OH MAH GOD I DID IT, YOU GUYS I PASSED ALL MY FINALS AND NOW THAT THEY ARE FINALLY OVER I AM FREEEEEEE! (except for the part where I get no break and I'm already kinda swamped with my second-semester work BUT THAT'S OKAY because no exams means more time to write means Veritas more often plus other fics I've been working on and I am so EXCITED YOU HAVE NO IDEA! *flails in JOY*)

I may or may not have repeated this to the point of obnoxiousness but I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUUUUCH!

PS. To the anonymous "Me" who asked whether this was on hiatus yesterday… I hope this serves as reply enough ;D

Chapter Fifteen: In Spiritu Et Veritate

Leonard McCoy was a deceptively patient man. Oh, he liked to scold the officers he treated if it was their damn fault that they needed medical attention in the first place, and with his Captain and Best Friend James Kirk, this was very often the case... but McCoy knew that Jim would groan and complain but ultimately chuckle fondly and call him 'grumpy' and 'mean' and 'evil' without really meaning it (well, the grumpy part McCoy could sort of understand). On the topic of his health Jim was careless, reckless, and disturbingly inconsiderate of just how idiotically dangerous some of his stunts were, which was why McCoy knew that the Captain needed to hear a good scolding because no one else would do the job. And that was okay too, even.

Leonard McCoy might like to give stern lectures to the idiots who deserved them but he was deceptively patient when it came to the emotional... stuff. Emotional stuff was private and for other people to worry about; dammit man he was a doctor, not a psychologist.

Being Jim's best friend, however, meant he noticed things. And he kept quiet at first, of course he did. If Jim's bright eyes became all the more brighter when Spock was around, well, from day one that kid had been screaming 'Look at me! Notice me! I'm over here!' at the hobgoblin and that was before the two could even bear each other. If the blind fool took his sweet time in realizing what was happening to him, well, was it really McCoy's place to tell him? No, McCoy's place was after that happened, helping out, giving his advice and also teasing the hell out of his Captain for acting like such a dork.

Leonard McCoy was a deceptively patient man. Really. But when he actually saw the state his two superior officers were in that night, well, he kind of forgot.

He'd gotten Jim's frantic and almost unintelligible message to meet him at the Hospital Bay a mere two minutes ago and been worried sick. He'd had to fight the urge to sound the red alert or whatever the fuck made sirens blare all over the Starbase. He'd managed to gather that witnesses to this might be a bad idea and sent all the night-shift nurses out for replicated coffee... and after all of that, his first impression of Jim and Spock was that they had just come running to the Sickbay after having some pretty impressively rough sex. The pair were in damp science uniforms, obviously hastily thrown on, and had equally telling flushed cheeks and trickling wet hair. Jim was panting from the run and Spock's eyes had a strange sheen to them, not to mention the usual current of tension between them seemed to have been amped up to an unhealthy pitch.

"Oh my God, what have you two done?"

x

It took them a good thirty seconds of garbled explanations and trying to talk over each other to convince the doctor that no sex had been had, of any variety, including but not limited to 'rough' (and no, cuffs were at no point involved either! Jesus, Bones!).

"Then what the fuck happened?"

The lights of the large main room were dimmed to night-setting and McCoy's shout caused one of the patients sleeping in the bed nearest to them to mutter "My eardrums, please, I'm an innocent bystander."

Jim huffed a breath impatiently and pitched his voice to an urgent whisper. "Look, we'll explain after a decontamination shower. Don't tell anyone we're here, don't page the on-call doctor, don't wake anyone 'till I explain, kay?" He spoke quickly, feeling his throat start to sting like a bitch again, which served as a painful reminder that he'd inadvertently inhaled some of the poison.

McCoy's eyes widened even more, but before he could ask any questions Jim anticipated him. "No time, Bones." He choked back a cough and tried to school his features into an apologetic grimace. "Decontamination. Where...?"

"There's one next to the offices and one at the end of the room," the doctor replied automatically, and then Jim and Spock were off again, sprinting each to a different cubicle without needing to discuss it.

