Once again, I'm afraid I won't be able to update next week because I'm going on holidays (*Insert yay! Here*) but I will be back by the 17th June 2017, and will hopefully be able to update once more then!
BUT! In order to make up for that, I will now, finally, give you an extra-long SPOCK!WHUMP / FLUFFY!SPOCK&KIRK SCENE!
Rachel :)
Chapter 9
Spock couldn't help but smile as he glanced around his room.
Because that was just it.
It was his room.
Spock had never owned something before.
He glanced down at the Starfleet-issued trousers and heeled boots, and the blue shirt on his bed.
They were all his, to wear, to wash, to iron, to keep.
And they actually fit him, too, which was quite a satisfying experience.
Turning back to the task at hand, he frowned at the angry green splotches marring his pale chest. One cracked rib, three bruised. None of which were healing at the rate he'd like them to, and all very easy to see due to malnourishment.
Sighing, he took into account his other injuries.
Multiple lashes criss-crossing his shoulders and back, thankfully almost healed but still twinging painfully with every sudden movement.
A roll of bandages wrapped tightly around his right shoulder to help heal the sprain, and even more gauze patching up the various flesh wounds across his chest, all of which were spotted with dark green blood.
And that damned knife wound below the knee was still bothering him.
Glancing back down at the meagre first aid box he'd managed to steal many weeks ago, he frowned at the next-to-nothing supplies remaining.
He could probably redo his back, as they were the most painful. But at the same time, the stab wounds on his chest held the highest risk of getting infected, and his shoulder was already inflamed from the extra work he'd been doing over the last few days.
And despite his current problem, the thought of the science labs brought a smile to his face.
He'd been onboard the Starship for just over a week now, and his every waking moment was filled with knowledge, experiments, and logic... Until Jim and/or Bones dragged him up for some food. But even that tedious task had become more enjoyable, especially since no one was taking the food off of him half way through.
So yea, despite the pains and aches he couldn't quite ignore, his life was currently the best he could ever remember it being. Even when his mother was still alive, he couldn't ever remember being this... this... this happy.
It was a foreign word to Spock, and even a more foreign feeling.
But back to his current problem, he frowned once more at the small red box.
He didn't have enough material to redress all his wounds, and by the end of the week, he'd have none at all.
So he had to be careful.
One wrong move and-
*WHOOSH*
"Hey Spock, I was thinking of-"
He froze.
Jim stared.
Silence.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
Bones sighed and rubbed his head against the oncoming headache as he heard the angry footsteps of his best friend coming down the hall.
He really wasn't in the mood for another one of Jim's rants.
Who cared if Uhura had called him a diva again, it wouldn't be the last time it'd happen.
And so, resigning himself to a longgg whiskey-filled evening, he sat down at his desk and counted the seconds until Jim flung open the doors.
And 3... 2... 1... *BANG*
Bones sighed and glanced up.
His heart froze.
Because there stood an angry furious frothing-at-the-mouth Jim Kirk alright... But next to him, was Spock.
A shirtless shivering Spock, being held in place by Jim's firm yet gentle grip on his left shoulder.
His uninjured shoulder, Bones corrected, staring in shock at the myriad of scars and bandages and blood that littered the Vulcan's chest. The area's that weren't white with gauze and tape, were stained green and yellow, and one particular section of bruises, littering his way-too-visible ribs were oddly enough in the shape of a... a boot.
Bones swallowed thickly and stood up.
"You need to fix him" Kirk started, "Now. The idiots gone and gotten himself hurt and-"
"Jim".
"-and he needs to be stitched and bandages and ethonoled and- and- and do we even have ethanol? Did we ever restock after that bar fight Sulu got into? Oh Starship, Bones, what if don't have ethanol? Then what-"
"Jim".
"-do we do? We're miles away from any other planet, it'll be days before we can restock. Can we use vodka? How much vodka does Chekov have? Too much? It's probably too much. But we need to- to- to stop the bleeding and bandage those cuts and find some way of-"
"JIM!"
He abruptly stopped and sharply turned to him, "What?!"
Bones continued to stare at Spock, who met his gaze evenly through half-glazed eyes, and that couldn't be good.
"Jim... the kid's been abused".
Spock couldn't help but smile at that.
Trustworthy Bones.
As blunt as ever.
It was a quality that the Vulcan liked.
He blinked as Jim's warm hand left his shoulder and there was more arguing and half-yelling and really, why was this such a big deal?!
