In which a lethal foe is confronted and defeated, grace a Bones!Fierce.
Spock glanced up from the handheld news screen to see Kirk on the edge of the opposite side of the living room couch, obviously taking one of his frequent (five so far) unpacking breaks. He sipped orange juice from a short plastic glass, set it on the once laundry covered coffee table, and leaned back into the couch cushions, aimlessly pushing the communications panel buttons installed in the arm of the sofa. Spock sipped severely from his coffee mug, eyeing the back of Kirk's head with deserved consternation, but abruptly paused the lowering of his beverage as something distressing caught his attention.
"Jim," the captain was only halfway rotated towards his summoner before Spock had gripped his arm tightly and dragged him across a seat cushion and a half.
"Hey, Spock, easy- what are you-" fingers parted the short brown hairs at the top of his neck, barely behind his right ear.
"Doctor, come quickly," Kirk attempted to turn his head, curiosity heightened by Spock's alarmed tone, as McCoy prowled in from the kitchen, dusting rag in hand. There was a fly that he'd been chasing since breakfast that neither Spock nor Kirk was admitting had been permitted entry by his balcony. He absentmindedly placed Kirk's drinking glass on a crocheted coaster (courtesy of the neighbors, specifically Sulu) and grumbled,
"What's the matter, Spock, what's got you so ruffled?" Firm hands twisted Kirk's neck towards McCoy, earning an unnecessary wince.
"Look." The doctor leaned closer, squinting at the indicated patch of skin.
"Wooooee, Jim, would you look at that!" Spock released the captain from his restrictive grasp and he fixed McCoy with a befuddled expression.
"What, Bones, what is it?" he ran a nervous hand over the prodded area. McCoy put his hands on his hips ad smirked lopsidedly, waving the rag at Kirk as he spoke,
"You've got a good old-fashioned tick hangin' on to ya, Jim. It's been ages since I've seen one of those devils." He headed for the bathroom as he continued, "I'll just get a pair of tweezers and get 'im-"
"Tweezers?" McCoy paused, turning back to find a mortified Kirk staring at him from the couch.
"Jim, what's-"
"Please, Bones, there must be another way."
"Well, sure, Jim, but I'm just gonna pluck 'im right off-"
"Bones," Kirk lifted his hands to his face, shaking them slightly in what looked to be panic, "please, there's got to be another way." McCoy returned to the couch, perplexed by this blatant terror.
"Jim," he turned his head slightly, blinking with concern at the pleading captain, "it's just a tick. There's some high tech stuff to remove 'em, but we'd have to run to the store and buy it and I can just as easily remove it now with the tools we have." Spock looked discreetly from the horrified Kirk to the confused doctor, quietly watching the drama unfold. "Jim," McCoy put a hand on Kirk's shoulder, "what're you so afraid of?" The usually composed captain swallowed seriously and stared grimly up to his comforter.
"I don't like ticks, Bones, they just aren't right," McCoy arched an eyebrow attentively, "their looks, their- their parasitical life style, their ethics-"
"Okay, we're still talkin' about bugs here, Jim, easy on the philosophy." The doctor seated himself on the arm of the chair conversationally. "I understand there's some degree of trauma involved, but you're mature and reasonable enough to understand that these things aren't victimizing you. there's not some," he waved a hand around vaguely, "tick conspiracy that's targeted you to exterminate, I mean," Kirk continued gazing with inconsolable discomfort at his orating friend, "you just coincidentally passed by this little fella and he jumped ya." McCoy's patience wore thin as he noted the unchanged expression of mistrust and mild horror displayed by his conversation partner.
"Is it really coincidence, doctor?" McCoy's eyes twitched and his mouth opened slightly in disbelief.
"Jim, what're ya-"
"I'd rather keep it on me than suffer its removal, Bones, I'm serious."
"Give me a good cotton pickin' reason and we'll-"
"It's going to hurt," Kirk gripped the doctor's wrist imploringly.
"For God's sake, Jim, you'd think you were a three year-old!"
