Inedible - (5 Parts)

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Awww. Poor Kirk.

[swann_ee_song]

With great responsibility comes frequent illness? =B

Or at least, that's how I'd like to look at it....

Nice job!

[Masking]

"Bones," Kirk said loudly, and shook the sleeping man harder. "Booooonessss..."

McCoy's eyes wearily opened, focusing to glare at Kirk. "Whaddya want now, Jim?" he rasped, his voice thick with sleep, and glanced at the clock. "Dammit, it's too early for you to wake me up. It's Sunday, Jim."

"You want any breakfast?" Kirk grinned at him and held up a box of cereal. "Andorian Crisps! The best part of your complete breakfast!"

McCoy made a face and sat up. "That's disgusting. I think I'll pass." His nose twitched, and he scrubbed at it with the back of one hand before launching forward with a huge "Huh'haschhu!"

"Bless you," Kirk said, and raised an eyebrow. "That was enormous. Hey," he added with a wicked smile, "that's what she said, am I right or am I right?"

"You're rarely right," McCoy told him, with a sniffle. "For someone who thought he was dyin' three days ago, you're pretty damn chipper."

"Aw, c'mon, Bones," Kirk protested. "I'm always pretty damn chipper. Except when I get dumped. Well, publicly. Um, well, when I get dumped publicly and then get a drink dumped over my head. Actually, come to think of it -"

"Spare it." McCoy held up one hand and shuddered. "I don't want to hear about your shenanigans. They're too...hhuh...h'uschhuh! Eh'ashhu!"

"My shenanigans," Kirk said loftily, "are freaking legendary. Remember that time I got really drunk and tried to hack into Admiral Archer's network? It was pretty cool, except, y'know, for the whole Starfleet Academy network shutting down thing. Stupid firewalls."

"Yeah, yeah, I remember - October fifteenth," McCoy groaned. "Goddammit, Jim, feels like you got me sick." He rubbed at his nose with his hand again, pinched the bridge of it between his finger and thumb - Kirk frowned, that had to be aching - and sighed. "Shit." And promptly sneezed again. "Ah...h'hashhah!""

"Looks like I did," Kirk agreed, and reached out to palm McCoy's forehead. "You got a fever?"

"Maybe," McCoy said, and grabbed his tricorder from his bedside table. "You're the one that got me sick - now you hold this thing over my head, all right? Self-diagnoses are too damn difficult."

"Sure," Kirk said, and took the tricorder. "Can I be Doctor Kirk afterwards?"

"No."

"Damn."

[ichixshiro14]

I love these sooo much

[swann_ee_song]

Wow... Jim was way too perky for me this morning. But I laughed anyway!

And Bones just made me want to hug him and cuddle him back to bed, poor man.

[Masking]

"'Ey, willya get doon from there!" Commander Montgomery Scott snapped at Lieutenant Keenser. "It's no' a climbin' frame! How many times do I hiv'tae tell ya before y'listen? Happen you'll git yerself hurt, an' then see if I help ya." He shook his head and looked up at the Gorman again. "Eh, sorry, didnae mean t'lecture. I'm feelin' that wee bit off."

Keenser made a derisive gesture with his hand, one that was approximately equivalent to a raised eyebrow. "Sick," he said, his odd high-pitched voice drifting out from among the machine skeletons.

"Och, nah." Scotty dismissed that with a flap of his own hand. "Nae but a stress cold. I'll be right as rain in a few hours, lad, see if I amn't*." He snuffled and wiped his red nose on his hand before letting loose with a loud "Hah'ashhuh!" He sniffled again, his nose running, and shook his head as if to clear it. "Bless me, I s'pose. Happen I'd nae be havin' a cold if some'un'd get doon an' do his feckin' job!"

"Point," Keenser conceded, and with a loud thump, dropped down onto the engine room floor (eliciting a wince from Scotty). "Eat."

