Author's Note: I'm trying to raise the quality of my writing in my fan fiction, so I hope this is satisfactory!
I took some liberties with how the new Enterprise was rebuilt; I modelled it after the 1701-D. There is now a ship's counsellor, a common area similar to Ten-Forward, replicators and more. I figured that after the events in San Francisco, the government would pour a lot of money into the refurbishment of Star Fleet's flag ship.
PLEASE NOTE: This fic is complete! There just miiight be a sequel in the works, though...
"In short, Captain, the inhabitants of this planet are still only in the relative stone age. It would be inadvisable to make any sort of contact with the planet whatsoever."
Jim Kirk leaned forward, elbows on the table. The planet in question was revolving slowly outside the window. It was an odd, red planet surrounded by a lone silver ring. It was beautiful. At first glance, the planet appeared uninhabitable, but after several tests, it was confirmed that this planet was, in fact, M-class and could sustain humanoid life. This planet was a remarkable breakthrough in interplanetary studies and most of the crew was dying to investigate it.
"Spock, how could we pass up a completely red planet with a breathable atmosphere?" Jim asked.
"He's right, Mr. Spock." Hikaru Sulu interjected. "There's no way we could just leave this planet alone."
"We have no idea what these entities look like." Spock replied, "It could be impossible to form a plausible disguise for the landing party. It may be completely impossible to disguise ourselves as the inhabitants."
"We know they're humanoid, Spock, the scans proved that." Jim argued. "And it's not like we haven't gone on stealth missions before."
"Captain, I would remind you of the last time this ship visited an M-Class planet without proper disguise." Spock said.
"It was fun. Am I right, Sulu?" Jim asked, leaning towards Hikaru with a grin.
Spock knew full well that Jim was behaving like this solely to aggravate him.
"Absolutely, Captain! I had never docked a star ship in an ocean before." Sulu grinned back.
"I was nearly killed." Spock interjected bluntly.
Jim sighed.
"I know, Spock."
Leaning back in his chair, he looked around the table of his highest ranking officers.
"We're going to have to fly on. Star Fleet Command will have my ass on a platter if I try to pull of another stunt like what I did on Nibiru." Jim sighed.
"Thank you for seeing reason." Spock said, shuffling his papers.
Jim narrowed his eyes. "Don't get all smug, Spock."
Spock raised an eyebrow and turned to gather his belongings. Life on the new Enterprise had not been very different from life on the old, except for the unsettling knowledge that the ship and crew were alone in deep space for five long years. Spock had acclimatized rather well to life on board the ship but after only a couple days in space, Dr. McCoy's sick bay had been absolutely packed to bursting with patients. Apparently the ship's climate and gravity control had been off by a few fractions of a degree and, as a consequence, nearly every human on board had suffered from something akin to sea sickness. Dr. McCoy, for all intents and purposes, had been calling it "gravity sickness". Most of the crew had recovered but, after that incident, the Captain appointed a counsellor to deal with emotional stress caused by the malfunction. This slight malfunction reminded the whole crew that if the ship were to suddenly stop working for any reason, they were stranded many, many light years from any sort of aid at all.
The sickness had made Jim extraordinarily difficult to deal with and the pressure was starting to take its toll on Spock. On board, Jim was the only person Spock had any rapport with at all. It was no secret that the events in San Francisco two years ago had elevated him to a certain level of fame on board the Enterprise but it was also working in the opposite manner. Either people were too afraid to talk to him or were intimidated by him. Spock had spent the last two weeks since they had left Earth in largely the same manner: trying to get Jim to come to his senses while being teamed up against by the rest of the crew and officers. Jim was showing no signs of recovery so far and without Jim, Spock was entirely alone.
Spock had learned not to linger after meetings. He had nothing to say to anyone and for the most part, they had nothing to say to him. Despite the ordeals that the crew had been through together, Spock still knew very little about his fellow shipmates. The meetings always ended in the same manner: Hikaru and Pavel always left together, followed quickly by Nyota and then by Leonard and Scotty. After the break up, Nyota did not stick around very long for conversation. Jim usually left last, leaving Spock to his own devices.
