Jim Kirk was tired; the kind of tired that made him feel like a senile old grandmother with acute arthritis. He staggered down the corridor on autopilot, only able to walk because he did it so much he could do it in his sleep.

Well, almost. He would have laughed at that thought, if his head didn't hurt so much.

Damn Maloshans and their goddamn one-hundred five hour days. Jim may have been mumbling something to that effect, because he got a few strange looks from ensigns as he passed them. Yeah, let's see you act sane after negotiations like that.

Finally he stumbled into his room with a single thought on his mind.

Bed.

Beds were soft and nice. Beds didn't ask anything, or demand anything, or drone on and on about stupid regulations, or make him sign stuff in too many places. Beds were the best invention in the history of ever.

Jim kicked off his boots and stripped out of his shirt as he made his way across the room. The darkness soothed his headache enough that the percussion section in his skull lost a few drummers. His shins bumped into his destination, and he felt his way toward the headboard, eyes half closed. He dragged the covers back and collapsed onto the mattress, sighing in rapture. He fumbled for the sheets, burrowed in, rolled over…

And found himself nose-to-nose with his first officer.

"Spock?" Jim blinked and squinted at him. He actually looked surprised, and Jim was having trouble focusing on him because he was so close, but it was most definitely Spock. "What're you doing here?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "These are my quarters, captain."

Jim frowned and rubbed his eyes, but the image of Spock didn't go away. Slowly it occurred to him that the sheets weren't the right color, the pillow wasn't as fluffy as it should be, and the room was very warm. "Oh." He hesitated, because putting words together was really freaking hard. "How long have I been awake?"

"Approximately fifty-three point five seven hours."

"Ah." Jim thought about that for a second, then closed his eyes.

"Captain?" There was the faintest hint of uncertainty in Spock's voice. "Aren't you going to–"

"Too tired."

"But captain–"

"Shut up." Jim grumbled. "That's an order."

Hey, it worked. He smiled faintly to himself, and as he started to relax, he became aware of the delicious heat seeping into his sore muscles. He slid his hand under the covers, idly seeking the source.

"Mmmwarm." He muttered. "'S'that you?" He patted Spock's chest and sure enough, the heat was pouring off his skin, obvious even from a few inches away.

Spock jumped at the touch and abruptly sat up, shifting toward the far edge of the bed. "Captain, you are behaving irrationally."

"Come back. You're like one of those whachamacallits… a space heater." Ha. They were in space. Jim chuckled sleepily.

"I think you would find your own quarters more comfortable."

"Nuh-uh." Jim nuzzled his head farther into the pillow. It smelled clean and a little spicy. Some kind of incense? "I like it here."

Silence for a minute, but Spock spoke up right before Jim drifted off. "I believe I have work to do."

"Fine, be that way." But he wasn't jostled around, even a good five seconds later, so he forced his eyes open in confusion to see that Spock was still there. "Why aren't you getting up?"

"I am not… decent."

That woke Jim up more than the dozen or so cups of coffee he had guzzled over the past few days. He frowned and peered up at Spock, and noticed that the Vulcan was clutching the blanket against his waist, staring at the wall. "What're you, naked or something?"

Spock said nothing.

Jim wasn't sure which he found funnier, the fact that his uptight first officer slept au naturale, or Spock's reaction to him finding out. He started to laugh hysterically and couldn't stop. Hell, who needs alcohol when you can be tired?

"I fail to see what you find so amusing."

By this point it seemed like Jim was talking to a dream. He recovered from his ridiculous giggle fit and sighed. "C'mon, I don't care." He gestured vaguely and almost hit himself in the nose. "Lie down already. I know you're tired too, and it is your bed."

"Vulcans do not require–"

"'S'plenty of room. I crashed with Bones like this all the time at Academy. 'Cept he doesn't sleep in the nude…"

"Captain–"

"God damn, are all Vulcans such prudes, or is it just you? Lie down or I'll have you court marshaled for… dunno. For being a puritan."

Ok, that took way to much effort. Now the headache was threatening an encore. Jim closed his eyes, and couldn't have opened them again if his life depended on it. He hovered on the edge of total oblivion, but was somehow still very aware of Spock's presence.

Then the bed moved, the blankets shifted, and the mattress dipped as Spock settled down beside him. Bit by bit that fantastic heat returned, curling around Jim like an embrace. He was out the next instant with a smile on his lips.

Didn't think my first post would be a silly, fluffy oneshot, but this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone! XD

Might have to make this a two-parter... morning after, anyone?