More chapters - hope y'all like it! Also, thanks to Tai for identifying an error in the previous chapters - it has been fixed :)
Disclaimer: Boy, I wish.
For the fifth time in ten minutes, Bones has to restrain himself from physically shoving Spock aside and doing the whole thing himself. The Vulcan had done an adept job so far at learning what basic medicines to administer and the procedures needed for minor wounds – "Child's play on Vulcan," he had sniffed while Bones tried not to grit his teeth – but he really was terrible at being a doctor in any other area.
Case in point - the patient currently staring up at the pair of them obviously has no idea what in the good name of Starfleet is going on. "Say that again?" he asks, visibly puzzled by the overly technical terms Spock is spouting.
"I am not quite sure how you are not comprehending this, Ensign Proudian. It appears as though you are suffering ill effects primarily caused by the imbibition of excessive drink. This is further exacerbated by your consumption of mussels, which, I believe-" Spock glances at Ensign Proudian's file. "-you are allergic to. Symptoms include your frequent episodes of regurgitation-"
Proudian retches and Bones hands over the already half-full pail as the poor ensign empties out his stomach contents. Spock blithely continues as though nothing else is happening. "-complaints of headaches, adversity to light… Ensign, I must ask you. Did you drink any alcohol last night?"
"No," the poor man groans into the pail, voice coming up as a hollow echo. "I was on shift."
"And the mussels?" Spock asks.
"Dinner. I didn't know that the soup was clam chowder."
"There aren't any mussels in clam chowder," Bones says dryly.
"Actually, Mr. Spock-"
A vicious glare from Bones is enough to shut Spock up for once.
"Well, I don't know," Proudian moans, finally coming up for air, face pale and sweaty. "Can't you just give me a sedative or something?"
"Negative," Spock says, still reading through Proudian's file. "It says here, Ensign, that you are a 'recovering alcohol addict'."
"That was five years ago, Doctor," Proudian protests. "I hardly see how that's relevant."
"On the contrary, Ensign Proudian, it is relevant. Were you drinking last night?"
"Doctor," Bones says in a warning tone.
"I don't have to deal with this," the ensign says with as much indignation as he can manage while going particularly pale with green edges. "I'm going to my room, Doctor McCoy. I will inform the Captain that I am unfit for duty." With a backwards glare, he shuffles out of the room, still clutching his pail. Bones winces as he hears a familiar retch in the hall about ten steps away from the door.
"Good job," he says wearily. "You've just scared away a patient."
Spock only shrugs and turns away. "An officer who is drinking while on duty ought not to be on this ship-"
"He wasn't drinking," Bones growls, suddenly angry, and it's worse because he doesn't know if he's mad at Spock or if he's mad at everything in general. "Damn it, Spock, if you had an ounce of medical training in you, you would know that that man was suffering from a case of Yuhoggen roundworm. They exist in clams and only affect those who are allergic to clams or mussels." He throws up his hands and stalks to the other side of the bed. "The point is that when you're the CMO, health comes first, lectures come later!"
"Is that what you are doing right now?" Spock asks with what Bones classifies as 'snark'.
"My God, man, we came here to learn how to be each other, but the more I'm with you the more I realize that we're completely different!"
"Didn't we establish this earlier?" Spock asks coldly.
"Yeah, we did." Bones scowls darkly. "I'm not sure why I thought things would be any different."
"Because you are human and I am not, Doctor," Spock responds. "You rely on illogical assumptions while we rely on what we know to be true."
"You green-blooded hobgoblin-"
"Kids," Kirk says from the doorway. Both men turn to look at him. "You two know that I enjoy a fight just as much as anyone else, but not now." He strides into the room, shutting the door and locking it. "We need to talk."
"The only talking I'll be doing is over his dead body," Bones snaps, jerking his head at Spock. "You know where to find me, Jim."
"Yes, the medical bay, and we're standing in it," Kirk says sarcastically. "Stay, Bones. That is an order from your captain."