"I've repairs to be doin'," Scotty said. "I'll get a sandwich in a bit, a'right? Now go check the dilithium levels, ya wee good-fer-nothin' berk." At that, Keenser made a slightly more elaborate hand gesture, this one so rude as to be equivalent to nothing, and stumped off. Scotty snorted as he stared after him. "Protein nibs must've done somethin' t'his brain, what there was of it," he muttered, and then pitched forward into his hands with more sneezes. "Hh'ahhkshh! Eshhuh! Ih'ieshh!" Shite, but this was the sneeziest he'd ever been. Bad luck, it was, especially with pending repairs in one of the central Jeffries tubes.

The sound of footsteps behind him broke Scotty's concentration, and he spun around, expecting either Keenser or one of the ensigns - probably that gormless thing from Rigel who couldn't hold a spanner right-side-up, no telling how he got into Starfleet. Instead, a slim female figure emerged into the lights of Engineering: Lieutenant Uhura. "What're ya doin' here, lass?" he asked, surprised. "It's no' yer shift?"

Uhura shook her head. "No, and it's not yours, either," she said. "You've been working sixteen hours straight - are you sure you're all right?"

"Ah, nothin' t'worry aboot," Scotty assured her. "There's nae time t'rest, no' with this grand lady breakin' something every minute or three. I'm just fine, dunnae ya fash yerself." He was just about to pat her shoulder when he realized that this was Lieutenant Uhura and quickly jerked his hand back. He'd been spending far too much time around Keenser, that was for certain. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he hastily added, "I'll eat in a b-bit...hh'eshhah!"

"Bless you," Uhura said, and laid a hand against Scotty's forehead, over his spluttering protests. "Too sweaty. You're overheating yourself, and you're obviously sick into the bargain. Why don't you come up and have something to eat, then rest? I'm sure someone else can fix whatever is broken."

"Oh, aye - m-maybe," Scotty stuttered, focused on the fact that, on the way down from his disgustingly sweaty forehead, her hand had brushed his oversensitive nose. "L-lass, move," he said, his breath coming out in gasps. "I-I'm gonnae...eh'hischhiu! H'ishh! Hhih-ehh...ehishhh!" Tears were forced out of his eyes by the jolting strength of the sneezes, and he raised a hand to wipe them, as well as his nose. "I'b sorry."

As his vision cleared, he could see that Uhura was proffering a wad of tissues. "Here," she told him, her face concerned, "take these, okay?"

"Och, thank ya!" he breathed, and snatched the tissues, turning away from her to blow his nose. "That's aye a bit better." He wiped at his nose with the tissues before crumpling them and turning to face Uhura. His face had to be the reddest it had ever been; he could feel the flush burning there. "Can ya leave me in peace, now?" he asked. "I'll rest later."

She shook her head. "You're sick," she insisted.

"Aye. I know."

And then she, slight little Lieutenant Uhura, grabbed his hand and yanked. "You're coming with me," she told him, in a voice that made it abundantly clear to Scotty exactly why she held so much authority, bridge crew and all that. "Sickbay, mess hall, your quarters for a nap."

"With you?" he joked with a weak smile.

Uhura's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Maybe I'll snuggle you, if you're good. Now come on."

He went.

- - - - -

*amn't: common Scottish usage of "am not."

[swann_ee_song]

I'm just loving your use of "amn't". Seriously your dialect could rival Robbie Burns.

[ichixshiro14]

Your language is superb, i really enjoyed reading this one, thanks for sharing! You have the greatest story ideas, honestly, can I borrow your brain? hehe

[TheCakeIsAlive]

squeeeee! Scotty!

uhm... I mean... yes, that Ooh... very lovely update and I love your Scottish spellings and Nyota being all sweet and concerned and in the process producing delicious uhm... effects.

[Masking]

"Worst away mission ever," Kirk said aloud to the empty hallway, and shivered. It had been bad enough that the dilithium negotiations with the Betazoids on Bueda Prime had taken ages longer than they should have, but to get caught in a rainstorm on top of that? Absolutely hellish. Rainwater was still dripping from his clothes and hair, and chill bumps raced up his arms as a drop trickled off the end of his nose. Well, trickled and tickled. "Huh'eshh!" Great, like he didn't have enough problems already.