This time Jim stripped totally naked and let the sonic wash away until every last speck of him felt clean enough that Spock could probably eat off of—okay seriously, what was wrong with him that he still retianed his ability to think of sex even at times like these, wow. The space was small and very bright; lights glancing off of the clinically white walls, so that when Jim caught a glimpse of his reflection in the small mirror he had a very clear image of himself lit from every angle. Strangely, even after being poisoned and possibly about to die and not having slept all too well the day before, he looked almost feverishly alive; better than he had any right to, certainly. And his lips were slightly swollen, as if instead of a brutally short kiss Spock had thrown him onto the bed and worshiped his mouth for hours.

God, he had no idea what the hell that kiss had meant. If it had even—screw it, he couldn't deal with this right now.

He gulped water several times but his throat felt no better, and when he spit it out there was a pinkish tinge that was clearly a bad sign. The corrosive suspension had also left nasty wounds along his forearms, neck and back, and he still felt slightly nauseous, head buzzing unpleasantly.

"Bones?"

When he emerged from the cubicle in a white hospital gown, the Sickbay was just as dark and silent as it had been. The patients all seemed to be asleep and there was no sign of the on-call doctor, not even a nurse in sight. For a moment Jim just stood there hesitantly, trying to figure out where McCoy could have gone.

"Bones?" he called softly, looking around the cavernous room for his friend. The offices, maybe? But for all he knew some of those doors lead to supply closets instead.

Suddenly one of them swished open without warning and McCoy came rushing out with a truly frightening amount of hyposprays in his arms.

"We're going into the private rooms, come on," he said, motioning with his head.

Jim followed him to the very end of the hospital bay and through one of three similar-looking doors that led into a clean and cosy-looking two-bed setup. Inside, nurse Chapel was examining Spock's palms with gloved hands and clearly taking great pains not to touch them. His First Officer was wearing the exact same gown Jim was, except that it made Spock's dark eyes, hair and eyebrows stand out against the pale surroundings in a rather distressingly attractive way... which meant that when the Vulcan resolutely avoided meeting Jim's gaze, Jim could only be grateful.

"You need to tell us what the hell's going on, kid," McCoy demanded the moment Jim hopped onto the spare bed, legs dangling by the side. "Spock says you'll explain better than him, which let me just record that forever and play it on a loop because since when has this hobgoblin ever admitted to not being the best at something—"

"Dr McCoy," Chapel interrupted lightly, without even looking away from her task.

"Right. Anyway, was there some sort of accident in the science department? You do know eighty percent of the base is asleep at this time, right? What were you two thinking?"

"I... we weren't in the science department, that's not—"

"I suggest you begin scanning procedures while the Captain provides his explanation, to economize time and increase efficiency, doctor," Spock cut in, gaze fixed steadily forward. Before McCoy could retort to that, however, Jim slid off the bed to lean against it coolly.

"Have they even scanned you yet? And I mean a proper full-body scan, not just preliminary tricorder readings."

"You are a priority," Spock replied. Obviously, he meant that Jim was Captain and his rank gave him immediate distinction in these cases, but it was pitiful how Jim's treacherous pulse raced at his words.

"You're kidding, right?"

Spock arched one eyebrow inquisitively as if to say 'Who, me?', and the only sign of lingering conflict from earlier was a slight tightness around his eyes. Jim took a step forward to glare at Spock in a hopefully imposing way.

"Spock."

"It is not in my habit to 'kid', as you are well aware of."

"Look Jim, you are the Captain—" McCoy interjected.

Jim held up an authoritative hand to silence his CMO with so much confidence and severity that the doctor was perplexed into silence. Still looking accusingly at Spock, Jim continued. "Have you even told them that you're worse off?" he demanded.

"What?" Chapel whirled on her patient sharply. "Mr Spock, you said you were barely affected!"

McCoy turned around to face Spock as well, clearly pissed off.

"Dammit, what's going on here?"

"Check him out first," Jim said, immediately seizing his chance and pointing at Spock like he was signaling out the misbehaving child in the classroom. "He has burns all over his back. I'll explain as we—"

"As Captain of the Enterprise Jim's health must take priority," Spock interrupted sharply, the look on his face indicating that he was trying to loom while sitting on a hospital bed.

