For Hailey
Hipster font!
"Nurse Olson?"
A light rap on the doorframe made the woman's brunette head turn towards the source of the noise. Commander Spock stood stiffly at the entrance to the clinic, his posture more rigid than normal. His tapered fingers curled into loose fists and then relaxed, only to repeat the action. His midnight hair was slightly mussed, as if he had just sprung from bed. Since it was approximately four AM Earth time, this conclusion was probably true.
"Might I inquire for some of your time as long as you are otherwise unoccupied?" he asked, taking a step forward but immediately retreating, unsure if she would admit his person.
"Come in," she smiled, nervously crossing her arms over her chest. To the rest of her crewmates, her infatuation with the Commander was almost painfully obvious. Even the non-humanoid members of the Enterprise could identify her plight. But to a Vulcan, what she was feeling was . . . illogical. Therefore, it amounted to nothing. And the nothingness was killing her. All she wanted was a soft kiss on her neck in the night, a sweet phrase whispered in her ear, heck, even a friendly smile at this point. Nurse Olson drew her bottom lip in between her teeth before murmuring, "What can I help you with?"
Spock gratefully entered the room, not settling on the contoured chair as might be expected, but in a nearby chair, folding his long limbs into the seat. He wet his lips with a quick flick of his tongue before speaking. "Nurse K'alnez sent me to you to-," here his brow furrowed, "talk."
A burst of heat threatened to topple the nurse, but she recovered, grabbing onto the nearby tray table. Talk? To Spock? About what? "Why would she do that?" she stuttered, attempting to beat back the blush creeping up the back of her neck.
"Nurse K'alnez gave me a full physical examination after I came to her in complaint of lucid dreaming and fevers following my sleep patterns. Strangely enough, Nurse K'alnez could not identify any ill had befallen me. She then directed me to you. I believe that her command to converse with you is to see if any malady might be discovered that she has overlooked, though I find it perplexing that Nurse K'alnez could not find the trigger to my ailment after more than four successful years in our service. Nevertheless, I am hopeful that you may find this sickness and eradicate the source so I may sleep in peace and resume my duties in full competency. Are you in agreement, Nurse Olson?" Spock explained to his captive audience. It was rare to hear Spock say so much – usually it was just the odd phrase spoken out. His deep, husky voice sent shivers down Nurse Olson's spine. What would it be like if he used that baritone for something besides quoting statistical data or commands?
The woman swallowed, damning and thanking her co-worker in the same thought. "I'll give you a full physical examination, just to follow protocol and for the records' sake, then we'll talk," she managed to spit out, "Commander Spock, can you accept medical treatment's terms underneath the code of Starfleet as a patient of the starship Enterprise?" She hated the last part, but it was standard procedure to ask permission and acceptance from the subject.
"Affirmative," Spock nodded.
"Let's get started," Nurse Olson smiled tightly, "If you would please move to the examination area, I'll get ready." She turned, hearing Spock get up and reinstate himself where she asked him to. He moved with barely a whisper, like a ghost. However, his musk, something her sensitive nose had become accustomed to picking up, filled the room, convincing her of his physical form.
Cold anti-bacterial spray jettisoned over her open hands. The icy mist stung for a second on her skin as it killed germs. The woman grabbed her wand from its holder on the wall, her tablet from the counter, and went back to her patient. The all-purpose functional medical wand measured body temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, lung capacity, even neural impulses. Nurse Olson tucked the wand in her pocket for a moment as she brushed back the single strand of hair that always seemed to escape her regulation bun. With her hand temporarily unoccupied, she brought up the Commander's previous medical records, skilled fingertips flipping through the numerous reports to the last one. Nurse K'alnez, her closest friend on the ship, had entered into the comments "This is your chance. Jump that sexy alien already!" Humored yet embarrassed, Nurse Olson touched the tablet's screen and opened a new window, hiding all other information.
Spock lay on the chair, hands laying peacefully over his stomach. His eyes were closed, and the usual lines in his forehead from confusion or deep thought had vanished. He looked . . . content. Like nothing else was on his mind.
Nurse Olson took a deep breath, quashing the throbbing of her heart in response to that face. Spock appeared vulnerable, and the instinct to hold him tight was hard to ignore. She inhaled again. This would be a routine examination. She'd make sure of it.
She waved the wand over his body, noting the vitals seemed normal. High temperature, low blood pressure – average for a Vulcan. Tracing the device over his head, Nurse Olson then realized something very odd. His pre-frontal cortex was stimulated (not unusual, as the Vulcan logic was probably in high gear at all times), but the hypothalamus was also flickering with impulses. Interested and slightly perturbed, she leaned in closer to scan better, and was alarmed to discover that his vitals jumped to spectacular heights. Backing away to record the numbers on her tablet, she scanned him again only to see everything had returned to normal. Nurse Olson worried her lip between her teeth. What had happened? The only way to find out would be to question Spock.
"Spo-" she began, tapping his warmed skin lightly, before his vitals jumped again, higher than before and the wand flashed warning lights of an abnormality. She lurched back in fright and hit the tray table with a loud bang. The space-age metal reverberated on her hip, causing a sharp, throbbing pain. It would definitely bruise. Biting back a curse, the woman caught herself on the counter and realized that Spock's hand was overlaying hers. "What are you doing?" she asked, feeling a secret thrill run up her spine at being so close to him.