Kirk sniffled in the aftermath of the sneeze and stopped in front of the door to Spock's quarters. "Hey," he called, knocking on the door with one fist. "You in there, Spock?" The Vulcan wasn't on duty right now, so maybe if he wasn't busy, he wouldn't mind cuddling, or letting Kirk bask in his warmth, or some crap like that.

"I am here, Jim," came Spock's voice from within. Footsteps, and then the doors were sliding open and there was Spock himself. He raised an eyebrow. "Was the away mission unsuccessful?"

"Nah, just the talks took forever," Kirk answered, and walked in. It was blessedly warm in Spock's quarters, and he felt his shivering body relax a little. "And then we got caught in the rai...ehh...h'ischuh!" This sneeze, he was more than disgusted to note, was pretty wet. It was one thing when it was Spock sneezing, but when he had a messy cold sneeze...ew. He was pretty sure it was a cold that had been lurking in his immune system; after all, one couldn't get sick from being out in the rain if their immune system wasn't down already.

"Are you ill, Jim?" Spock's hand was on his shoulder, gently pushing him towards the bed - it looked very soft and inviting all of a sudden.

Kirk sat down, gratefully, and shook his head. "A little, I thigk." He winced at the congested sound of his voice, and sniffled before continuing. "Adyway, we got caught id the raid before Scotty beamed us up." He wrinkled his nose and looked at Spock, who had sat down next to him. "Hey, how cobe you wered't waiting or anythig?"

"I calculated that your chances of injury on the away mission were less than five point two seven percent, based on previous experiences that Starfleet has had with Betazoids," Spock explained, and reached into his bedside table for a handkerchief, placing it in one of Kirk's hands. "Thus, I saw no need to inconvenience myself, or you, by waiting."

"Yeah, yeah, logic and all that," Kirk said, and blew his nose into the handkerchief. "God, thanks, Spock. Anyone ever told you you're awesome?"

"You have, on ten separate occasions, during eight of which you have asked me the same question," Spock answered. He wrapped one arm around Kirk's shoulders and lightly squeezed before placing a rare kiss on the top of the captain's head. "It would be unwise not to dry yourself," he added.

Kirk sniffled again and nodded. "Yeah, I'll go back to my quarters and get a towel or something." Even though he didn't feel like moving. Gads, was he ever tired. And sneezy. "Ih'ashhuh! H'kshhu!" He brought the handkerchief to his nose for another soft blow, groaning when his head throbbed with the action. Yep. Definitely getting sick.

"Do not move." Ooh, nice. Sexy Command Tone had taken up residence in Spock's voice, thank you very much. "I will bring a towel and dry your hair." Spock looked around, as though searching for something - and apparently found it. "You may find this beneficial." He picked up a folded fleece blanket from the foot of his bed, unfolded it, and draped it around Kirk's shoulders, warmly wrapping his captain up.

"Mm. Feels nice, Spock," Kirk mumbled, and closed his eyes; even through his drying clothes, he could feel that he wasn't as cold. That was...really...

"Jim?" Oh. He must've blanked out for a second there. Kirk opened his eyes to look at Spock, who was holding a towel. "Your hair is still wet."

"Mm-yeah, yeah it is. Oh." A pleased noise escaped Kirk's mouth as Spock began to dry his hair with the warm towel. "That's..."

"Awesome?" Spock cut in, that note in his voice that let Kirk know he was teasing very much present. "I believe that that word may adequately describe this situation." He rubbed a little harder behind Kirk's ears. "Would you like to sleep in my quarters until such time as you must return to the bridge?"

"Yeah, 'd'love that." Kirk's eyes were closed again, this time in pleasure at the feel of the towel rubbing his head. "I don't have to be back there for another two shifts."

"Very well," Spock said, and kissed his forehead.