"Oh come on, Spock! Let's not do this again, please!"

"Captain—"

"That's enough." In a heartbeat Jim's voice switched back to the tougher, slightly more impersonal tone he used on the bridge. Lately this happened unconsciously, which a distant part of his brain (you know, one that wasn't occupied with either trying to figure out who wanted to kill them, ignoring the pain, ignoring the fear or ignoring the Spock) noted was something that used to take an effort before. "I mean it. You're my subordinate, remember? This is one hundred percent my decision, and you—"

"Just stop it, both of you!" McCoy snapped, looking like he was about to wring someone's neck. Jim recognized this expression; he liked to call it 'Either You Do What I'm Saying Or You DIE, Painfully And In Capital Letters'.

"You're wasting more time arguing than telling me what I need to look out for! This is a serious situation, and no amount of bickering will make it go away, so I need you both to remember who the fuck you're supposed to be and forget about the drama undoubtedly caused by having to shower together naked—"

It was at this point that Jim opened his mouth to protest that they kept their underwear on and then, wisely, closed it again.

"—because I don't know what's going on and until I do no one is making another idiotic comment, get it?"

Spock gave a curt nod. "My apologies, doctor."

"Sorry, Bones."

"Good. Now, Jim, get back on the bed and sit still because I need to scan you and before you say anything you're the Captain and it's procedure. Remember proper procedure? It's that thing you keep ignoring that got you into some pretty big trouble recently?"

"You're so mean to me," Jim grumbled, but he did as he was told.

McCoy rolled his eyes and swept the tricorder over Jim's body while the Captain did his best to try to explain what had happened. Spock didn't interrupt once; he simply sat there and let nurse Chapel fuss over him while quietly listening. Spock had a particular way of just listening that somehow made Jim more aware of getting facts exactly right for wanting to impress him with his accuracy; it was one of the constants in his crazy life that hadn't changed from the Enterprise to the Starbase, and Jim took a moment to be grateful for that.

In the middle of gesturing expressively as the doctor double-checked results, Jim discreetly glanced at Spock (he was getting to the part with the soap and he wasn't sure whether there would be any sort of appreciable reaction on that face), but the only sign of emotion he could identify were Spock's eyebrows doing that thing where the Vulcan was conveying satisfaction in the general vein of 'they scanned you first so I won, ha ha ha.' Smug bastard. Jim shot him a mock-glare and for a moment it was almost normal, almost like it used to be, and maybe they'd be okay after all.

"... and we washed it off as best we could before running over here," he concluded.

McCoy's eyebrows had shot for his hairline at some point during the tale. "So you think there's some sort of conspiracy going on in the base and tonight someone tried to kill you... with acid."

Jim shrugged nonchalantly, partly out of the desire to punish Spock for getting his way earlier because he knew his First hated it when he got infuriatingly blasé talking about his own death. "It certainly seems that way."

"Corrosion is a fucking painful way to..." the doctor trailed off with a horrified look. "Shit. Well, at least you're not dead yet, although that can't have been the easiest toxin to manufacture and I have to say it's a miracle you made it."

Nurse Chapel had finished examining Spock and was taking off her gloves. "I suppose we'll need the dermal regenerator, then?" She asked.

"Yes, and the burn-kit."

"Be right back." She cast a disapproving look at both Jim and Spock before leaving the room quietly.

There was a slightly awkward silence before Jim decided he needed to become Captain Kirk again.

"So listen, we need to page Security and Maintenance before anyone finds my room by accident," he told McCoy, forcing himself to keep talking through the raw soreness of his vocal chords. "We need to contain whatever it was, and I only hope there wasn't enough of that shit to burn a hole through the Deck, although I'm thinking not since that's risking damaged circuitry for the entire Starbase and then everyone would die, including the asshole who thought this was an actual idea."

"Jim—"

"Obviously Engineering will have to take a look at the ventilation system and make sure none of this stuff got into other rooms, although at this point I'm pretty sure it won't have or a general Red Alert would be going on. Then I need to talk to Emerett, because if he's behind this we don't want him to think we suspect him and if he isn't, well, we can use all the help we can get."