Today, however, Jim hovered by the door, inspecting one of the ornamental plants.
"Captain." Spock said coming up behind him.
"Spock!" Jim said. "Look, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."
"For what, Sir?" Spock asked, feigning ignorance of Jim's inappropriate behaviour.
"For being a jerk, that's what. I shouldn't have shot you down like that in front of everyone." Jim replied.
"Apology accepted." Spock said calmly. "Can I escort you back to your quarters?"
"I'd like that, Spock, but I'm due in Sick Bay for another one of Bones' damn exams." Jim sighed, walking out of the room. He stifled a cough and waited for Spock to join him.
Spock followed, his clipboard tucked under his arm.
"The sickness is persistent." Spock observed, looking Jim over quickly. Even though most of the crew had recovered, Spock had noted that it had taken Jim an excessively long time to come back from the illness.
"Yeah, I feel like a sack of crap." Jim sighed. "I haven't eaten anything solid for the past three days."
"Captain, might I suggest trying Vulcan food? It is much... lighter than human food. It may help." Spock said.
"I can't fathom a meatless diet, Spock." Jim laughed.
"From what you have just told me, Sir, it would be logical to assume you have survived without meat for the past three days and you can therefore survive several more. Our food is highly nutritious. I recommend plomeek broth. Its restorative powers are renowned on Vulcan." Spock stated.
"Comfort food?" Jim asked, stepping into the turbolift.
"Yes, inasmuch." Spock nodded. "I believe the replicator has been programmed with the necessary recipe."
"Are you telling me you've been at the protein resequencers already? We've only had them for two weeks." Jim laughed.
"Not a protein resequencer, Captain, a replicator. Very different." Spock corrected him.
Jim rolled his eyes.
"There is nothing wrong with assuring that our new equipment is operating within acceptable parameters." Spock argued, stepping off the turbolift after Jim and following him down the hall.
"Spock, don't you have somewhere to be?" Jim asked, stopping outside of the door to Sick Bay and turning to look up at Spock.
Spock had not consciously realized he had followed Jim all the way down here and it came as a slight shock when Jim pointed it out. It was highly illogical of him to have done so when Jim had clearly stated he did not need an escort. Spock had been catching himself doing odd things like this lately; he had begun to wonder if the gravity sickness had effected him in some way after all.
"Absolutely, Captain. I will be on my way." Spock replied.
"Not that it's a bad thing, I'm just wondering." Jim chuckled.
Spock turned to leave and walk back towards the elevator, but he was stopped when Jim called after him.
"Spock! I'd love for you to show me the ropes of Vulcan chess. You've been talking so much about it." Jim called.
Spock turned around, eyebrow raised.
"Certainly." Spock replied, caught slightly off guard by the odd request.
"Sounds good. Let's meet after my appointment? Maybe around 2000 hours?" Jim suggested. "And Spock, call me Jim."
Spock nodded and waited for Jim to disappear into Sick Bay before he got back into the elevator. He had decided to head up to the common area to set up the board and to perhaps get something to eat before meeting with Jim. Spock had been perplexed by Jim's initial interest in Vulcan chess. He had thought that Jim would be the last person on this ship to consider playing it but, one night in the common area, he had watched Spock set up and play a round with one of the communication officers on board. In the short amount of time that Jim had watched, he had picked up on some of Spock's tactics and had even ruined a play by blurting out what Spock's next move would be.
A human prodigy at Vulcan chess. What an oddity. Spock thought as he stepped off the lift and into the large common area. It was laid out similarly to a restaurant – tables, chairs, an artificial fireplace and even a wet bar for those interested. Spock made his way entirely out of reflex to the table in the corner nearest to the starboard window. He had been sitting there regularly every day. He was rarely disturbed there and he found it a rather comfortable spot to both complete paperwork and to observe the goings-on on board the ship. From this vantage point he had observed, in only two weeks, the various and subtle changes in relationships amongst the crewman. For instance, he observed last week that Hikaru Sulu had become romantically involved with a fellow lieutenant by the name of Alexander Wellesley. On another occasion he had made significant progress in his understandings of human dining rituals by observing two ensigns sharing a meal. Spock had decided weeks ago that if he was going to be alone on board this ship he should at least make use of the time for observation and research.