[Masking]

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Kirk, McCoy had also suffered from the effects of the rainstorm. While the captain was warmed by Spock, the doctor sat on his bed and shivered, having stripped out of his wet uniform shirt. "Goddamn rain," he said aloud, and sniffled, the action wrinkling his small upturned nose. "Just my luck, to get caught in somethin' that'd make me sick." Or sicker, as it were; he knew well that one couldn't catch a cold just from cold rain. Sure felt like it, though. "Huh...h'aschuh! Ihh...h'ieshhu!" A bolt of pain throbbed through his head, eliciting a low groan. "Damn. It."

As if to add to his pissedoffedness (yes, he knew damn well that wasn't a word, but he was going to go ahead and think it anyway), there was a knock on his door. "Great," he mumbled, and then added, louder, "C'mon in if you have to."

The door to his quarters slid open, revealing - of all the surprising things - Montgomery Scott and Nyota Uhura. McCoy raised an eyebrow. "The hell're you two doin' here?" he asked. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"There was a wee explosion in Engineerin'," Scotty said, holding up a bandaged forearm by way of explanation. "I came to get it fixed and Nyota here came with me, an' Nurse Chapel said you weren't feelin' well."

"Scotty and I thought maybe we could make you feel better," Uhura added, walking over to where McCoy sat and laying a cool hand on his forehead. McCoy's eyes closed at how good it felt; evidently, he was running a bit of a fever, if the temperature contrast was anything to go by. "What happened?"

"Damn away mission," McCoy said. "We all got caught in the universe's worst rainstorm. Must'a been something in my system before, though." He sniffled again, his nose apparently having decided to unstuff itself right then. "Jim ran off soon's we got back on the ship, the idiot."

"Aye, that sounds like him," Scotty said, and sat down beside McCoy, companionably slinging an arm around his shoulders; his brow furrowed. "You're cold, then?" he asked rhetorically. "Nyota, com'ere, would ya? He needs some warmin'."

Scotty didn't even finish his sentence before Uhura was cuddling into McCoy's other side, her arm slipping around his waist. "You are cold!" she exclaimed. The doctor shivered again, his nose twitching, as their heat began to soak into him. "Poor guy," she said, a little softer, and laid her head on his shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll get you nice and warmed up, all right?"

"Wait a minute." McCoy turned his head to look at both of them. "This is nice and all, but aren't y'all together?" He wrinkled his nose at the feel of a sudden tickle and brought a hand up to sneeze into, not wanting to accidentally spray either Scotty or Uhura. "Huh'ashh!"

"Bless you," Scotty said, echoed by Uhura. "Aye, we're together." He pressed a light kiss to McCoy's temple, his lips softer and warmer than McCoy would have expected. "It's no' necessarily just the both of us. Thought ya knew that." He looked at Uhura in consternation. "We should've been a bit more clear about it."

"Maybe," Uhura agreed. "But if this makes you uncomfortable, Doctor McCoy..."

McCoy shook his head. "God, no. I wouldn't mind at all - it's just th...that...hhuh...h'ushhuh! H'aschh! Hh...huh...ah'ESCHuu!" He doubled over, sneezing violently into his cupped hands and giving a miserable sniffle when he was finally through. "Y'all don't have to call me 'doctor,'" he said, his voice muffled by the hands still firmly clasped over his nose. "'Leonard' is fine."

"Bless you." Uhura's voice was gentle, but her hands were firm as she took McCoy's hands away and (where she'd gotten them, he didn't know) pressed a handful of tissues to his nose; her thumb pressed down on one of his nostrils, blocking it off. "Blow."

"I'b a doctor, dot a child," McCoy protested, his voice muffled and pinched behind the tissues.

"It's all right," Scotty encouraged, lightly squeezing McCoy's hand in his own. "Go on. It'll feel better."

"You're out of your Scottish mind," McCoy sighed, and acquiesced, his cheeks reddening as he blew his nose into the tissues.

"Good," Uhura said, and adjusted her grip. "Again, Leonard. Just one more time." He blew again, quicker this time, feeling some of the pain in his head leave along with the congestion. She wiped his nose before removing the tissues and leaning in to kiss McCoy's mouth, slightly swollen from his cold. "Do you feel better?"

