Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"I'm starting to think we should've gone with the lava," Jim Kirk rasped, knuckles white, fingers digging into his biceps. His limbs trembled and a fine sheen of sweat coated his skin; however, when he looked up at his first officer, he managed a tight grin. "I somehow feel like we picked the short straw this time."

Spock quirked an eyebrow up, but refrained from commenting on the idiom. He steepled his hands in front of him, lips pressed to his joined forefingers, and when he spoke, his voice was calm. "The trial by fire the natives offered only gave us an eight point two percent chance of survival; conversely, the administering of the mainosetum flower nectar was merely supposed to depress the central nervous system in a similar manner of the archaic Terran benzodiazepine as well provide minor hormonal spikes in order for them to properly gauge our sincerity of our intentions for the accidental faux pas-"

"Truth serum," Jim supplied. He tried to suck in a lungful of the stale prison cell air, but the sound was tight and wet. Alarms rang in Spock's ears as he tried to diagnose the cough. "You're rambling, Spock," he managed after a second.

"Vulcans do not ramble," Spock reminded him; he hesitated and then said lowly, "I did not take into account the chance you would have an adverse allergic reaction to the flower, Captain. Jim."

"It's cool," he told Spock as another shudder racked his body. "I didn't know I was allergic to it, either. And you're right: this is slightly better than surfing through boiling lava." Jim's lips thinned as he tried to clear his throat. "We missed our check-in; it won't be long before Scotty beams us up. I'll be fine."

"Our scheduled check-in was thirty eight point eight minutes ago. Mr. Scott, having received no response from either of us, should have immediately locked onto our signal and transported us aboard." Spock allowed himself a minute frown, jaw working as he attempted to continue to dispel the lingering effects of the flower from his body. "It is possible he will not be able to locate us for some time-"

"What do you want me to do Spock?" Jim hissed. "There's officially nothing left in my stomach to barf up." Jim's arm twitched and then a moment later he reached over to fist his hand tightly in Spock's tunic. "Sorry," he mumbled, finally allowing himself to collapse against Spock's shoulder. "How're you doing?"

"My controls are functioning adequately," Spock answered quietly, gently brushing a strand of hair from Jim's forehead. His skin felt abnormally clammy, even for a Human. "However, I cannot feel anything from you at the moment, even through skin-to-skin contact."

"Uhura's gonna kill me if I broke her favorite Vulcan," Jim joked, his grip tightening momentarily.

Spock exhaled minutely through his nose. "As I am the only Vulcan aboard the Enterprise-"

"You must be feeling better," Jim interrupted again, slotting his head in the juncture of Spock's neck and shoulder, "if you're getting all literal on me. Good." Jim sniffled and then coughed again and that spark of panic was rising back up in Spock's side as he watched the Human beside him struggling for breath. "Now would-" Jim gasped, "now-would-be a g-great time-"

"Do not speak," Spock ordered firmly, lifting Jim off of him so he could lay him flat on the stone floor.

"Usuall-y my-" Jim choked again and Spock pressed his fingertips to the meld points, grasping in a way he was sure would bruise the Human later. Swelling usually happens immediately, if at all, I don't unders- Jim's eyes slowly slid shut and the tension in his body went slack.

"Breathe," Spock demanded, tilting the Captain's chin up with his free hand. He released his fingers from Jim's face to pinch his nose and pushed a strong breath of air down his throat. He repeated the motion twice, thrice, and then a fourth time before he felt the familiar tingle of the transporter beam crawling down his neck. When he looked up again, they were in the transporter room and Spock immediately sat up, hissing, "Doctor."

McCoy shoved Spock out of the way almost violently, stabbing a hypo into the side of Jim's neck. Jim's eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply, shaking hands going to his throat. He took into another gulp of air. "Bones," Jim whispered and then his eyes moved to Spock, fingers twitching in a little wave.

"Come on, you impulsive little thorn-in-my-side," McCoy barked, yanking him up off the floor. "We need to filter the rest of that shit out of your system before your heart explodes. March."

