Leonard was lying somewhere hard. He was pretty sure it was the floor of the bathroom in his quarters, since that was the last place he remembered being. He must have drifted off, because judging by the numbness in his arm he'd been lying here for a while. If it was the floor, he must have fallen asleep on the blanket he'd been tangled in, because he wasn't cold. That wouldn't surprise him, given the way Jim had insisted on folding him up in blankets as if he were a newborn that needed swaddling.
He opened his eyes in the semi-darkness of ship's night. The first thing he saw was Jim curled up next to him, on a blanket of his own, sound asleep on the white tile. The second thing that registered was a comforter draped over them, apparently suspended over the sink and tied to the shower door handles. Leonard raised his head, noting sheets hanging down on each side, creating a square tent over them with a small opening toward the door leading to the sleeping area. They were surrounded by a nest of pillows, among which were scattered a comm, a PADD, and a juice box. A goddamn juice box.
Leonard wanted to be annoyed, but frankly he couldn't muster the energy. It wasn't that uncomfortable, even if it was pretty juvenile. It was completely in keeping with Jim's behavior; when circumstances were outside his control the kid's ability to be mature was seriously compromised. Still, it would be best if he could get up and get to the bed. After the emotional rollercoaster he'd been riding the day before, he was exhausted and knew that he'd benefit from some real sleep.
There was a tricorder among the debris, too. Leonard grabbed for it and scanned himself quietly, hoping the high pitched whine wouldn't wake the young Captain beside him. The readings appeared quickly, and Leonard stared in dull shock. His oxygen saturation was up, more than just the tri-ox injections could have accounted for. His blood pressure wasn't fluctuating nearly as badly. The other numbers were improved as well, in spite of the fact that yesterday morning he had determined that he had finally entered the inevitable downhill slide.
Maybe Spock was right. Leonard allowed himself a moment to hope, that maybe he did have a real future. Maybe he wouldn't have to break Jim's heart, after the poor kid had been abandoned over and over again in his short life. Maybe he wouldn't have to send that letter he'd written to his mother, apologizing for not being good enough to save his father or even himself. Maybe he'd live to see the results of that research project he'd started last month, after all.
He didn't want to get ahead of himself, but Leonard knew that there was no other explanation for the upswing in the readings. The cure was working, and with rest and lots of calories he should be back to work soon. Not that Spock was likely to let him go back until the two weeks was up, since he claimed to follow Selik's orders so carefully. And God, Selik. He'd have to write a long damn thank-you note for this. Maybe send him some fuzzy socks and a bottle of expensive chocolate liqueur.
In the meantime... Leonard reached out a hand and smacked Jim across the face. The kid startled awake, blue eyes barely sparking in the faint light as he blinked blearily.
"Hey Bones," he slurred. "You okay? Need anything?"
"The fuck is this, Jim?" Leonard gestured to the tent over them.
"Blanket fort, duh. No girls allowed." Jim stretched.
Leonard stared. "You are so fucking weird." he said.
"You barfed, and fell asleep, and I didn't want to move you because Spock thinks you're delicate and I might have dropped you."
"So your solution was to build us a clubhouse. What am I, a doctor or a second grader?"
"I'm starved. You want breakfast?"
"Oh, nice deflection. Breakfast? It's the middle of the night!"
"Dinner, then. Whatever." Jim got up. "Spock says you need three thousand calories per twenty four hours. You're at least going to drink some of that purple stuff."
Leonard knew that he was right, but he resented being told what to do. He also resented this damn blanket fort, but frankly it was kind of comfortable. Jim came back with a bowl of steaming oatmeal and a glass of the purple electrolyte drink.
"Look, there's peaches and cream in your oatmeal!" said Jim, as if that were some kind of novelty.
"Oh, and when did you have time to program that in?" Leonard took a small bite. It wasn't bad, for replicated fare. But he knew that yesterday there hadn't been oatmeal with peaches in the replicator. His stomach protested the second he swallowed and he put the spoon back down.
"While you were drugged incoherent last night."
"Dammit, Jim, just because I'm from Georgia don't mean everything has to be about peaches."
"Pfft, if I were from Georgia it would be All Peaches, All the Time."
"But you ain't, you're from Iowa, and I don't see you puttin' corn in everything."
"That's because corn is fucking boring. Peaches are exotic and delicious. Like Orions."
"You are disgusting."