Then another pair of arms, softer yet more calloused, doctor's hands, his brain supplied, were gently leading him over to a bed where he was told to sit so he sat and then there was even more yelling and it was cold it was so bloody cold why was it so cold too cold too cold too COLD! Why couldn't they-
And then suddenly, there was a shadow leaning over him.
"You're a filthy halfbreed, you don't need heat like the rest of us, whore".
Spock curled up further into his protective little ball, shivering violently as the cold air and rough stone floor seemed into bare skin, trying to block out the pain that was sure to come from the dark man looming over him.
"Good for nothing, that's what you are!" Satok hissed, delivering a sudden blow to his side, and Spock flinched, hearing a rib crack.
"But what did I expect? Your mother was a good for nothing whore, so why shouldn't you be? Your father should have drowned you when he had the chance!"
A sharp stab of pain sliced through his shoulder.
"Why I ever agreed to marry you is beyond me. You're worthless, hideous, stupid, so fucking stupid Spock!"
Another flash of white heat, this time, across his lower leg.
"Look at you, just lying there. Lying there and taking it, enjoying it, like the fucked-up freak that you are".
Multiple puncture wounds, somehow breaching his safe ball and hitting him in the chest.
"You're worthless. WORTHLESS, do you hear me?! Who could ever love you? You're nothing but sex on legs, Spock. And that's all you'll be ever good for".
He shivered once more, a full body jerk that tore at his new injuries.
And then he heard the buckle of a belt-
-searing white hot pain flared across his cheek, and suddenly, Spock was staring up at a very pale and very worried looking Doctor McCoy.
The second Bones realised he was in the present once more, an oxygen mask was pressed firmly to his mouth and nose, and his head was shoved unceremoniously between his legs.
"Just breathe, dammit! Breathe, you bloody hobgoblin, breathe!"
Ah yes, Spock distantly recalled, both humans and Vulcans need oxygen to survive.
He forced himself to take in a deep breath, and holy fuck did that burn his lungs and make his eyes water.
"That's it, just breathe, nice and slowly" came a shaky voice from above him, and he slowly tilted his head only to find Bones kneeling down next to him, skin paler than any other human Spock had ever seen.
"Spock? Spock can you hear me?
He frowned.
Of course he could hear him, Vulcan's had far superior hearing than humans.
He nodded.
"Okay, good. That's good... Let's get you back into bed, yea?"
The doctor let out a shuddering breath and with trembling hands, gently pulled Spock's shoulders until he was the right way up again and he was kneeling just below the older man's eye level.
Spock looked down in surprise.
Since when had he been sitting on the floor?
"Come on, up you get" Bones said again, slowly getting to his feet, careful not to make any sudden movements, hands remaining on Spock's shoulders to help him stand up.
The Vulcan did so on wobbly feet, and with a worryingly non-existent amount of protesting, the doctor was able to get him lying back down on the bed.
Spock blinked.
He was in the ship's infirmary, what was he doing there?
Jim was sitting on the bed opposite him, still in uniform but decidedly green-looking.
And not in the Vulcan way, either.
Perhaps he was sick? Spock mused, I must have come here to visit him. Maybe tripped and hit my head. That would explain it.
"Spock?"
He turned back to face the doctor.
"Spock, I'm going to... I'm going to remove these bandages now, alright?"
Bandages?
What bandages?
He frowned and glanced down at himself.
Ah, right, yes, of course.
Those bandages.
He watched in mild fascination as the doctor carefully and ever-so-slowly peeled off the gauze strips one by one, revealing a few of the re-opened wounds beneath.
"Is it alright if I stitch these up?" Bones asked, and the Vulcan looked up at him, surprised.
"It might sting a little, but some of them have torn pretty bad, and there's a higher chance of infection if I just leave them".
Spock hummed in agreement.
The doctor had a nice voice when he wasn't grumbling or growling at you.
"Alright, Spock, I'm just going to inject you with a mild sedative, okay? It will put you under for a few hours, three, four, tops, but it'll allow me to stitch these wounds easier and quicker than if you were awake. It'll also kill the pain".
Pain?
Spock didn't feel any pain.
He nodded anyway, if just to keep the man happy, and stared at the small syringe as it was carefully injected into his arm.
It felt like he was forgetting something...
He eyes fluttered shut.
Oh well, nothing that can't wait until morning, he mused.