The time moved quickly and Spock had set up the board just in time for Jim to appear at the turbolift at 2000 hours. Spock realized that he was quite looking forward to teaching Jim to play; It had been quite a while since he had had found a proper match in a Vulcan chess opponent. He thought it very likely that he had found one in Jim.
It took Jim several minutes to cross the area as people kept stopping to chat with him.
He is well admired, Spock thought, lining the figures up meticulously on the board while he waited.
"Sorry I'm late." Jim sighed, pulling out the chair next to Spock.
"You are exactly two minutes late. Hardly an inconvenience." Spock replied cooly.
"Right." Jim chuckled, leaning forward onto the table.
"Are you in good health?" Spock asked, both following the human custom to enquire as to a person's well-being and to verify that Jim was, in fact, on the mend. His illness was adding extra stress to Spock's already stressful existence.
"Apparently now I'm just fighting off some kind of stomach bug and it's totally unrelated to the gravity sickness. Just my luck." Jim said, coughing into his sleeve. "Didn't we sterilize this place completely before we left? How could a stomach bug have snuck on board?
"It is most unfortunate." Spock replied, raising an eyebrow. He noticed that the circles under Jim's eyes had darkened dramatically since they had last spoken outside of sick bay and he appeared much more pale. "Captain, my apologies if it is inappropriate to say so, but you look exhausted. Would you prefer to reschedule?"
Jim shook his head. "I'm just a little off. I'm still sharp as a tack."
"Very well, then." Spock said, "Let us begin."
Spock walked Jim through the game slowly. Despite his objections, Spock was fairly certain that Jim was too sick to be playing Vulcan chess. Jim was having trouble remembering some of the more basic rules he had picked up the first time he had seen the game played and it was troubling to Spock. 2000 hours turned into 2100 hours and by 2130, Jim's condition had worsened dramatically.
"Captain, I have to insist that I escort you to your quarters and call Dr. McCoy to tend to you." Spock said after putting the board away despite Jim's protests.
"Spock, I'm not a little kid. I can walk myself back to my own quarters." Jim said, his voice groggy.
"I must insist." Spock replied, standing up. "I do not want to have to force you."
Jim looked up at Spock through bleary eyes, his brow furrowed. He looked for a moment as if he were about to protest but changed his mind and nodded. "I guess you're right."
Spock helped Jim to his feet. He knew that Jim was suffering from a fever and that it would only get worse the longer he was on his feet so Spock tried to move as quickly as possible. By the time they had made it into the turbolift, Jim was gripping Spock's arm in order to stay standing.
"Spock, I don't think I should report for duty tonight..." Jim mumbled, leaning against Spock's arm.
"I have to agree, Captain." Spock replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the close physical contact.
"Jim. Please, call me Jim." Jim replied, managing a little laugh.
It was a short walk from the turbolift to Jim's quarters, but Spock found he was carrying the captain more than he was helping him walk. Jim admitted them into his room with a quick voice command. It was decorated with various Earth art and was rather cozy for standard-issue living quarters. Spock had never stopped to think before of the manner in which Jim would decorate the place he lived. His own quarters were rather spartan save for the candles he used for meditation before sleep. He felt slightly awkward helping Jim into his bedroom; something inside him was telling him being there was indecent.
Spock sat Jim down on the edge of the bed and crouched down in front of him.
"Please stay here while I page Dr. McCoy." Spock said to Jim.
Jim managed a nod and hung his head in his hands. Spock moved out of the bedroom and back into the main area.
"Spock to Dr. McCoy." Spock said into the communicator near the front door.
"This is McCoy."
"Doctor, your assistance is required in Captain Kirk's quarters. He is suffering from a rapid onset fever and I am... concerned."
Spock paused for a moment, slightly unsure about his choice of words.
"I'll be there as soon as I can, Spock, but we're swamped here. If he's in his quarters he's following my orders."
"Your orders, Doctor?"