"Your face is disgusting."
"The blanket fort's about to be disgusting if you don't find me one of those nausea hypos real quick." Leonard shoved the bowl away, almost spilling the purple stuff, but Jim snatched them away quickly and disappeared through V-shaped opening in the sheets. Leonard put his head down on his forearms and took a deep breath, clenching his teeth and willing himself not to vomit. A second later there was a sting at his neck and then Jim's hands under his arms.
"Do you need to get up?" Jim was saying, poised to support him should he lunge in the direction of the toilet.
"No." Leonard mumbled. "Just be still for a minute."
"Kay."
Again, he didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up to find Spock kneeling outside the blanket fort and scanning him with the tricorder. He wasn't in uniform, just his blacks, and he looked almost like a curious cat as he took in the blanket fort, the pillow nest, and the juice box.
"Your numbers are much improved from last night, Doctor." he said, tilting his head to one side. "What manner of construction is this?"
"It's a god-be-damned blanket fort, Spock." Leonard rolled over to find Jim plastered to his side, which wasn't an unusual occurrence for when they fell asleep on the same surface. The kid gravitated toward warmth, and Leonard had learned to tolerate it because he knew that the contact helped him sleep more deeply and warded off nightmares. Spock was still staring. "It's a thing human kids do. They think it's..." he waved a hand, looking for the right word. "Cozy. Like they're shielded from the real world, or something. A psychological thing."
"Ah, I see." Spock eyed the blonde, who was starting to stir. "You derive comfort from the closeness and intimacy of being confined together in a small space."
Well, goddamn. For somebody who claimed that emotions were useless and illogical, Spock sure could come up with some insightful bullshit when he was inclined to.
"Somethin' like that. Jim, get the fuck off me." Leonard struggled against the kid's dead weight and the tangle of blankets.
"Captain, you are due on the bridge in an hour." Spock said loudly, and Jim finally roused. "It would be prudent to return to your quarters and prepare."
"Right, right." Jim struggled up, just as tangled in the blankets as Leonard was. "You take good care of Bones, call me if you need anything. I'll bring lunch, okay?"
Leonard swatted Jim's hands away as they tried to pat him on the head, growling obscenities. Spock had brought a handful of hypos with him and began administering them while Jim got his boots on and left. Leonard laid still and allowed himself to be dosed with vitamins and minerals, analgesics, anti-emetics and tri-ox. He didn't like it, but knew that there was no logical argument he could make that would deter his Vulcan babysitter.
He was surprised when Spock brought him a plate of French toast and a glass of pineapple juice in the blanket fort. He'd expected Spock to disassemble the damn thing, not indulge the humans in their emotional crutches. Still, he guessed it couldn't hurt anything to leave it. And Jim would be delighted if he came back with lunch and found Leonard still here. He ate the French toast slowly, deciding he might as well leave it for that long, and after lunch he would take it down and get in bed.
Spock appeared again, squatting at the opening, a dubious look on his face.
"Would you prefer that I sit in the... fort... with you?" he said, looking supremely uncomfortable.
Leonard choked on the toast, snorting helplessly into a nearby pillow. He pictured Spock, ramrod straight, shiny hair brushing the ceiling as he attempted to study a PADD amidst the pillows. Spock, for his part, said nothing, but took the almost empty plate away before Leonard disrupted it and got syrup all over the fort.
"No, Spock," he finally gasped, tears streaming down his face. "No, the fort was really for Jim, not me. You can sit wherever you like."
"Very well." Spock stood. "Do let me know if you require anything. I will download and complete your paperwork for the day."
"You don't have to do that, I can get up later and take care of it."
"Perhaps you can, but you will not. If I find any difficulty I will bring it to the fort."
Spock settled himself at the desk in the other room while Leonard decided to take a shower, hoping it might ease the deep ache in his muscles. It had set in about two months ago and steadily grown worse as he developed a tolerance to one pain med after another. He had resigned himself to living with it for the remainder of his time, but now that survival was possible he found himself impatient to get rid of it. He locked the door and turned the shower on as hot as he could stand, then stripped and stepped in carefully.
The hot water went a long way toward soothing the ache, and Leonard found himself standing under the spray for longer than he probably should have. It was a waste of water, but damn it was good to be an officer and have access to real water rather than just sonics. It wasn't something he took advantage of all the time, but since he'd been sick it had made the difference between getting through another day or calling it a lost cause.
