"Hold on," Jim catches me again and he guides me gently to the floor. He drops all our stuff and slides opens a closet door to reveal two futons.
"Jim, allow me to...assist you..." I say in broken a sentence I'm not proud of.
"You stay exactly where you are," Jim unfolds the futons and makes the beds in the side corner of the room. The room itself is somewhat smaller than I had initially figured. The floor is layered with Tatami mats and the walls are painted rice paper with the exception of one solid wooden wall.
It was no doubt designed so that the futons would only be used during the daylight hours in order to make this small apartment as multi functional as possible. I will once again be proven to be an inconvenience to Jim.
I feel a cold chill so I uncharacteristically crawl towards what I suppose will be my futon. I feel a cool sweat upon my brow. I am most definitely not enjoying the experience of the illness. This illogical feeling of being at two opposite body temperatures at the same time is unnerving.
"We can sort our stuff out later, right now I want to get something that will cure that cold," Jim says as he takes off his gold Starfleet uniform...
To put on the local clothing...
I will always place trust in Jim not to fret about his self-image in front of anyone. My Vulcan blood heats up my face, and displays a shade of green on my cheeks. Luckily for me I can defend my pride by insinuating that the cold is to blame.
"I highly doubt that if Dr. McCoy was incapable to cure this infernal cold, then you will have a lesser chance of accomplishing the task," I'm not purposely attempting to upset Jim. I'm merely stating the facts.
"Hahahaha. No Spock, this is only meant to help you feel better," Jim says as he struggles with tying a pair of pants over his regulation black trousers.
"Come here," I order, "I believe on Earth, this article was called a Hakama," his shoulders sag in defeat, Jim walks over with most of the fabric dragging behind him. I move to a kneeling position as I wrap the folds over each other and tie strings around his waist. I marvel at my work, until I realize the suggestive position we are both in and the location of where I have been staring at.
I quickly lay back down, "Might I inquire to what special remedy you desire to create on my behalf?"
Jim must have missed my awkward moment as he cheerfully says, "Chicken noodle soup. My mother used to feed it to me whenever I had the flu."
"I believe you will find that the major ingredient of your recipe is la.... a-A-CHOO!" sniffle, "lacking on this planet. Because just as on Earth, the chicken is..." My throat goes dry. It's suddenly so hard to speak.
"Oh crap, you're right Spock. Don't worry I'll figure something out," Jim has significantly less trouble with his top, "You should get some sleep, I'll be back in a jiffy."
I watch him leave through the sliding door, Jim is right. Sleep would be beneficial to regaining my health. I feel drowsy and my eyelids slowly close.
"Hey Spock, Spock," ehh what? Jim is shaking me awake. Something must be malfunctioning on the Enterprise!
"What's the matter Captain?!" I sit up as fast I as can. Ehhggg, I feel feverish. Of course, I'm on shore leave. I relax my tension.
"Haha, steady First Officer," Jim says as he puts a pillow behind my back, "I brought you something."
Jim walks towards the exit door and pulls out a covered bowl and a tray from a cloth bag. I feel better after my rest, but my state of utter uselessness is become most troublesome. Jim sets the tray in front of me and places the bowl tentatively on top of the tray. At this moment a normal human under the same circumstances would feel gratitude, I only feel shame.
"Thank you Captain," I manage to say.
"Please call me Jim. We're not working right now. Plus it feels too formal when you do that, we're friends," Jim always has a way to extract emotion from me despite my futile attempts to hide from him.
He removes the cover for the bowl to reveal Miso Soup and he puts a spoon at the side, "Now you have to drink all of it. I'm going to make us some tea."
I pick up the spoon, and scoop some soup. It tastes very salty but not unpleasant. I do as I'm ordered. Jim kneels to the floor and lifts up a section of the Tatami mat to reveal a hidden kettle he begins to boil water.
"Why do you feel satisfaction in serving me in my sickened state?" I seem to have no control over my thoughts. I had no intention to say that out loud.
Jim stopped to think about this, "I guess, it really pains me to see you hurt, I want to do anything to help you. I just like you so much," he looks directly into my eyes as he says this. I have no idea how to reply to such a statement. I open my mouth to respond...But Jim interrupts me.
"And I've had colds before, I know how it sucks to be sick," he turns back to the kettle and puts tea leaves into a sieve to steep. I turn back to face the wall. The word 'like' can be interpreted in various perspectives. Humans are frustrating in their lack of description.
"Spock," Jim catches my attention again.
"Yes Jim?"
"Finish your soup."