Spock straightened at that, "Doctor, I do not think-"

"Figure of speech," Bones snapped, jabbing a finger at the Vulcan. "You drank it, too, right? Then get your ass to sickbay, too."

"I can assure you, Doctor, I have already begun the processes necessary for removing the drug from my system, and as such, have no need to go to sickbay," Spock said, arching one eyebrow as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Just go, Spock," Jim croaked beside McCoy. "I don't wanna take any chances." He looked to the transporter tech then. "Did everyone else make it back alright...?"

The tech looked vaguely uncomfortable. "All except for Batista, sir."

Jim's lips thinned again and he gave a brusque nod. "Alright, Bones, let's get this over with so I can get back to the bridge."

"Oh, no," McCoy said, tightening his grip on Jim's shoulder. "You show up on my ship with your damn first officer attempting CPR and you don't get to call the shots. You're confined to your quarters for twenty-four hours - and that's after I release you from sickbay."

Jim made a sour face before turning back to Spock. He raised one brow in a meek imitation of his Vulcan First. "Well, Mr. Spock?"

Spock repressed the urge to sigh. Perhaps the drug had a stronger effect on him than he'd realized. "Yes, Captain."

***

Spock was allowed to leave sickbay not even thirty minutes after his arrival; however the Captain had been detained for another six point four two hours before Spock heard his entrance, stumbling his way into their conjoined bathroom and turning on the sonics.

Four and a half minutes after that, Spock heard a small crash and rose from his meditation mat, padding over to the bathroom door. "Captain?" he called out. "Are you well?"

There was another muffled thud and Spock manually overrode the door lock. He strode in and stared down at Kirk half-collapsed outside the shower, one hand braced on the edge of the toilet to keep him upright.

"'M fine," Jim mumbled, still trying to stand up. "Just got a little dizzy, is all."

"Did you withhold these symptoms from Doctor McCoy in order to be released from sickbay?" Spock asked with his usual amount of Vulcan snark, nevertheless moving to assist him into a standing position.

"Wasn't so bad until I got out of the turbolift," Jim insisted, fingers tightening around Spock's bicep momentarily before he released him. "I'm okay now. I'm just gonna sleep it off." He moved around Spock, grabbed the pair of pants on the sink, and tugged them on.

"I would prefer to make sure you arrive safely in your quarters," Spock told him and Jim shot him a strange look, lips twitching as he fought to keep the smile down.

"Yeah alright," he murmured, fingers brushing against Spock's shirtsleeve as he passed. Spock blinked at the contact, but followed him out. Once in his room, Jim fell bonelessly to the sheets before grinning up at the Vulcan. "Safe in my quarters," he quipped as he stretched.

Spock's teeth clenched momentarily before he said, "It was my recommendation to consume the mainosetum and the responsibility of your physical reaction is mine; I will be making a note in my mission report."

Jim's grin fell and he looked up at Spock, pushing himself to a sitting position. "Spock, you may have made the recommendation, but I am the captain. You were right - we had a better chance of getting out of that than with their freaky fireball ceremony. So I had a little trouble breathing at the end there-" Spock shot him the Vulcan equivalent of a withering glare (that is, the narrowing of one eyebrow and slight purse of his lips), "-but it all turned out fine. Look." Jim reached up and offered his forearm to Spock. "You could tell if I was in distress, right?"

Spock contemplated the man's arm for a split-second before lightly settling his fingertips across Jim's skin. His lids lowered. "Your autonomic functions are within the acceptable parameters."

Jim smiled again, a healthy flush sliding up his torso to his face. "That's what I thought," he whispered; Jim twisted his arm so he could brush his hand across Spock's, fingers tickling the Vulcan's palm. His feet slid down to the floor and Jim stood, nose bumping Spock's. "I'm gonna kiss you now," Jim rasped and Spock let out a shiver.

Spock nodded once and allowed himself to fall.

***

When Jim woke the next morning, the first thing his sleep-addled brain noticed was the calculating stare of his dark-eyed first officer.