He toweled off gingerly, his skin overly sensitive and red from the shower, and called up clean pajamas from the recycler. He had plenty in the dresser in his sleeping area, but since he was already standing here he might as well not bother. He opened the door back up, locking it opened, and crawled back into the ridiculous fort. Spock was still at the desk, focused on work but probably paying careful attention to Leonard's activities as well. Leonard grabbed the PADD from among the pillows and looked over the last twelve hours of logs from medical.
Nothing much had happened, just a couple of minor burns and a case of tendonitis. The other doctors and the head nurse had it covered, which reduced Leonard's stress level considerably. He didn't want to be off for two damn weeks.
On the other hand, being off for two weeks was better than being deceased. Leonard wasn't an optimist, but he figured that this was one of those times when you've got to look on the bright side.
He woke up—Jesus, when did he start sleeping all the time like this?—with Jim crawling into the fort and setting a tray in front of him. He peeled his cheek off the PADD it was pillowed on as he raised up on his elbows, seeing meatloaf, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, two rolls, a dish of peach ice cream and a glass of iced tea. Leonard glared at him, but Jim just grinned.
"I told the cooks you weren't feeling well, so they fixed you up." he held up a couple of hypos. "Better have these first so you don't lose it in ten minutes."
Leonard held still and let Jim dose him, then dug in while Jim came back with his own tray of pizza, chicken wings and cinnamon rolls.
"You eat too much bread." Leonard complained.
"You shut your whore mouth," said Jim around a mouthful of starch, "there is no such thing as too much bread."
Spock appeared at the bathroom door and eyed them both warily.
"What's up, Spock?" said Jim, "Want to join our secret club?"
"I merely wished to point out that you are eating lunch in a bathroom." Said Spock placidly. He was clearly disgusted by the idea, but too polite to actually say so.
"So tonight I'll move the fort behind the bed, problem solved."
"Like hell, you're takin' it down as soon as we're done with lunch."
"Oh come on Bones, you know being sick is more fun in a blanket fort. I'll dig up a flash light and we can tell ghost stories before bed, how's that?"
"Why are you such a fucking child?"
"Says the dude who spent all morning in a blanket fort."
"Did not. I took a shower."
"Next to the blanket fort."
Spock moved away and went back to his own steamed vegetables and pasta, clearly at a loss to interpret this exchange.
Leonard couldn't quite finish his plate, but Jim took his tray and left the ice cream for him. He came back a minute later and fluffed the pillows and straightened the blankets while Leonard swore at him.
"I've got to go back to the bridge for about three hours," he said, "but I'll be back with snacks. Be good for Spock and play nice and I'll bring you a special treat."
Jim slipped away before Leonard could hurl the ice cream bowl at him. Spock came and scanned him again, telling him that his numbers were steadily climbing.
"You may not feel better immediately, but your red blood cell count is steadily decreasing and your oxygen saturation is stabilizing." he said, kneeling in the fort's opening. "I will send these scans to Selik through subspace and have him confirm that they are consistent with what he expects to see. Do you require anything?"
"Yeah, a fuckin' stimulant." Leonard muttered, rubbing his face. "I'm tired of all this sleepin'."
Spock almost-frowned. "I do not believe that would be wise, Doctor. You have overexerted yourself for weeks when you should have been resting, and now that you have been forced off duty by your illness, your body is compensating. I suggest that if you feel compelled to sleep, you should sleep."
"I've got shit to do, no time to sleep."
"Doctor, I personally deleted your schedule yesterday. You do not have 'shit to do.'"
Leonard raised his head sharply, eyes widening at the Vulcan.
"Did you just say 'shit'?"
"It was a direct quote." The face was as perfectly neutral as usual. "You should sleep, Doctor. I will mention the sleeping to Selik in my message. Perhaps he has some insight." Spock rose and took his leave, turning the bathroom light off behind him but leaving the door open.
Leonard stared after him for a moment, then nestled down into the blankets with a curse. Spock just said shit. That was one for the books, that was. He'd have to remember to tell Jim when he came back.
He woke up tucked into his bed with Spock leaning over him. He could hear someone banging around in the bathroom, presumably Jim.
"What 'm I doin' here?" he said. Spock handed him a peach flavored protein shake. "Dammit, that's enough with the peaches!"