McCoy nodded. "A little, yeah." He wasn't quite so cold anymore, he realized, despite the fact that he was still only in his undershirt, and blushed further before muttering "Thanks."

"Anytime," Scotty told him with a grin. "Now take those boots off an' we'll tuck you in."

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Woohoo, updates . And wow... Scotty, Uhura and Bones? That's kind of awesome.

And more Spock? YAY (yes, wrong order, sorry, I know )

[swann_ee_song]

...Would it be rude if I said this might've crossed the line into crack? Just a wee bitty bit?

That being said I still liked it. Lots. Especially pissedoffedness. That's my new word of the day!

[Masking]

...Would it be rude if I said this might've crossed the line into crack? Just a wee bitty bit?

That being said I still liked it. Lots. Especially pissedoffedness. That's my new word of the day!

Okay, ouch. That's not how I meant it to appear.

[RSB]

Might've been a bit crackish but I still reaaaaaaaaaaally liked it. Certainly wouldn't complain if there were a mix of crack & non-crack.

[ID2006]

Love love loving this

[Masking]

OK, I'm just going to preface this entry with a side note: this is TOS. Or, more specifically, a memory of TOS, with reboot!Pike/Spock Prime as the catalyst.

- - - - -

Spock propped himself up on one elbow and looked, for a long moment, at the sleeping man beside him. Christopher Pike was exceptionally attractive at all times, ruggedly handsome in a way that Spock found most appealing. But when he slept, his face relaxed into a soft abandon that was almost endearing, especially in a man of his stature and rank.

It was at times like this that he thought of Jim...his Jim. James Tiberius Kirk of...well, of the prime universe, had died in 2371, sixteen years before Nero's black hole sent Spock back in time. Before that, they had been separated for seventy-eight years, when Kirk was caught in the Nexus. Spock had all but given up on ever finding his bondmate, even going so far as to marry Saavik, when Kirk had reappeared.

And then he had died.

For one of the few times in his long life, Spock had cried, alone, like a child.

It was at times like these that he remembered lying propped up in bed on his own Enterprise, watching Kirk sleep. And it was at times like these that his mind began to wander, back to the times when he and Kirk had first begun to show interest in each other.

- - - - -

"Congratulations, hobgoblin," McCoy said dryly, with another glance at his tricorder. "You're sick. A cold, to be exact, but you probably already knew that."

Spock could only sniffle in reply; he knew that if he tried to speak, his normally deep voice would be congested and scratchy. At the age of thirty-six, he had caught the embarrassing Terran disease known as 'the common cold' - for the first time in his life. Perhaps he had picked it up on his last shore leave, but were that the case, would more crew members not be sick? At any rate, he felt terrible. His throat hurt, his lungs were congested, and his nose...tickled. "Hh'eschhuh!" He managed to catch the sneeze in his sleeve, feeling his cheeks heat up as he did so.

"Bless you," McCoy told him with a wicked grin.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I am unfamiliar with the phrase, Doctor. I have not encountered a situation that requires a blessing, either literal or figurative."

"It's just something polite y'say when someone sneezes, you green-blooded computer," the doctor retorted. "Manners? Good judgment? Common sense? Heard of 'em? Didn't think so. Now get the hell outta my sickbay."

"Bones?" Spock turned his head, only to see - of all the ridiculous, embarrassing situations - Captain Kirk. Or "Jim", as the man liked to be called when he and Spock played chess. "You said something's wrong with Spock? I got here as fast as I could."

"Stop being such a drama queen," McCoy grumbled. "He has a cold, that's all. First time he's ever been sick, from what he's told me."

"The male in question is in full possession of his auditory capabilities," Spock said with a sniffle. McCoy was truly insufferable at times - and in front of a man he wanted to impress, that attitude was unacceptable. He outranked the doctor; why did McCoy treat him as a subordinate?

"The male in question is currently running a low-grade fever and is probably off his rocker," McCoy said without looking at him; he was still making eye contact with the captain. Spock suddenly felt something dark and possessive invade his bloodstream. "Dammit, Jim, I'm running a sickbay here, not the rec room! Get the hell outta here or make yourself useful."

