tired.
"Greetings, Doctor," Spock began.
"Oh, hello, Spock, what can I do for you?" McCoy asked.
"How is Lt. Brasso?" Spock inquired.
"Oh, he'll be fine," McCoy reported. "I've fixed all the damage the thingymagjigger caused and he'll back on his feet in a day or two. Course, there's not much I can do about the damage to that brain of his."
"I was unaware that the lieutenant suffered brain damage," Spock stated, alarmed.
"He doesn't," McCoy cut off exasperatedly. "Though, it'd almost be better if he did because I can fix brain damage- not stupidity."
Spock finally understood what McCoy was saying. It always seemed to take the doctor a long time to get a point across- various colorful idioms came first and constantly got in the way of his speech.
"-but he'll make a full recovery," McCoy said with a yawn. He stretched his back and yelped.
"Is something troubling you, Doctor?" asked Spock.
McCoy was rubbing the back of his neck. "Just a little stiff, Spock. 6 hours of surgery bending over somebody will do that to you." He rubbed his neck and shoulder some more. "What I wouldn't give for a massage right now," he muttered.
"Perhaps I can be of assistance," Spock volunteered.
McCoy looked surprised. "You know how to give a massage?"
Spock inclined his head. "It is a simple principle, really. As I understand, the configuration of human anatomy allows the muscles to tense and lock up if they are still for an extended period of time. Rubbing these muscles with a precise amount of pressure in various circular rhythms help relieve this tension, causing relaxation and needed flexibility."
The doctor looked at him, jaw hanging open slightly, hand still on his shoulder, and blue eyes blinking. He recovered himself and glanced towards the ceiling. "Well, I'll be. A Vulcan masseuse."
Unsure who the doctor was talking to (a deity, perhaps?) Spock proceeded. "Would you like me to give you a massage?"
McCoy looked at him, still somewhat reeling. "Well, ah, oh why the heck not?" he tossed his hands up. "I asked for a massage and it looks like I'm getting one. But um," he added hastily. "Perhaps we should do it in my office."
Spock followed the doctor into the aforementioned office and the doors closed behind him. They sat down on the small couch facing each other.
"Where is most of the tension located?" Spock asked first.
McCoy was still finding the entire situation ridiculously awkward but clamped down on it and replied "mainly around my shoulders… this area." He indicated the spots he'd been rubbing.
"Very well," Spock answered smoothly. "Before we begin, I suggest that you plan to return to your quarters after this is done. Research has shown that humans generally feel the need to take a nap after a massage."
"I know, Spock," McCoy waved him off. "The shift's over for the day, anyway."
Spock nodded. Signaling it was time to start, McCoy turned so that his back was to Spock. Gently, the Vulcan placed his hands on McCoy's shoulders and started kneading the muscle, working inward towards the neck.
"You're pretty good at this," McCoy commented, surprised.
"Thank you, Doctor. I have deduced how much pressure is needed for your muscles to be appropriately relieved." Spock's brow furrowed as McCoy tensed when he got near the neck. "Though, I am constantly reevaluating my deductions."
"That's fine, Spock," McCoy spluttered quickly. "You're doing fine."
"Yet you are still tense whenever I approach your neck."
"Well, of course!" McCoy exclaimed. "Just… be careful around that area!"
"Doctor, I think you have a knot there."
Spock continued his ministrations as normal, focused on massaging the muscle, when McCoy suddenly cried out. "Wait, Spock, NO!"
The doctor's whole body suddenly jerked and stiffened before slumping back towards Spock. Spock, for his part, was bewildered that the doctor was unconscious. He mentally reviewed the scenario, trying to figure out how that was possible. His eyes widened slightly as the answer clicked into place.
While massaging the doctor's shoulders, he had accidentally nerve-pinched him.
"That… could have been avoided," he mentioned aloud, looking down at McCoy.
The doctor stayed silent.
Spock then realized that he had a problem. He couldn't exactly leave McCoy here, where one of his nurses could come in and needlessly worry. Also, there was not suitable space in the office to lay McCoy on (the couch wasn't that long) aside from the floor. The doctor was already stiff in the shoulders- sleeping in an uncomfortable position would only worsen the problem.
He should take the doctor to his room, Spock decided. The corridors were emptying at this hour, so he was sure that they would not come across any curious crewmen wondering how such a unique situation… occurred.
