I've fallen in the trap of the 'five and one' stories... I apologize deeply for this, but it can't really be helped. This is going to be my version of 'five times Spock saved the crew/captain, and one time they saved him.' We'll see what kind of stuff I come up with, yes? Do enjoy. These are going to be rather short, and I apologize, but I shall attempt to make the next chapters longer, after the first two.
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It shouldn't have been that difficult. Go make contact with a bunch of aliens that were pacifistic fuzzballs, that didn't believe in the use of weapons, sign the treaty, and get out. Simple. Only once again the crew of the Enterprise was given reason to believe that their ship was, quite simply, cursed. Apparently the fuzzballs that didn't believe in weapons also didn't believe in informing the Federation they were supposed to be joining of their scaly, slobbering, weapon wielding neighbors.
So, naturally, the landing party, Leonard 'Bones' McCoy, Spock, James T. Kirk, and a security officer or two, beamed down right into the midst of these slobbering neighbors who were, quite naturally, not impressed. Next thing they knew they had been taken captive and were forced into a dirty, old fashioned cell. Jim thought they were lucky that the nasty scaly abominations didn't believe in eating them. Their teeth were sure as hell long enough.
The cell was dark, stank, and was the perfect amount of disgusting and unsanitary to have Bones grumbling within a second. Their phasers and communicators had been removed from their possession, and they could barely stand up without hitting their heads, which meant Spock had to stoop. He was the least ruffled out of all of them; Jim was pacing back and forth pointlessly, his teeth grit in annoyance, the two security officers were glancing back and forth, probably deciding who was going to die this time, and McCoy was cursing a blue streak.
The half-Vulcan, however was staring at the outline of the door as though he could disintegrate it, and in the tiny sliver of light that streamed in they could barely make out the glittering of his black eyes. Jim sighed and slumped against the wall, hands running over his face in exasperated exhaustion. This was getting old.
Suddenly, before they had time to think, Spock had launched himself at the door with all the force of a gunshot and smashed into the wooden door with his shoulder. It creaked, groaned, and fell with a crash. To their shock there were no sudden alarms, nothing. Everything was silent, still, calm, and Spock turned to look at them expectantly, a trademark eyebrow rising when they just stared at him with open mouthed shock. Vulcan ears were apparently good for something after all.
That eyebrow rose just that little bit more, and they finally rushed out, stunned and surprised to see their communicators in a pile near the back wall. They were able to pick them up, and call the Enterprise before their charming hosts returned, this was almost too easy. This was, of course, when they returned and they were remarkably unhappy to see their prisoners up and about. Jim was, of course, the one they immediately targeted, throwing a projectile weapon that would have torn through his chest, had Spock not stepped in front of him calmly and smoothly. Jim gave a yell, which was somehow dwarfed by McCoy's loud angry cursing, and they beamed out just as Spock was slumping to the ground, emerald green blood splashing.
It was only later that Jim realized he had never said a word. Went through the motions as though it was expected of him, calmly using his own body to smash doors, giving himself a nasty green bruise in the process, and taking a potentially fatal blow for his Captain. Jim figured it was way too soon to call him friend, but it was a near thing. How often did someone not your friend use his body to save yours? It was a sickening sight, watching as his first officer bled out on the transporter pad with Bones cradling his head in his lap, trying to staunch the flow of blood with his hands and screaming at his sickbay to get the hell up there with an emergency team through the comm. Three hours of surgery later and Spock was stable and in a healing trance. Jim had visited as often as he could, staring down at the unmoving pale and green tinged form on the bed, marveling at just how fragile he seemed to be when he wasn't standing taller than everyone else and staring at them all imperiously.
But that didn't change the fact that Jim thought it was strange that someone he barely called tolerable was willing to give his life to save his own. It didn't matter that his heart was in his side and not his chest, it was the principle of the thing, and Bones agreed with him. Bones had cursed the entire time there, probably during the surgery as well, and every time he saw him lying there still he would curse some more and then seem to deflate.
Jim hoped to God that this wouldn't start a trend.