"Useful, huh?" Kirk raised an eyebrow at McCoy before turning to Spock. "How're you feeling, Spock?"

"I'm leaving," McCoy muttered and, with a roll of his blue eyes, did just that.

Spock wasn't quite sure how to respond. Of course he felt, but he didn't think that Kirk was asking about his well-controlled emotional state. "I am slightly ill," he finally replied; this was the truth, and the reply most likely to satisfy the captain's query.

"That's what I heard." Surprisingly enough, Kirk actually sat down on the biobed next to Spock, gold-hazel eyes bright and concerned. "You've never had a cold before?"

Spock shook his head and sniffled again; his nose was beginning to run, a development that did not please him in the slightest. "I have never contracted this illness before." And he didn't intend to do so again, if he could at all help it. His nose was tickling again, and it didn't seem like he was going to be able to will it away. Sneezing was strange. "Hhuh'ishhu!" He ducked his head into his sleeve again, but the fact that he avoided spraying the captain brought little comfort. He was still pathetically weak.

"Bless you," Kirk said, and clapped a friendly hand onto Spock's shoulder.

Spock nodded his thanks, unable to speak again before more sneezes were upon him. "Hh'kshhu! Isshhu! Huhh...h'ESHHuh!" Through a haze of moisture in his eyes, he could see Kirk rummaging in one pocket for something. "What are you doig, captain?" His voice was shamefully clogged, his consonants obscured with congestion.

"I'm getting you some tissues, Spock," Kirk answered, a note of amusement present in his voice. "Here." He held out a handful of thin white squares, the likes of which Spock didn't remember seeing. "Use these. I don't mind."

Spock took the tissues, but, confused as to their use, simply stared at them. "I am udcertaid as to the use of these objects." He wrinkled his nose, the loosened congestion having made a bid for freedom.

Kirk blinked a few times, his mouth slowly widening into an expression of amusement. "You mean you've never blown your nose before? Ever?"

"I do dot know to which actiod you refer." Blown his nose? He knew of blowing bubbles, and of blowing up balloons, as his mother had explained said concepts to him, but his nose? Spock had a sudden, illogical vision of his nose detaching itself from his face and sailing across the room.

"It's easy," Kirk said, taking the tissues back and detaching two of them from the clump. "You just close your mouth and blow out, forcefully, through your nose until you're all cleared out. I can't believe no one's ever explained that to you," he added. "Try it." He raised the tissues to Spock's nose and pinched the tip of it, holding them there. "C'mon, blow."

"Doig so would be highly udsaditary, captaid," Spock objected, his voice muffled behind the soft tissues. "I do dot wish to -"

"You're too stuffed up to argue, Spock," Kirk interrupted him, his eyes patiently encouraging. "Go ahead. I'll wash my hands afterwards."

Spock knew he had to obey. Taking in a deep breath, he breathed out through his nose, forcefully, as Kirk had instructed. "Good," the captain encouraged. "Do it again." Spock did so, closing his eyes this time; the action hurt his already heavy head. "Okay, good." Kirk removed the tissues and grinned at him. "Not so bad, huh?"

Spock breathed in through his nose and was surprised to find that he could now do so with ease. "Not at all, captain."

Kirk rolled his eyes and slapped Spock on the back (he found the human predilection towards physical violence perplexing). "Jim."

Spock acquiesced. "Very well, Jim."

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Squeee!

Melikes Spock. Especially clueless Spock.

... and Pike

Lovely update!

[ichixshiro14]

Awww yay! Spock+his first cold = hehe thanks for the update

[Masking]

Pavel Chekov was trying to concentrate. Really, he was. But it was difficult to concentrate on someone explaining the medicinal properties of Rigellian hyacinths - even when it was Hikaru Sulu, a man Chekov was trying to impress - when his nose tickled like hell.

"See, when you make a decoction of the petals, you can actually put that in a hypospray and use it to - Pavel, are you okay?" Sulu broke off from his animated description of the blue-petaled flower to glance concernedly at Chekov. "Something wrong?"