"It would appear," Spock said slowly, gaze never wavering from Jim's horror-struck face, "that the mainosetum's effects had not yet been completely purged from our systems."

"You're telling me," Jim croaked, hauling himself off the pillow. He closed his eyes and pressed his thumb and forefinger to his lids, rubbing them softly. "Do we have to talk about this? Can you just, I don't know, leave the sexual harassment memo on my desk and I'll sign off on it later?"

"Unnecessary, Captain," Spock replied, already pulling his clothes on. "As I have no intention of filing such report, I will return to my quarters for a brief meditation before alpha shift. You are," Spock looked distinctly uncomfortable for a second, "of course welcome to file your own harassment claim."

"No," Jim said immediately. "No, definitely not. We can just, never talk about this ever again? Uhura is going to kill me."

"You are aware that the Lieutenant and I-" Spock started.

Jim waved him off. "Everyone is aware that you and Lt. Uhura broke up, Spock, but it is like, so against the bro-code to sleep with friends' exes without even a heads up, you know?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "'Bro-code', Captain?" Jim shot him a slightly exasperated look and Spock continued with, "Furthermore, seeing how neither of us planned this congress-" (Jim's expression turned slightly ill) "-in advance, a 'heads up', as you describe it, would not have been possible."

"I'm gonna go get breakfast now," Jim blurted, darting into the bathroom.

"Captain." Spock held back the urge to notate the abruptness of the subject change. "Unless you wish for me to enter into the corridor to return to my rooms, I will need you to vacate the restroom."

"It's not locked," Jim called through the door, "and apparently you've already seen me naked, so it's not like it matters."

"Humans are quite illogical," Spock murmured to himself as he strode through the bathroom.

"The illogical Human heard that!" Jim laughed and Spock quirked his customary brow before slipping into his own rooms.

***

Bones ambushed Jim with a medical tricorder as soon as he got to the mess. "Your progesterone's still a little high," McCoy grumbled softly, staring down at the readings. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

Jim nearly choked on his coffee. Well, I accidentally slept with my Vulcan first officer last night, thanks for asking! "Fine," he answered eventually; Jim shoved a mouthful of eggs into his mouth before he could say anything stupid. "But you would know, seeing how you spent about five hours watching me puke up nothing."

"Had to get that shit out somehow, Jimbo," McCoy told him with a grin. He clapped Jim on the shoulder, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I am also pretty sure I changed your meal card from eggs to oatmeal in the morning."

Jim eyed Bones innocently. "Did you? Huh. That's so weird." He stuffed a slice of toast in his mouth and began to chew, thoughts drifting to last night. Shit was about to get supremely awkward, Jim noted glumly, and fought down the heat rising in his cheeks. Best way to fuck up your friendship six ways from Sunday? Sleep with the guy. See: Gary Mitchell, second year.

"You sure you're alright, Jim?" Bones asked, already reaching for his tricorder again.

Jim scowled. "I'm fine. Just a little tired from puking up almost all of my internal organs all last night." He grabbed a strip of bacon and snapped a sarcastic salute. "Well, duty calls."

The amount of awkward that greeted Kirk on the bridge started out in metric tons and snowballed out from there. Spock spent the entirety of alpha shift tight-lipped, blank-faced (even for him), and the one time Jim moved to clap him on the shoulder he very nearly flinched out of his tunic. When Jim had turned back around to slink back to his captain's chair, he caught himself under the scrutiny of Uhura's hawk-stare and fought very hard not to shrink away himself. He took a deep breath and said, "Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

Maybe a few hours in engineering would do them both some good.

***

A little over a week (and innumerable hours spent hiding in various dark corners of the Enterprise) later, Jim took a moment to himself to wonder if maybe he and Spock should've talked after all. Things seemed... distant between them. While his first officer hadn't made any overt attempts to avoid him, it was almost as if a switch had been flipped between them - as if they'd taken two steps back in their friendship and Jim had nowhere to grab at but open air. It was like trying to cross a bottomless chasm with him at one end and Spock at the other.

Jim frowned at his own melodrama, pushing the bowl in front of him off to the side. He was allowed to miss his friend, damn it.