"Jim wished to relocate the fort, so I returned you to your bed a half hour ago." said Spock, pointing a tricorder at him. He lowered his voice. "Selik has informed me that your progress is in line with his expectations and that you will make a full recovery. He also indicated that you should sleep as much as you are inclined to. His own Doctor McCoy suffered from fatigue for months after his treatment, falling asleep in many inappropriate places. With the improved formula, however, you should move past this stage in only a few weeks."
"Lovely," growled Leonard. He sat up against the weight of a million blankets and sipped the damn peach shake.
"I am due on gamma shift, but I will return when my shift is over."
Jim appeared, pajama-clad with an armful of blankets, and set about building the fort back between the edge of Leonard's bed and the side of the nearby dresser, using the nightstand as a corner. The opening now faced toward the desk. He dragged more pillows and blankets into it than were strictly necessary.
"There," he said finally. "All ready for breakfast." He flopped onto the bed with Leonard. "Want something to eat?"
"No."
"Too bad, you're getting chicken and rice." he pulled a plate seemingly out of nowhere and shoved it into Leonard's lap.
"Dammit, Jim! I already drank this fruity shit!"
"Eat it, or I'll read you a story."
Leonard rolled his eyes. Jim puttered around while he ate. Leonard ignored him and put on his most disgruntled face. Jim finally lighted on a chair by the bed, straddling it backwards like he was one of the cool kids or something. He leaned forward over the chair's back, resting his head on his folded arms.
"So," he said. "Spock told me everything."
Leonard chuckled. "Spock didn't tell you shit."
Jim sighed dramatically. "Ok, no, he didn't tell me shit. But I know you have something worse than the flu."
"Whatever, kid." He held out the half-empty plate. "Get this outta my face."
Jim took the plate and chucked it into the replicator, where it disappeared.
"Look," he said, sitting back down. "You don't have to tell me, 'cause I know how you are about being sick. Just promise me that you're going to get better, ok?"
"Knock it off with the sad puppy face." Leonard dragged the covers up, scooting down in bed. "I ain't promisin' you anything."
"Booooneess!"
Leonard sighed. He could at least reassure the kid, without freaking him out. Maybe he'd tell him him the whole truth in a year or two, when he'd gotten over the shock himself.
"Ok, it's not the flu." he said finally. Jim pouted. "And I can't promise that everything is going to be fine, but Spock promises that it's going to be fine and all the data so far agrees with him."
"Because Spock is a doctor, now?"
"Eh, he happens to have a project involving this and his calculations are excellent. I've looked it over."
"So, you're going to get better."
"I'm getting better already, even if it doesn't look like it." Leonard patted the empty space on the bed beside him. "Bring your PADD over here and quit hovering."
Jim crawled onto the bed and settled in with an extra blanket.
"Spock is going to come back after his shift and scan me, but even the readings he took this morning are better than the ones from last night." Leonard patted the kid's arm. "He says I'll be tired for a few weeks, but I'll get over it."
"Are you sure?" the big blue eyes were wide and trusting, and Leonard ignored them savagely.
"Spock is sure, and that's good enough." Leonard called the lights down. "Now play a game or something, I'm going back to sleep."
"Ok. I'll wake you up for dinner when Spock gets here."
"Fine."
When Leonard woke up it was still semi-dark. He sat up, looked around blearily. There was a PADD on the pillow next to him, with a glowing message: SPOCK WOULDN'T LET ME WAKE YOU. GET US UP AND WE WILL HAVE DINNER.
Get us up? Leonard surveyed the dim room. He was alone in the bed, but he could definitely hear someone breathing softly nearby. He hauled himself across the mattress, leaned down, and lifted the flap of the blanket fort.
Jim and Spock were both curled up in the pillows and blankets there, sound asleep. Jim was drooling a little on his pillow. Spock looked much younger, his face relaxed his sleep, his perfect shiny hair fanned out. His pet tribble was trilling softly, perched on his chest. Moving almost on auto-pilot, Leonard grabbed his comm unit off the night stand and snapped half a dozen pictures.
Jim snuffled softly, so he let the sheet fall closed again. He had no idea how Jim had coaxed the uptight Vulcan in there, but it didn't matter. There was no way he was denying Spock the experience of waking up with Jim plastered to him like a starfish, so Leonard declined to rouse either of them. He allowed himself an evil laugh, dispensed the hypos Spock had set up for him into his left thigh, and went back to sleep.