"Jim—"

"Oh yeah, and why didn't the environmental systems detect anything? No one was on their way to our quarters right now, I'm sure of it. Have they only been disabled near my room, or is it the whole Deck, or is it the entire Base? I'm sure Moss will be delighted about the 'poor heroes' possibility but it would be best if this was kept quiet—"

"Jim, this can all be done in ten minutes when I've finished deciding whether you're going to die a slow and painful death or not," McCoy said reasonably.

"I'm not sure it can—"

"Well I am, so shut up."

Jim fumed and pouted and generally behaved rather childishly after that, but he was also silent, so no one could really complain. For a few minutes, at least. Then he got tired of watching his CMO squint and hum and shake his head at his tricorder.

"So how bad is it, then?" he piped up.

"You've got minor corrosive burns nearly everywhere, and some metabolic acidosis," McCoy replied distractedly. "Also you swallowed some of it. Idiot."

Spock slid off his bed, all graceful economy of movement, and angled his head so he could peek at the results. Jim felt it was a bit of an unreasonable test of his restraint to expect him not to do the same and discreetly walk around McCoy to look over his shoulder.

He wasn't an expert on tricorder readings, by any means, but the handy little diagram of his full-body scan clearly showed where he had the worst damage, painting him in bright red colours of varying intensity according to the severity of the wound. The worst of it was obviously on his hands and neck, even though there were weird imprints in his waist and back that might've—

Suddenly Spock jerked away from the group and took a couple of steps back, his fists clenched together. Jim immediately frowned up at him, confused, and tried to read the Vulcan's stony face in vain. McCoy kept scrolling down the screen and ignored them both, which was actually his standard attitude to most of their interactions.

It was a pretty impressive reaction for Spock, but since Jim was unable to pinpoint the trigger he turned back to the readings to check if he'd missed anything. His pH levels were slightly messed up because of the acidosis, which explained the headache, the nausea and the general weakness in his limbs, but that couldn't be it. There was also a stripe of red over his hipbones where the powder had gathered in his underwear, but again, that didn't seemed to warrant... oh. Oh. He felt his stomach lurch and knew with utter certainty what Spock had seen, because it became incredibly obvious once he'd seen it too, and it could not be unseen.

As the tiny three-dimensional Captain Kirk slowly rotated on his invisible axis, a curious pattern of marks became apparent, shining bright red against his pixelated flesh, and they were faint but perfectly distinguishable. Like a map of what had happened.

It must have been too hot for him to really feel any pain, or maybe the flood of want making his brain kiss-stupid was enough that he hadn't noticed the burns at the time, but now he could clearly see that Spock must have seared the acid into his skin. Despite the fact that their temporary insanity had been so brief Spock still seemed to have managed to leave trails across his back, large handprints on his sides, and a pattern of fingerprints on his waist where he'd gripped Jim to press him up against the wall, twice (once to restrain him and once to, well, ravish him).

Thankfully McCoy didn't seem to notice, or if he did his brain refused point-blank to process what it was seeing (Jim rather feared it was this second option, but kept quiet).

"Hey."

While his first instinct was to avoid Spock's gaze and add this to the mounting pile of 'incidents' that he had to repress until a proper conversation could be had, Jim knew that Spock would be blaming himself for those burns, even if they were very minor. So he looked over at his First behind McCoy's back and waved.

"Spock," he mouthed intently, wondering whether willing to be seen alone would be enough for the Vulcan to somehow hear him. "Hey."

Spock's head snapped up and sure enough, his eyes were dark with guilt. What to say, though? 'It's okay' wouldn't mean anything to the guy.

"Doesn't hurt," Jim mouthed soundlessly, knowing Spock could read his lips. He deliberately accompanied the words with his best and brightest grin. On at least a couple of occasions a huge, innocent smile had gotten him out of Spock's wrath of righteous fury; maybe it would pull Spock out of his self-destructive angst, too. "I'm just that awesome."

It didn't change him entirely but there was a definite easing in Spock's shoulders, so Jim took that as a win for his awesomeness, also his ability to sense when Spock needed to be reminded that his Captain was by no means made of delicate china.

