Chapter Text
The chronometer read 2100 hours.
Kirk rubbed his eyes and yawned, wincing when the motion sent a piercing pain through his head. He still had a mission report to go through, and afterward, he had planned on reading in bed – a small pleasure he hadn’t indulged in for weeks – but it seemed like he would have to call it an early night instead.
Stretching in his chair, Kirk moved his neck from the left to the right, hoping to get rid of the kink in it but the movement only resulted in a throbbing pain in his skull, and he gave up with a wary sigh. He considered calling Bones but decided against it when he recalled the last time he had come to his friend with a stiff neck. He wasn’t in the mood for a scolding and another lecture about posture and exercise; and just the thought of walking into sickbay with its bright, blinding lights to ask one of the nurses for a painkiller made him sick. The lights in his quarters were almost too much, and Kirk had already dimmed them to twenty percent – just walking out into the corridor would likely lead to an embarrassing episode. With his luck, Spock would be the one to find him emptying his guts in front of his quarters – he could do without the experience.
It was bad enough that Bones had already seen him at some of his lowest moments – covered in puke, delirious with fever, screaming in pain – but he had signed up for that kind of stuff when he had become a doctor; Spock hadn’t. He shouldn’t have to see him like that – not least of all because it would certainly reduce Kirk’s chances with him if he puked all over Spock’s uniform. He still recalled the alarmed look on Bones’ face when he had been sick all over him after tumbling down a hill during an away mission. Kirk had lost all hope of ever getting Bones to see him as more than a friend afterward – few things were as unattractive as puke.
Kirk groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and squeezing his eyes shut when his headache increased in intensity. He should probably stop thinking about his best friends and how they were both out of his reach especially since Kirk would never be able to just settle for one of them, and he could only imagine how disgusted Spock and Bones would be at the mere mention of a polyamorous relationship. Spock would raise an eyebrow at him and inform him about the illogic of such a union, and Bones would get red in the face and yell at him. Kirk wrapped his arms around himself, shivering at the mere idea of losing his friends – or maybe it was because he was cold.
“Computer, raise the temperature by five degrees.” Sometimes the temperature in the living quarters dropped automatically at night when the computer didn’t register any movement in the room. It was a nuisance but Scotty had promised to find a solution for it. Kirk made a mental note to ask him about it in the morning, pushing his chair back and getting up, wincing when the muscles in his legs protested against the movement.
“I need to hit the gym more often,” Kirk told the empty room, stumbling the few feet over to the bed and collapsing on top of it. The Captain of the flagship shouldn’t have sore muscles from a short hike on an away mission – he hadn’t even needed to do much climbing to reach the temple for his meeting with the high priests of Delta… no Gamma – whatever the planet was called. Kirk frowned, but the information was just out of reach, and trying to focus on it only increased the pounding in his head.
Gathering his strength, Kirk kicked off his boots, crawling under the covers in his uniform. “Lights out – zero percent.” Total darkness descended upon the room, and Kirk relaxed when his headache decreased slightly, wrapping the covers tighter around his shivering body. He had worried he would be unable to fall asleep but as soon as he closed his eyes the darkness swallowed him.
OOO
Bones scanned the mess hall for a couple in blue and gold, balancing his tray as he made his way through the mess hall. He was later than usual due to a minor accident in engineering that had ended his night earlier than he would have liked. A plasma leak had caused several painful but non-lethal injuries amongst the crewmembers of the gamma shift, and Bones and his team had spent over two hours patching everyone up. By the time the last ensign had left sickbay, there was only half an hour left until the start of alpha shift. He had still decided to make his way to the mess hall – to the approval of Christine who was always at him about taking breaks – if only in the hopes to spend a few minutes with his friends. However, it looked like he could have spared himself the trip since the command dream-team was nowhere to be found.
“Doctor McCoy.”
His head wiped around at the familiar voice saying his name, and he frowned at Spock in greeting, approaching the table where he was seated. “Don’t tell me Jim is skipping breakfast?” It was unlike his friend to skip a meal if they weren’t in the middle of a crisis, and Bones felt the first tendrils of worry growing in him.
“It would be redundant to tell you what you have already noticed,” Spock remarked, but his flat tone couldn’t fool Bones. It had taken some time to realize Spock was far from being the emotionless robot he had accused him of being at the start of their mission, and even longer to learn how to read him, but now it was easy for him to see the worry plastered all over Spock’s face. It was in the tight lines around his eyes and in the way he pressed his lips together when he looked down at his half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. Sometimes Bones wondered if that was how it had started – if with every microexpression he deciphered he had come to appreciate Spock more until he had inevitably fallen for him – or if it had been the other way around. Had he been interested in Spock from the start but been too afraid to admit it even to himself, and instead restored to name-calling to get a rise out of the collected First Officer, watching him for any sign of hidden emotions out of hope? Bones didn’t know, and since the answer wouldn’t change anything about the outcome, he let it go.