"I told him to head straight to bed after his appointment. I gave him a shot of acetaminophen and told him to get his ass up there... He didn't do that did he? Dammit, I should have known to send him to bed with three armed escorts."
"You are correct, Doctor, he and I played chess at length in the common area before I insisted that I escort him to his quarters."
"Spock, I honestly think he'll be fine. I knew he was running a fever but it's nothing serious."
"Humans have a tendency to meningitis and other lethal illnesses characterized by prolonged elevated body temperatures."
"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine? And no, they haven't. Not for a couple hundred years, at least. I checked him out not two hours ago. He's fine. I'll be there as soon as I can or if I can spare someone."
"Understood, Doctor. Good day."
"Wait, wait, wait. Actually, Spock, you could be helpful. You're not on shift tonight, right?"
"No."
"Alright. Well, just stick around with him. Take his temperature. Put him to bed. Just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid like get up and try to leave. He's stubborn like that."
"Dr. McCoy, I am not a nurse." Spock said, balking slightly at the suggestion.
"Nor did I call you one. Just tuck him in and read him a story. I'll be there in an hour. McCoy out."
The line went dead and Spock stood staring at the communicator for a second. He had been looking forward to trying a new method of meditation he had read about in a biography of Surak he had brought on board and he was certainly not comfortable with being Jim's nurse while he was ill. It was... undignified.
When he walked back into Jim's bedroom, however, he instantly saw that his presence would be necessary. Jim was curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed, shivering, hugging himself tightly for warmth.
"Captain, I am under orders to ensure you get into bed." Spock said awkwardly from the doorway.
When Jim said nothing, Spock moved forwards.
"Can I get you a pair of pyjamas?" Spock asked tentatively.
Still no reply. He moved across the room to the dresser tucked into the corner. He pulled open several drawers to find pyjamas when out of the blue he wondered if Jim preferred to wear underwear in his pyjamas or to go without. The mental image of Jim without underwear popped suddenly and without warning into his mind. The sudden indecency of the thought shocked him so much he slammed the drawer closed with an unnecessary amount of force.
"Spock!" Jim exclaimed. "My head! Please be quiet!"
Placing one hand on the side of the dresser to stabilize himself, Spock felt certain now that his thought processes had been affected by something. This was the second time today that he had not been fully in control of his thoughts. He had followed Jim completely unintentionally that evening and now he was having completely inappropriate thoughts about his commanding officer. He realized that it was probably unwise, in his compromised state, to be caring for someone with a communicable disease.
Spock pulled out a pair of Star Fleet issue pyjama bottoms and a long-sleeved black top and laid them out next to Jim quickly. He decided that he would see Jim into bed and then promptly leave for a bout of intensive meditation.
"Captain, I will ask you now to please remove your clothing and to put on your pyjamas." Spock said firmly, arms behind his back.
"What are you, my mother?" Jim snorted, rolling over slowly, teeth chattering. He hoisted himself up slowly onto his elbows and then into a sitting position. "Can't Bones come up?"
"I assure you that I asked him." Spock replied.
"Well, damn." Jim sighed, coughing into his arm.
"I will wait outside for you." Spock said, stepping outside of the room and faced away from Jim. Spock found himself growing increasingly unsettled. Usually his thought processes and his behaviours were as predictable to him as the mathematical equations he had made his career around and the shift today was unnerving. The break up with Nyota had been unsettling, yes, but it had not been traumatic enough to change his very being. Their break up had been nearly six months ago now and he was certain that she was seeing other people. It was different.
"Umm... Spock?" Jim called weakly from behind him.
"Yes, Captain?" Spock said, turning around with his eyes shut.
"Look, I hate this as much as you do, but I'm having a hard time getting my socks off." Jim admitted.
"I can assist you." Spock said, opening his eyes to find Jim half naked, struggling like a child to remove his socks with shaking hands. Spock immediately felt that he was in a place he wasn't supposed to be in; he did not trust himself.
Despite finding the situation highly inappropriate, Spock got down on his knees in front of Jim and helped pull his socks off.
"I do not hate this, Jim." Spock said in response to what Jim had said earlier. Once again, Spock was caught off-guard by what he was saying.