"Bones, please-" McCoy slapped the dusting rag on the coffee table, standing as he exclaimed,
"I'm your doctor, Jim, and I prescribe removal of the damn tick, and by God, I'm going to do it too!" He marched purposefully towards the bathroom again, leaving a devastated Kirk.
"Please, Bones-" McCoy spun around, pointing wrathfully.
"Eh! Doctor's orders! Stay right there!" He disappeared into Kirk's room (in which the only bathroom was located) with an infuriated finality. Kirk moaned piteously, sinking into despair as he buried his face in his hands. Spock rose silently and followed the doctor to assist in the hunt for the doubtless still packed death sentence of a tool.
Kirk refused to look up at McCoy entering the kitchen or Spock, close in tow. The two exchanged significant glances, one with an exasperated tint and the other as intently focused as ever. McCoy positioned himself behind the mournful captain with uncontainable sympathy. He squeezed one of the dolefully slumped shoulders amiably encouraging,
"Show a little faith, darlin'; I'm a doctor not an undertaker. I bet you won't even feel it." Spock regarded McCoy once more before taking a kitchen chair facing Kirk. He blinked meditatively, looked up to Kirk's down-turned face, looked at his hands flopped dejectedly in his lap, looked up again, and finally slowly extended one of his hands to envelop the patient's, bringing both up to rest on the table. He sighed with careful measure, glancing up at McCoy with a touch of uncertainty. The doctor, approaching the extraction site with much flitting of hands and squinting caught the Vulcan eye and barely smirked as he gave an exaggerated wink. Spock pursed his lips before raising his free hand and carefully guiding Kirk's head to rest on his shoulder. Once more he looked up at the doctor for approval and received a wordless "okay", complete with circled forefinger and thumb gesture along with vigorous nodding. Spock focused on the oven range resignedly as McCoy commented casually, "No, I doubt you'll feel a thing, Jim boy, now tell me," he delicately parted the well trimmed hair surrounding the objectionable passenger, "did ya get traumatized by ticks when you were young or is this just a phobia?"
"Well," Kirk spoke up morosely from his protected resting place, "there was a neighborhood dog I adored-"
"You strike me as a dog person-"
"and he'd just roam free so of course he'd get loads of ticks on him-"
"Uh-huh, uh-huh-"
"and I was alright with that, until this one summer-" McCoy gave Spock a sharp nod and he obligingly stroked the back of his charge's head soothingly.
"This one summer, eh?"
"Yes, this one summer, I don't know why it hadn't happened before, but this one summer I was playing in the hose in the yard and my mom came out-" McCoy squinted,
"Did she now," and walked to the sink.
"Yes, and I'd been playing with the dog earlier. She said, 'Jim, come here a second,' so I went. And she turned me around really carefully and I said, 'What, what is it?' because she was getting this really troubled look, hand over her mouth and all that. And she said, 'Jim, come inside, you're covered in ticks'. And all of sudden… I started itching. And I… I looked down… and I was covered in the things. It took," McCoy walked back to the chair and set the tweezers down, "three hours to get them off-"
"Well, I'll be, Jim-" Kirk nodded against Spock's shoulder,
"yes, three hours of unending pain."
"Well," McCoy smacked his patient heartily on the back, "I was right, ya sure didn't feel a thing." Kirk sat upright abruptly.
"What?" He turned to face a widely grinning doctor. "Bones, did you-"
"Yep," Kirk stared incredulously at the discarded tweezers, "it's been dead in the sink for, how long would you say, Spock?"
"Sixty-three point two five seconds."
"I'll take that," McCoy nodded smartly. A smile rapidly illuminated Kirk's features and he jumped to his feet, gripping McCoy's arms excitedly.
"My God, Bones, you are a magician!" The doctor laughed, dismissing the flattery with an absentminded wave, raising his eyebrows and inclining his head behind Kirk, saying,
"You better thank your nurse, too, Jim." Spock crossed his arms und leaned back in the chair, meeting Kirk's grateful gaze imperiously.
"Thank you, Spock," Kirk beamed, sparing him a friendly embrace. Spock arched his eyebrows and bobbed his head twice.
"Acknowledged. Next time, however, I think I'll simplify matters with a nerve pinch."