"Don't you pull the rank card on me-"
"Please, Bones, I could pull a lot of cards on you," Kirk snorts. Even though Spock's physical frame is taller than he is, he holds his ground and stares Bones down. "Sit. That goes for you too, Spock."
When all three of them have calmed down sufficiently – two, really, since Spock appears to be the only calm one in this mess – Kirk begins to speak. "I don't know what the hell is wrong now, but we have bigger problems than the both of you trading barbed insults. Which, by the way, is refreshing when you aren't insulting me."
Stony silence. Kirk feels the half-smile slip off his face. "Fine. Don't respond. Whatever." He flicks something on his screen, and a holographic projection appears in the middle of the room, showing a planet revolving slowly. "Argelia. Spock. Tell me everything you know about it."
"Specifically which elements, Captain?"
"Anything you think might be important. I don't want a history lesson. Why are they so desperate to come after us?"
"No resources. Dwindling population." Spock blinks twice. "It goes against reasoning as to why they would choose to attack us rather than befriend us."
"Exactly. That's what I thought, too."
"All by yourself?" Bones asks, still grumpy.
Kirk valiantly ignores the jab and continues to thoughtfully spin the hologram around. "So why are they attacking us then? There's nothing our ship can offer that would help them."
"We offered them protection in the Federation in return for the safe passage through the Argelian Belt," Spock says. "That alone would provide reasonable grounds for their cooperation."
Kirk drums his fingers against his arm in agitation. "There's something here that I'm missing. Is there a puppetmaster involved that maybe we don't know about?"
"Another Khan?" Bones asks, feeling a familiar pit in his stomach.
"Not as sophisticated," Spock says, joining Kirk. His fingers are laced behind his back, back rigid as though he is standing at attention. "No, I doubt there is a puppetmaster. If there is such a person, they would have levied their demands through the Argelian admiral by now."
"Maybe they're just mad because the Spock they expected wasn't the Spock they got," Bones suggests. "You did make a point about how they were a stickler for the rules."
"No… it doesn't feel that simple." Kirk rubs his face.
"Nothing ever is, Captain," Spock says philosophically.
"Thank you, Spock. You're always such a ray of sunshine."
Spock looks at Bones. "I assume that that is your human equivalent of Vulcan wit," he drawls.
"Oh, it's your human equivalent now, is it?" Bones growls.
"Don't disappoint me, Doctor. I assumed there would be a more colorful metaphor to go along with your newest attempt to elicit an emotional response."
"Kids," Kirk says, trying to maintain an aura of composure, but Bones roars: "I'll give you a colorful metaphor for you to think about!"
"Bones, wait-"
Later on, Chekov, Sulu and the rest of the crew gape at a battered Kirk when he limps onto the bridge. "Don't ask," he grumps, flinching as he settles himself down into the captain's chair with a very visible favouring of his right leg. "Just… I don't know. Get me some ice. Or something."
"Should I get the doctor? Or the nurses?" Chekov asks in alarm.
"If you bring Doctor McCoy up here, Mr. Chekov, so help me I will tear you apart and demote you to engineering for the rest of your life." Kirk winces. "Just ice. Please."
He meets Sulu's gaze as Chekov scrambles off the bridge, looking mildly terrified. "Stop looking so amused."
"Sorry, Captain." But Sulu is unable to keep the tiny smirk from twitching around the corners of his mouth. "Bit of a scrimmage with the doctor and Mr. Spock?"
"Nothing as bad as the bear you had to wrestle that one time we were on Pandorica."
Sulu makes a noise of assent as the doors slide open and Chekov rushes in with a bag of ice. "Thanks, Mr. Chekov," Kirk says, grimacing as he bends down to apply the ice to his rapidly swelling ankle. "Let's all just pretend that this never happened."
The whole bridge hesitates.
"Now," Kirk repeats with emphasis. "It wasn't a question. As you were."
Some days I think about how being on the Enterprise would be so much fun, but then I think about the near death experiences and I'm like "Meehh, maybe not."
Much love,
ohlookrandom