"Okay, both of you get back on the beds and kindly stay there, I need to scan Spock and run several tests. I'm afraid that detox hypos will have to do for now, at least until I find a more specific compound to act as antidote," McCoy said, slightly louder than was warranted, still not looking up. Jim didn't know this, but the doctor had caught him making googly eyes at his First Officer plenty of times before, and preferred not to witness it again.

"Wait, I've still got that shit in my system?" Jim groaned. "Even after decontaminating and everything?"

"You took too long in getting here." McCoy was obviously pissed about this, which really made Jim glad that his friend didn't know half of it. "Oh, and I'll need blood samples, so you'd better lie down."

"Lie down? But blood samples—"

He actually lost consciousness for a little while after that because his damn CMO saw it fit to sedate him without his consent. Proper procedure be screwed when it was convenient for him, apparently. Fucker.

Too bad Jim secretly admired him for it.

x

The next time Jim woke was probably only a few minutes later because lethargy still crawled through his limbs and he had trouble keeping his eyes open.

Undoubtedly through some form of blackmail, nurse Chapel had managed to convince Spock to lie on his stomach and was gently but surely cleaning the wounds on his back. In his tired haze Jim didn't have any strength left not let himself feast on the sight of Spock's calm, sleeping face; the curl of want in his body growing until he could almost taste it like an unwelcome, heady flavour on his tongue.

x

Several hours and quite a few tests later Jim had a steady IV drip in his arm, newly-healed tingling skin and his neck stung from the hundreds different hypospray injections it had suffered (it had definitely felt like hundreds and he didn't care if McCoy said it couldn't be more than ten).

He was also trying to answer Commodore Emerett's questions in a mature and composed manner, and mostly doing okay. A team from Security had been immediately dispatched to clear the area to ensure no one else was in danger and gather evidence from the room discreetly, and a few trusted officers from Maintenance and Engineering had also been told what had happened, but Emerett had agreed with Jim that this needed to be kept under wraps for now. Thankfully, both Scotty and Chief Giotto had answered Jim's comm and immediately taken charge of their respective fields in the investigation.

Besides the Commodore, Jim and Spock were sharing their cosy little hospital room with Chief of Security Hayes, Dr McCoy and, as of five minutes ago, Mr Moss in a very, very bad mood.

"... need to consider the fact that you were obviously the target, Captain Kirk," Emerett was saying thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure it's just me," Jim said. "I mean yeah, out of the both of us I'm the one who was in every room that got blown up or had gravity settings fucked with or had toxic chemicals in it or whatever, but out of all those times the only really lethal, apparently deliberate attempt was when I was alone with Spock."

Next to Spock's bed, Moss made a pained face that Jim interpreted as a reaction to his last five words. Spock himself was sitting there and just listening intently again, even though he'd occasionally volunteer his point of view if it was necessary.

"Then how would you justify the other accidents? We have found no evidence of sabotage to support your theory that those were because of you. As you've rightly pointed out, zero gravity is dangerous but hardly a foolproof way of killing someone."

"I know that, but I'm sorry, I just don't believe in coincidences. Or at least not ones like these, not with my odds."

Emerett raised sceptical eyebrows but didn't press the point; it was Chief Hayes who frowned and now stepped toward Jim's bed. "A valid argument, Captain Kirk, however, it doesn't explain why it was only your room."

"What?"

"Why only your room? You say you believe you were both targets yet the substance was only introduced into your room."

Jim frowned. He'd thought he'd covered that.

"Well it's like I said, we were both there, weren't we? Makes no sense to target both rooms if Spock's was empty. Uh... he or she probably knew it would be easier to just sabotage the one air vent."

Hayes nodded. "Yes, that makes sense." Suddenly his gaze shot to Spock. "Except this means that person would have to know that you'd both be together. Is it such a common occurrence that anyone could assume you'd both be in the same room late at night?"

Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit—

"We were, uh..." faltering in hesitation was the worst thing he could have done, but Jim was, for once, at loss for words. What could he say they were doing at that hour that wouldn't sound like a cheap excuse? "... we had dinner together."