Jim didn't reply, but he seemed to relax slightly.
"There." Spock said, folding the socks and then tucking them gently into the laundry bin. "Could you please put your shirt on and get underneath the covers."
Unfortunately, the shirt was inside out and Jim handed it to Spock to disentangle. Taking a seat on the bed next to him, Spock swiftly righted the shirt and motioned for Jim to put his arms up. Spock felt his insides squirm as he helped pull the shirt on over Jim's head. He was careful not to touch Jim's skin; he had a particular aversion to unnecessary physical contact. Even without touching him, Spock could feel that Jim's skin was burning hot. Jim, however, was shivering uncontrollably.
"Thank you." Jim sighed, pulling the sleeves over his hands like mittens.
Nodding, Spock carefully peeled back the covers for Jim to get underneath. Jim half-crawled, half-fell down onto the mattress and Spock covered him up. He sat next to Jim, hands folded in his lap.
"Dr. McCoy told me I should read you a story." Spock said more to himself than to Jim.
"Did he?" Jim laughed, shivering uncontrollably under the covers.
"He did. I thought you were too old for the human custom of bedtime stories." Spock replied, concerned that Jim would not be comfortable enough to sleep as he watched Jim squirm.
"He might be right. But it couldn't hurt to try." Jim laughed weakly, his teeth chattering as he spoke.
Spock was quiet for a moment, watching Jim shiver. He could feel Jim's warmth through the covers but Jim was still cold. "We Vulcan do not have many legends or stories but I could share with you some of the teachings of Surak if that would bring you comfort."
"Absolutely not." Jim said, his teeth chattering so violently he could barely speak.
Spock glanced up at the clock on the wall. It had been nearly fifteen minutes since he had called Dr. McCoy and still nobody had come from Sick Bay. Spock started to consider his options if nobody came at all. He recalled his basic medical training and tried to remember what to do for a fever. First was a shot of acetaminophen, but that had already been administered. Second was to submerge the patient in a cool bath. Spock thought it a very poor idea to attempt that as it may put Jim's system into shock. Third was in a time of crisis in sub-zero temperatures was to share body heat.
For a moment, Spock felt completely conflicted. He could potentially bring Jim much more comfort by getting into bed with him. His body temperature ran at a significantly higher temperature than the body of a human and he could warm him significantly. On the other hand, every part of him screamed that it would be beyond inappropriate and against every protocol for a subordinate to share the bed of a superior. What if Dr. McCoy or one of the nurses came in and found them in bed together and misinterpreted the situation?
"Captain..." Spock said quietly.
"Yeah?" Jim replied.
"Would it provide you with sufficient heat or comfort if I were to share my body heat with you?" Spock asked.
"You want to get in bed with me, Spock?" Jim asked with a small, embarassed chuckle.
"It is not a matter of 'wanting', Captain. I believe it may help you to recover and to go to sleep." Spock ventured. "It is, however, grossly inappropriate without your explicit consent."
"Spock, you're the last person I would ever think of as inappropriate. I would seriously accept any kind of help if it puts me out of this god damn misery." Jim replied, raising an eyebrow.
Spock nodded slowly. On the one hand, he could help his captain greatly by sharing his body heat. On the other hand, he was breaking every protocol in the book. He figured that if Jim consented and that if it were to be of help, it was his duty to serve his captain. Spock began to pull his shirt off, but was interrupted by Jim.
"Whoa, what're you doing?" Jim asked, laughing nervously.
"The easiest way to transfer body heat is through skin-to-skin contact." Spock replied matter-of-factually, removing his shirt and folding it. He placed it on the ground and stood up to remove his pants.
"Aw, seriously?" Jim whined. "Keep your underwear on, though."
Folding his pants and placing them with his shirt and socks, Spock lifted up the covers and climbed inside, folding his body up close to Jim's length-wise in the bed. Spock wrapped one arm tightly around Jim's waist and felt a wave of comfort wash over him. He could feel the shaking in Jim's body start to subside as he began to warm up. Going against all his inhibitions about physical intimacy, Spock felt extremely comfortable. He could smell Jim's cologne on the back of his neck and the shampoo he used. Spock ran his hands along Jim's arms to warm them up and he could feel the muscle underneath. Without realizing it, Spock rested his face in the back of Jim's neck and inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne.