“I hope the brass hasn’t called him out of bed again for a status report,” Bones muttered darkly, pushing his scrambled egg around the plate. Whenever they got in communication range of the Federation, a few admirals believed it a good idea to call Jim for a status report without taking the time differential into account. If not for the Hippocratic oath he had sworn, Bones would have sent Admiral Komack a package with a stomach virus in it after the man had Jim kept from sleep after a grueling away mission. Bones hated how lack of sleep dulled the sparkle in Jim’s eyes and the smile on his face, making him wish to tuck Jim into bed with him and allow him to rest. If he felt especially fanciful, he would imagine Spock happily joining them, so that they could hold Jim securely between them – not that either of his friends would ever want that. He was just an old country doctor after all.
“Lieutenant Uhura has informed me that we are out of direct communication range with the Federation.” Spock eyed his oatmeal as if it had insulted Surak, and put his spoon down. “Subspace messages will need a week to reach us if they are sent from the nearest Federation outpost.”
“I can’t decide if these are good or bad news.” Bones took a bite of his toast, forcing it down with a sip of orange juice. “It seems that whenever we are out of communication range, something happens that puts Jim in a tough spot but every time we are in Federation space, the brass gets it in their head to give us some bullshit to do.”
“I am not sure what the excrements of a farm animal have to do with the admiralty’s decisions.” Spock’s lips twitched at one corner. “I agree though that the Captain often has to make hard decisions without the luxury of asking advice of Starfleet Command.”
“He’s got you though.” Bones met Spock’s eyes directly over the table, noting the faint olive dusting in his cheeks. Any other day, he would have teased him about it in the hopes of seeing the color deepen but he didn’t feel up to it today. With every passing minute, his worry for Jim was growing.
“Us,” Spock corrected him, blinking once and then rising to his feet before Bones could reply. “I hope you will not mind if I leave you alone for the remainder of your breakfast, Doctor?”
No need to ask where Spock was going. “Just give me a call when you’ve checked in on him.”
“I will although I hope your services will not be needed.”
“Amen to that,” Bones muttered after Spock had left the mess hall. He choked down his toast and juice before giving up on breakfast and dumping the rest in the recycler. Bones would rather sit around sickbay to get a call from Spock ensuring him of Jim’s wellbeing, then sit in the mess hall when a medical emergency came in. Hopefully, Jim’s alarm had just short-circuited and they were all worrying for nothing – though Bones doubted it.
OOO
Spock strode down the corridor to Jim’s quarters, ignoring the confused stares he received on the way. He knew his obvious hurry would spark no small amount of rumors, and Lieutenant Uhura would undoubtedly inform him of the most entertaining ones, but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down – he might already be too late as it was. He should have checked on Jim when he had neither heard any sounds from the quarters adjoined to the bathroom nor seen any signs that Jim had already finished his morning routine. Instead, Spock had elected to stop by the botany lab before breakfast, convincing himself that Jim had selected to sleep longer than usual. He had done it a few times after especially long and exhausting missions; always arriving on the bridge in time even if his hair didn’t look as artistically tussled on these days.
A part of Spock hoped to run into Jim around the next corner; to be met with a gentle smile and a comment about having to put up with two mother hens before calling Leonard to order him to stop worrying about him – which the good doctor was no doubt doing at this very moment. For a time, this – their worry for Jim – had been the only connection between them – the only thing they could agree on. Spock couldn’t say with certainty when that had changed – when he had started to call the Doctor by his first name in his mind – but it was around the same time he had realized he couldn’t imagine a life without him. He was looking forward to friendly banter with Leonard as much as he was looking forward to an evening of chess with Jim – he was in deep trouble. Maintaining a friendship with two humans was already confusing enough; he doubted he could manage to have a romantic relationship with them – not that either man would ever want him.
With a jerk of his head, Spock pushed the distracting thoughts aside when he reached the door to Jim’s quarters. He buzzed twice in quick succession, punching his access code in when he didn’t receive an answer. The door opened to a pitch-black room, raising a red alert in his mind.
“Computer, lights to fifty percent,” Spock ordered, blinking once in the sudden brightness, and looked around for Jim. Something was wrong, even if Jim’s alarm had malfunctioned, he would have still been woken by Spock’s request for entrance.
“Jim!” Spock called, walking further into the room and over to the bed to find his friend buried beneath the blanket. His instinctive relief was short-lived when, upon pulling back the blanket, Jim still didn’t react to his presence – not even to stretch his arched back.
“Jim.” Spock touched his shoulder gently, flinching at the heat radiating through his clothing – he didn’t need a medical degree to know that Jim’s fever was dangerously high, and there was no telling how long he had already suffered from it. High fever over a prolonged time could cause irreparable brain damage and…
Spock squashed the panic welling up inside him; he didn’t have the time for it – Jim didn’t have the time. Without hesitation, Spock scooped Jim up in his arms, setting off at a fast pace toward sickbay. He was only partly aware of people jumping out of his way, sprinting down the corridor with Jim securely held in his arms, focusing only on bringing him to Leonard as fast as possible.
“Doctor McCoy!” Spock shouted, entering sickbay and not pausing to explain himself to the nurse on duty, striding to one of the biobeds to lay Jim down gently.
“No need to yell, Spock, I’m right here.” Leonard rolled his eyes at Spock, walking briskly to his side and looking at Jim. All the color drained from his face at the sight of Jim’s arched back. “Oh, shit.”