"I see."

Luckily Jim was struck by an idea that would thankfully divert everyone's minds from whatever they thought he and his First had been up to. "Actually, wait. The only way anyone would know this for sure means you've got an irregular entry on the computer locator software," he said triumphantly. "We might be able to trace that if it's a hack. Otherwise the request requires voice command and in that case we could use voice-recognition to identify the intruder."

Emerett looked... not impressed, but certainly pleasantly surprised. "That's an excellent idea. I'll get one of my programmers—"

"Captain Kirk's skill with computers might be beneficial in this instance," came Spock's voice. Jim whipped around to look at him, not having expected the praise, and his First Officer briefly met his eyes in acknowledgment. "To lessen the unnecessary involvement of other persons in the investigation."

"Captain Kirk can trace a hack in the computer system all by himself?" Chief Hayes asked doubtfully. Jim tried not to be too offended by the skepticism in his voice.

"Yup." He didn't add 'Hard to believe someone so ruggedly handsome could also be smart, right? Even though I'm the goddamn Captain of the best fucking Starship out there.' "If you'd just convince my CMO here to get these tubes off me—"

"That's tube, singular, and last time I checked your larynx was swollen and irritated, Captain, which means you wouldn't be able to eat," McCoy retorted. Jim felt like sticking his tongue out at him, but that probably wouldn't go down too well with the veterans in here.

"This can wait until tomorrow, Dr McCoy," Emerett pointed out. "In fact, I'm sure that both Captain Kirk and Commander Spock need rest right now, and we've got enough information to go on."

"That's right," Moss said, speaking for the first time in the past hour. "After this ordeal they deserve some sleep. If Dr McCoy would just allow me to speak with them for five minutes, I'd be most grateful."

Before such a reasoned, cajoling voice, the doctor couldn't really deny Moss five minutes. "Make 'em short," he grunted, and left the room. Emerett and Chief Hayes followed him out, and so Jim and Spock were left alone with their irate lawyer.

Immediately after the door had swished shut behind the other officers, Moss rounded on the pair with blazing eyes.

"I've asked you to do a few simple things for me. It should not be this difficult for you two to be apart, it really shouldn't," he grit out. "I'm trying to help you, and my advice is good, and you need to follow it if you want to win, because this ridiculous codependency of yours is going to end you."

"Your assessment—" Spock began curtly.

"No. You're supposed to be the reasonable one, and it's only recently that I'm beginning to get why the charges go both ways and don't just involve our dear Captain Kirk losing his head whenever you're in danger," Moss snapped at Spock. "There is nothing logical about what you two did tonight and if you can't even go a couple of days without eating together then that should mean something to you. Are you just that stubborn that you still want to refuse everything?"

"Leave him the fuck alone—" Jim began angrily.

"And you," the dramatic pointing finger of accusation would have been a bit over the top if it weren't for the fact that Moss's eyes were flashing dangerously, and Jim was suddenly and truly afraid of what insight might spill out of the lawyer's mouth. "I think I'm beginning to get you. You're a hard one to interpret, maybe even worse than Mr Spock, and he's the one whose culture denies emotion. You cover everything up with smiles and jokes but deep down there's still something of a rebel trapped inside all the bureaucratic jumble, isn't there? You still like testing limits, pushing and pushing until you know you're waiting for someone to say you've gone too far."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Jim bit out, hating that for a moment he'd wondered whether that was actually true.

"Mr Moss you have no right to insult Captain Kirk," Spock said, eyes shadowed with anger. "Or to claim any knowledge of the workings of his mind."

Moss ignored them both. "And hey, if you had to go and get caught in a scandalous forbidden romance, well, God forbid it was boring, like an affair with your female Yeoman or something! No, that would be too easy, wouldn't it? Too cliché! Not only is Mr Spock male and your First Officer, but he's not even your same species! He's half-Vulcan!"

"Enough!" Jim snapped loudly. "Stop it! I get that you're pissed and this is bad for our image and shit, but for fuck's sake Spock could have died a few hours ago!" Fisting his fingers around the sheets was pulling uncomfortably at his arm where the IV was inserted but Jim could not, at this moment, care less. "You don't get to storm in here and yell at us for this. You can be mad tomorrow because it was late and we shouldn't have eating dinner together, but it wasn't our fault that someone tried to kill us."