But the security cameras would still pick them up, Spock realized. That wouldn't do. Spock knew that McCoy wouldn't like having to explain why a Vulcan was carrying him through the corridors while he was unconscious, and Spock noted that he would find such an interrogation unpleasant as well. After all, it would be hard for someone to believe that one got knocked out by a massage.
Which would lead to the next question: why were you giving the doctor a massage?
It would be best if that scenario was avoided.
No matter. Spock was a computer genius. He crossed to McCoy's computer terminal and pulled up the necessary security feeds from Sickbay to the doctor's quarters. Accessing the system, he set the necessary cameras to shut down for the amount of time it would take for him to transport McCoy. Spock gave the necessary commands, and shut down the selected security feeds.
He then approached the doctor, lifted him over his shoulder, and exited the office.
Spock's plan probably would have worked (he could easily and logically explain why tampering with the security feeds was necessary in this case) except that he had failed to realize that a wild factor was involved: Jim Kirk.
As it was, Captain James T. Kirk was getting tired of constantly smiling and acquiescing to the needs (cough *demands* cough) of the paranoid diplomatic party. The Enterprise was the second transport vessel for the group of Dolians, and they constantly fretted over any perceived threat and safety issue. The group constantly walked in a ring around their leader, Queen Pernella, and Kirk was certain that at least more than one of the guards had PTSD problems.
"Gentlemen; your Excellency," Kirk said sternly but graciously as he took the Dolians on a tour of the ship. "I can assure you that the Enterprise is a ship that utilizes all of its safety protocols and is tight in its security measures."
"That may be, Kirk," Pernella sighed melodramatically and disdainfully. She fanned herself constantly, blowing her thick, cloying perfume in all directions. Kirk tried not to wrinkle his nose. "But we've had such disasters in the past that we can't help but worry."
"On the Enterprise, you need not worry," Kirk stated, eyeing a wide-eyed guard with a technical device. It looked similar to a tricorder, but the Dolian refused to let go of it, as if his very life depended on the machine. "And this is a mere extension of the safety and security that the Federation provides. We believe in not only helping people, but protecting them as well."
Queen Pernella sighed again, batting her noxious perfume through the corridor with her fan. "Fine, Captain."
Kirk resisted the urge to sigh. "Now, if you will come this way you can see-"
"The security feeds are down!" screamed the guard with the tricorder. "It's an assassination attempt!"
The Queen screamed and all the Dolian guards pressed closer around her, drawing out their weapons in jittery fright. Kirk was bewildered and wide-eyed at the sheer paranoia.
"Calm down! I'm sure it's just-"
Another guard pointed and screamed. "The assassin's already got somebody!"
Kirk whirled and his eyes bugged even more when he saw Spock halt in surprise carrying- was that Bones?
"Spock!?" Kirk called. "Ladies and gentleman, it's alright, but Spock what is-?"
Spock stepped closer and all the Dolians shrieked. In the next second the weapons were firing and bolts of green energy bounced and ricocheted off of the bulkheads.
Kirk found himself directly in the line of fire. The Dolians were shooting madly and Spock practically leapt behind the corner he had come from. Desperately trying not to get shot, Kirk also dove behind that corner and crashed straight into Spock who was already off balance from the burden on his shoulders and so as he went down he tried desperately to counterbalance the weight but only succeeded in dropping McCoy onto Kirk's head.
"What in the name of all that's good and holy!?" Kirk spluttered.
"Good evening, Captain," Spock greeted.
"Spock!" Kirk roared, gripping his first officer's elbow. "Have you gone mad?" The phaser fire from the Dolians continued, striking the wall of their corner of refuge. "Why are the security feeds down? Why are you carrying Bones through the corridors? And for goodness sake, why is he unconscious!?"
"Captain, I can explain," Spock started.
"Yes, do explain! Explain why we're getting shot at!"
"I gave Dr. McCoy a massage," he said bluntly.
Kirk opened his mouth and closed it. "I… didn't hear that," he said, more to himself. He shook his head as if to clear it.
"I'm trying to get the doctor to his quarters," Spock continued. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Kirk winced. "You picked a fine path. Those Dolians are right in our way and they're very trigger-happy right now." Underscoring his words, a green bolt zipped behind him and bounded off of a wall with a zing!