"Wait, were you actually eating oatmeal?" Bones asked, plopping down in the seat across from him. "No hacked eggs or bacon today?"

As if on cue, a sharp pain laced through Jim's lower abdomen; he grimaced. "No thanks," Jim muttered, "my stomach's been bothering me the past few days."

"Maybe if you didn't eat all that replicated fried shit, it wouldn't come back to bite you in the ass," McCoy told him around a sip of juice, but he stilled as Jim's face scrunched slightly. "Jim, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Bones," he insisted, hunching over. "It's cool, I'll be fine in a minute."

Bones shook his head and stood. "Come on down to sickbay and I'll give you a hypo. You been gettin' enough fiber?"

Jim made a face. "Why do you think I was eating oatmeal?" he grumbled as he followed suit, smoothing the tension from his face. "I can't: alpha shift starts in ten minutes and I don't have time to make a trip down for a hypo."

McCoy thwacked him lightly on the arm. "You really want to subject your crew to eight plus hours of you whining about your stomachache? You can be a few minutes late, it's fine."

And if Jim's easy acquiescence to McCoy's reasoning wasn't an indication something was wrong, the readings that appeared on the medical tricorder he swiped over Jim were. "Lie back," Bones ordered gruffly, already moving to jab a finger at the intercom. "McCoy to the bridge."

"Bones, what?" Jim squawked, moving to get off the biobed.

"Sit your stubborn ass down," Bones snapped just as Spock's voice filtered through the small speaker.

"Spock here."

"Jim's gonna be late for his shift - doctor's orders," McCoy continued, ignoring Jim's continued insistences that he was fine Bones, and what the fuck? "I'll call you back when I know when."

There was a pause and then: "Very well. Spock out."

Jim frowned, his eyebrows knitting tightly together. "What the hell was that all about?"

Bones pointed to the monitor above Jim's bed. "Jim, your heartrate's at one fifty, your blood pressure's nearing levels of hypotension, and while your temperature and brain activity aren't too abnormal, they're well outside your norms." His voice lost its normal gruffness, and McCoy quietly said, "Sit back down, Jim."

Jim nodded dumbly, lying back against the biobed, and offered his elbow up for Bones to take a blood sample.

"How long's your stomach been bothering you?" he asked, feeding it into the tricorder and frowning at the results. He tossed it to the side and grabbed another one from a drawer.

"Not too long, maybe like four days?" Jim's lips twitched when Bones grabbed his arm again.

"Your hormones are all over the place," Bones muttered, flicking a finger at the tricorder. "They can't both be off." He turned back to Jim. "When's the last time you had a bowel movement?" Jim made a face. "Come on, Captain, now's not the time for modesty."

Jim sighed. "I don't know, maybe a week ago?"

McCoy's eyebrow crawled up his forehead in mild alarm. "Jesus kid, hold on, let me-" He pressed his fingers against Jim's lower stomach.

Jim let out a hiss. "Ow, Bones."

Bones picked up a third tricorder, pulling up a new screen and scanning it over his abdomen. "Jim, you've got some kind of growth on your colon."

"What?" Jim started to get up again and Bones pushed him back down.

"If you try to get up one more time I am going to strap you down," McCoy threatened, pointing a finger in warning at Jim. His eyes swept back to the tricorder and he cursed. "You're gonna have to miss your shift entirely, kid. Possibly the next few shifts, too."

"What's going on?" Jim asked him, suddenly steel-faced.

"Don't know," McCoy answered, moving back to the intercom. "I'm gonna have to open you up and poke around. McCoy to the bridge."

"Is everything alright, Doctor?" Spock's response came noticeably quicker this time.

"Shuffle the next few days' shifts around," McCoy answered without really answering. "The Captain's officially on medical leave."

"Doctor?"

"Have a good day, Mr. Spock," McCoy told him, then flipped the intercom to a different frequency. "Nurse Chapel, I'm going to need you to assist."

"Everything's gonna be fine, Jim," McCoy promised him.

Jim wasn't so sure.