"Making sure you did not lose your balance again and fall, which would be detrimental to your health and the overall performance of the medical bay of the Enterprise," Spock stated, lifting a casual eyebrow as if her safety was the main reason he was clutching her hand so tightly. She could feel the thrum of his heartbeat through his palm, faster and faster. His breath caressed her forehead and he leaned in to rest his forehead on her shoulder. "Nurse Olson . . . I do not know what ails me. But it saps my strength and diverts my attention. Please . . . before I do something I regret."
Nurse Olson felt warm all the way to her toes and knew she was probably blushing a spectacularly violent red. He was so close – his chest inches away from her heaving own. To reach out, touch the Commander's warm skin and feel his surprised gasp against her neck . . .
Control.
Control.
Fuck control.
"Commander," she breathed, "What are these dreams about?"
"Often the same recurring theme," Spock lamented. He drew his head up to gaze at her with his piercing eyes. "And they have gotten to be so antagonizing that even daily meditation cannot reverse my thought process. I fear I am getting worse."
"Spock, spit it out," Nurse Olson grumbled, waiting for him to get to the point already.
"I've been having . . . erotic dreams," Spock croaked, a green tinge tinting his cheeks from embarrassment.
"I see," the nurse stated, trying desperately not to look in his eyes again – for they would be her undoing, "And what are these erotic dreams about?"
"Myself engaging in sexual acts and intercourse with –," here he paused, consciously biting his tongue. He feared if he voiced the truth, all would come crashing down. Everything. From his insistence of his Vulcan dominance to a carefully construed friendship.
"With whom?" she asked, a tremor unconsciously filling her tone. She wanted to know. She wanted to know what made Spock tick, what made him so mentally unable to function. In a way, she wanted to sickeningly know as well who turned her frigid Commander on.
Silence.
"Spock, with whom are you engaging in these sexual acts?"
Silence.
"Tell me."
"Forgive me Nurse Olson, for I apologize in advance for my misguidance. This matter is hard for me to vocalize. You are a beautiful, talented woman, one that I hold in great regard. Please, take no offense in this truth. In my dreams, I often engage in sexual acts with none other than your person," Spock admitted, barely able to whisper out the words.
Frozen. Nurse Olson was ultimately frozen in place. Her lips gaped open in shock; she stared at nothing in particular. What? What what what?
Uncertain, hardly daring to lock eyes with the object of his fantasies, Spock wet his lips. What he had said, what truth had transgressed here, could not be taken back. He feared the worst. He feared that this beautiful creature would laugh at his emotional, human state. He feared that he would not be able to maintain a cool exterior if she should shatter that fragile thing. Spock began to retreat, taking a step back. His fingers lingered for a moment on her smooth skin, almost reluctant to let the contact go.
When he let go of her fingers, Nurse Olson snapped to attention. "Commander!" she exclaimed, reaching for the tapered hand that had left hers. He flinched back from her grasp instinctually. Her hand faltered. Spock saw the shock in her eyes and cursed himself.
"Nurse Olson," he admitted, "I apologize."
"S'alright," she replied, though it wasn't.
"No, it's not. Not to you," he intoned, stroking her soft cheek in a way that sent shivers across the woman's skin.
"How can you tell?" she asked, curious.
"Expressive face," he said shortly. "Now, what will make you smile again?"
"Truth," she stated, stepping up closely and tracing her fingernails against his chest, "Spock. What exactly are we doing in these dreams?"
He gulped, making his Adam's apple bob. "Well, you came to me . . . er, scantily clad, and, um, you leaned down to kiss me . . . starting with my mouth and, um, getting much lower . . ."
A wolfish grin on Nurse Olson's face. That could be arranged.
"Why don't you tell me more?" she breathed against his neck, thrilled with his embarrassment over her. She then proceeded to sprinkle little pecks over the column of his throat.
"And you, um – Nurse Olson, what you are doing is highly distracting and highly . . . pleasurable," Spock grunted, his voice getting huskier, "Please desist."
"Whyever would I do that?" she smiled, brushing her mouth against the strong line of his jaw.
"Because otherwise this . . . would result in entirely unfavorable circumstances."
"Who said they were unfavorable?"
"Nurse Olson, please, we can't -," he pleaded.
"But we already have," she reminded, "In your mind. And why can't that be our reality?" He leaned in to meet her this time in a passionate clash of teeth and tongue and lips. She reached up to bury her fingers in his short hair, messing the careful cut. He grabbed uselessly at her waist, trying to pull her closer, closer, closer, but there was no inch left between the pair. No oxygen. Just breathing each other. She let her fingers linger on the curve of his pointed ear, and he moaned quietly. The nurse definitely wanted to hear more of that. "Spock," she gasped, as he grasped her rear.
His name seemed to snap him out of his lust-filled state.
"Nurse Olson," he coughed, stepping back, green rising to his face.
She smirked, trying to suck in a decent breath. He had taken all the air out of the room, it seemed like. "Hailey," she responded, "It's Hailey."
"Hailey," Spock rumbled, the corner of his mouth tweaking up, "Would you accompany me to my bedchamber to have a further discussion of my ailments?"