Moss's jaw was clenched angrily, but he didn't interrupt.

"Spock has severe chemical burns all over his back and my throat feels like shit—" as if to emphasise this point, his voice rasped and broke on that last word. "—and at this very moment the toxin from whatever-the-fuck melted my shelves is still being pumped out of our systems. So that's enough of the yelling about our emotionally stunted brains."

"I'm yelling at you because I'm worried," Moss said finally, and he still looked mad but he ran a hand through his gray hair in defeat. "We can still beat this but I'm tired of having to overcome the setbacks you cram yourselves into because you didn't do as I say. You'd think the two of you would have learned by now."

"Your anger is no excuse to insult the Captain," Spock said after a short pause. Jim resolutely ignored the way this made him feel.

"I… apologise for the outburst. But you two need to get your shit together soon, you hear me?"

"Will you punch me if I say we're just really, really misunderstood?" Jim said with a smirk that he knew wouldn't quite reach his eyes. Moss smiled faintly and shook his head.

"You need rest. And I'm sorry. I'll be yelling at you in a couple of days, then."

"Can't wait."

When Moss had gone Jim realised that this was the first time he and Spock were alone in a room since the last time they'd been alone in a room. With a tub in it. That they had kissed in. Once. Memorably, though.

"Spock, you think we should talk?"

Spock's bed was silent for a pretty long time, but Jim didn't want to give him the satisfaction of shifting to lie on his side and check whether Spock was looking at him or not.

"Humans have an innate need to voice their opinions," Spock said finally, rather flatly, not like he was thinking of starting a philosophical debate over the matter.

"And half-Vulcan Science Officers tend to act like repressed idiots."

There was a short pause. "I am the only half-Vulcan Science Officer in the fleet."

"Well done, Sherlock."

He knew Spock would know who Sherlock Holmes was; he'd quoted him once, after all, more than a year ago.

"Look Spock, we have to talk about what happened. You can't pretend it didn't."

"That was not my intention, Captain, however your unnecessary dasire to dwell on the incident—"

"Call me Captain again and I'll… uh, I'll…" he could only come up with sex threats (so not really threats), why could he only come up with sex threats? "…I'll do something dirty, but not in the fun way; in the nasty, you'll-wish-you-hadn't-done-it way."

"It might be prudent to postpone a conversation temporarily. You have not yet slept without drug-inducement."

Jim glared at the ceiling. "You saying I sound drugged?"

"No more than usual, Captain." Spock was obviously way too calm about calling Jim's bluff.

"You're playing with fire here, my friend."

Spock didn't even deign that with an answer.

"Why do you keep calling it 'the incident'?" Jim murmured finally. He hated the way his voice sounded when he asked. Hated the way his whole body tensed in anticipation of the ever-dreaded word 'mistake', even though he rationally knew that that was exactly what it had been and Spock, more than anyone, would have every right to call it that.

"A discussion at this time is innapropriate. You must rest," Spock said, his voice gone softer too.

"Fine, but we will talk about this." It wasn't a question; Jim wasn't going to let it.

"Yes, Captain. As you wish."

"Okay then. So… good night, I guess."

There was a faint rustle of covers from Spock's bed and Jim finally turned his head to watch the Vulcan lie on his side with his back to him.

"Good night, Jim."

"'Night."

Watching the delicate tip of his ear and the gentle curve of his neck, Jim thought that restraint should feel like ropes around his wrists and ankles keeping him away from Spock, but instead the space between them just felt like a whole lot of air that seemed to be getting thinner.

So this isn't super long or anything but I figured you guys would prefer having it now and then a longer chappie soon (and BOY is the next chapter full of STUFF… that I'm not telling you about yet ;D). Also I will take this quick A/N to apologise for the totally unexpected hiatus… you've all been so amazing and understanding about it! *smooches* Thank you so much, seriously. Waking up at 4 am to study biochemistry was never part of The Plan XD