"Spock..." Jim whispered, his voice raspy.
"Yes?" Spock answered, still caught up in the scent.
"Thank you." Jim said softly, relaxing into Spock's body, accepting his touch.
"Of course, Jim." Spock murmured.
"You called me Jim. Finally." Jim laughed quietly.
Spock didn't say anything. He had no idea how to describe the way he felt in that moment, wrapped around Jim like a blanket, the heady smell of Jim's cologne blocking his senses. Spock drew his hands slowly down Jim's arms and onto his chest and stomach, allowing himself for a brief moment to fully indulge in the wave of comfort that was crashing over him. They were silent for maybe a quarter of an hour. Spock was certain Jim was asleep.
"Your heart is racing." Jim said quietly, snapping Spock out of his thoughts.
Spock cleared his throat and pulled his hands back.
"It's okay, Spock." Jim whispered, reaching for Spock's hands and pulling them back down around his waist. "I want you here."
Spock swallowed hard. For a moment he was the one who felt as if he had a fever. He was allowing his emotions to surface and it was entirely dangerous. He knew he had not been himself and he didn't trust himself not to act inappropriately.
"Jim, I believe you are delirious." Spock said seriously, attempting to bring his hands back up to a more decent position.
"Even if I am, I want you here. I want you." Jim murmured, his voice husky. Spock could feel Jim burning up in front of him. He had no idea what Jim was trying to say but there was something in the tone of Jim's voice that intrigued him. Was it... desire in Jim's voice? Did Jim really want him?
"Jim." Spock said, attempting to harden the tone of his voice into something resembling sternness, but it came out more as a grunt as Jim backed up further into him.
"I want you, I've always wanted you." Jim persisted as if he hadn't heard Spock. "Ever since I made you angry... I wanted you then."
Spock swallowed hard. He knew exactly what Jim was referring to - the time Jim enraged him in order to take control of Enterprise after the destruction of Vulcan.
"I can feel you." Jim whispered again.
Spock bit his lip. He felt vulnerable. Human. Spock had never managed to fully suppress his human desires and one of the hardest emotions he had ever had to conquer was sexual desire. He had had to learn early that his human urges, especially the urge to mate much more often than once every seven years, were to be repressed. Pushed aside. But there was something about the smell of Jim's cologne, the warmth of his body in front of him and the deep, husky tone to Jim's voice that was awakening something inside of him he thought he had locked away since Nyota left.
This felt dangerous. Illicit. Irresistible.
"Jim, I-" Spock could barely keep himself under control.
"If you want me, Spock, now is the time." Jim whispered dreamily, pulling Spock's hands down along his body and down over his hips.
"Jim, please." Spock said, not certain whether he wanted Jim to please stop or to please keep going.
Spock knew Jim was delirious but he had a feeling that what Jim was telling him was true. Jim had wanted Spock for years and Spock had been too ignorant to see it.
"Spock, let me have you." Jim said huskily, arching his back and pushing Spock's hands lower and lower. "You want it. I can feel you."
Spock let out a small groan as Jim's ass pressed against his crotch. Spock grabbed Jim's hips and pulled him harder back against him. He knew he had to stop. Part of him was fighting for control but the other part was so wrapped up in delicious defiance that he could hardly stop himself.
"I want you here." Jim said again, grinding up against Spock.
Spock leaned his head forwards against Jim's shoulder and let out a low groan of pleasure.
"I want you here." Jim said, shivering slightly as he backed his ass up harder against Spock's hardening cock.
"I want you." Spock growled back, finally giving in.
The rational part screaming for control was shrinking. He needed to stop - Jim wasn't in his right mind. But it felt so good.
Just as Spock was running his hands up Jim's shirt, he heard a beep at the front door.
Medical. Spock thought, using all of his will power to snap out of his lust. He snatched at his clothes and pulled them on as quickly as possible. He rushed to the door, smoothing his hair down.
What had he just done?