"Captain, we need a way to get all personnel out of this corridor so we can drop Dr. McCoy off," Spock summarized.
Kirk dragged his hand across his chin, thinking. "Okay, I've got an idea."
The Dolians had stopped firing, but were still in the corridor, pressed against the wall in a protective ring for their queen. Every guard had his eyes wide open and his weapon an arm's length out in front of him, looking for any sign of the 'assassin'.
Meanwhile, Kirk and Spock were trying to quietly reprogram the comm system.
Some sparks flew as Spock crossed a couple wires. "Shh," Kirk hissed. "Don't let them hear!"
"Captain, I am endeavoring to be as silent as possible," Spock whispered back.
And McCoy picked that precise moment to wake up.
"Oh-h, goodness," he groused, lifting a hand to his head. His eyes were closed so he was unaware of Kirk and Spock's frantic attempts to quiet him. "That's the last time I ever let you- what? Jim? What's going on? What's happening?"
Confusion evident, and McCoy being known for being more outspoken than soft-spoken, and with the Dolians perking up on their position, Spock did the (seemingly) logical thing and nerve-pinched the doctor again.
"Aw, Spock," Kirk lamented as McCoy slumped. "He just woke up!"
"Perhaps if the doctor learns to whisper this can be avoided in the future," Spock replied. "Captain, it is ready."
"Do it," Kirk said.
Spock tripped the biohazard alarm.
There was much shrieking as the Dolians stampeded away in terror. Kirk cheered and rushed out into the corridor, Spock slinging McCoy over his shoulder and following closely.
They were almost to McCoy's quarters when they ran into a group of medical personnel wearing HAZMAT suits.
"Captain!" one said, his voice distorted through the speaker of the suit. "Please, remain calm! We are here to help!"
"Ah, yes, about that, there isn't really any biohazard, so you don't have to worry-" Kirk started.
"Sir, it is clear that you are already affected and suffering from delusions. The tricorder detects a noxious gas present and Dr. McCoy has already fallen unconscious!"
Noxious gas? Kirk realized with a groan that the tricorder was picking up Queen Pernella's awful perfume. "Lieutenant, there is no noxious gas, it is perfume. And McCoy isn't unconscious he's… well, he is unconscious, but he's not unconscious from anything in the corridor- except Spock, that's kind of how he got unconscious, but you see, there was a massage and-"
"Captain, please!" the lieutenant cried. "We need to get you all to Sickbay to treat you immediately! Your mental functions are becoming affected!"
"But the captain speaks the truth," Spock added unhelpfully.
The medical orderlies squawked and squabbled amongst themselves. "Even Mr. Spock!" "Emergency protocol!" "Sirs, this way so we can disinfect this area!"
Before anyone knew it, the three men were seized and dragged away down to Sickbay.
Naturally, the sensors and panels in Sickbay did not register any sort of contamination on them, but the night nurses and doctors were still hesitant, in case it was something unknown. They insisted on keeping Kirk, Spock, and McCoy overnight for observation, should any ill effects suddenly arise.
"This is not how I expected to spend my evening," McCoy grumbled on the biobed next to them. He had finally awakened and still couldn't figure out how he'd gone from his office, to a corridor gunfight, to back into Sickbay but as a patient.
"I agree," Kirk pronounced honestly. "I planned to spend it explaining to admirals why the Dolians are all locked in their rooms refusing to come out."
They both turned to Spock.
"Fascinating," Spock commented. "I intend to write a paper on how it is ill-advised for Vulcans to massage the neck-shoulder junction on any species."
Kirk blinked.
"Side effects may include," McCoy added dryly. "Loss of consciousness, broken security feeds, phaser fights, and exposure to dangerous, non-existent biological hazards."
Spock raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Yes," he agreed sincerely.
Kirk finally lost it. The medical staff rushed in to figure out why the alarms had gone off for the captain's breathing only to find him practically hiccupping with laughter while Spock and McCoy seemed to be engaged in some kind of eye-rolling contest. More medical tests were clearly needed for the three officers.
I hope you enjoyed this humorous little fic! Yeah, every time I think about it, I get scared at the though of a Vulcan giving someone a massage. Your hands are in the PERFECT position to nerve pinch somebody, and because you're already applying pressure, well... yeah. These things happen :) Please review, all you lovely people!