Chekov shook his head and tried, in vain, to keep his nose from twitching. "I am fine," he said.

"You sure? You're kind of making a face."

"I am fine." Usually, his allergies didn't act up like this, even during the springtime; they were mild, as allergies went. But here, in Sulu's botany lab, the combination of plants and flowers from all over the known universe was making him want to sneeze like he never had before. Especially the sweet-smelling thing on his left...the one that kept puffing out tiny clouds of pollen every ten seconds, and damn it, even thinking about it was making the tickle worse. Chekov sniffled and tried, as unobtrusively as possible, to wrinkle his nose.

"Um. Okay, then." Sulu didn't look entirely convinced, but he held up the hyacinth again and continued with his botany lecture. "Anyway, you can stick it in a hypospray and actually cure about a fifth of all known bacterial infections, which, considering that Rigellians don't even know about half of our infections, is really -"

Chekov didn't want to cut him off, truly he didn't. But his nose had other plans, and right in the middle of Sulu's sentence, it went off. "Hh'yschhuh!" He doubled over with a wet, irritated sneeze into his hands, lengthening curls falling into his eyes as he did. "Heh'ischh! Ah'ytshhu! H'kshh!" Oh, what was wrong with him? Normally, he didn't even sneeze once a week, but this was terrible. Even after sneezing four times, his nose still tickled. "Hikaru, I...I am sorry." His hands still covered his nose, which threatened to run onto his upper lip.

"Pavel?" Sulu hastily placed the hyacinth on a nearby table and went to Chekov's side. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Chekov shook his head. "No, I am a-allergic to...hhuh'hishheh!" Snuffling, he tried to continue through a voice clogged with irritation. "Allergic to sobe pladts. I did dot know vhat they vere, but..."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Pavel," Sulu interrupted, and placed a warm, comforting hand on Chekov's shoulder, brows furrowed in a way that made Chekov feel horribly guilty for worrying him. "You need some tissues?" He reached into his pants pocket and rummaged around for a second or two before coming up with a wad of crumpled tissues. "Here, they're clean." He gently pulled Chekov's hands away from his face and awkwardly wiped at his running nose, obviously unused to doing so.

"I can do zat." Feeling his cheeks burn, Chekov took the tissues and wiped his nose himself, unwilling to blow in front of Sulu; he knew his nose-blows were loud and rather embarrassing, and he was loath to make them when he was alone, let alone with someone else. "It is fine...you did not mean..."

"Seriously, I'm sorry." Sulu squeezed Chekov's shoulder again, this time with a sympathetic smile. "Come on, let's get you some fresh air, okay? We can talk outside of the botany lab."

"But you said you vanted to show me..."

"It's fine." Sulu ducked his head and pressed a sudden kiss to Chekov's cheek; Chekov felt heat flush his face pink. "I'll show you a holovid of Rigellian hyacinths instead, okay? You're not allergic to those."

"No. I am not." Chekov would've protested that Sulu was treating him like a child, but for the kiss. That wasn't childish, innocent as it was. "It is f-fine...eh'hschhu!"

"Bless you." Sulu grinned at him, with a glint of affection that Chekov hadn't noticed before in his eyes. "Now c'mon, let's get out of here."

[Masking]

More Sconesura, because I love it.

- - - - -

McCoy realized, as his eyes fluttered open, that he was comfortably warm; he liked it, which was a surprise, as he was a man who rarely professed to like anything. But this arrangement was...nice. Scotty was pleasantly warm and solid against his back, while Uhura was spooned in front of him, and all three of them were covered by all the blankets they could find in McCoy's quarters. He couldn't remember much from before he'd conked out, besides hearing two soothing voices beside him as his body warmed up, but he felt rested now.

"Mm...Leonard." Apparently, his stirring movements had awoken Scotty - he could feel the vibrations of the man's voice against his back and neck. McCoy didn't turn around to look at him, as he was too comfortable in the position to move, dammit. In reply, he shifted a little against Scotty. "Hello, then. Feel any better?" Scotty slipped an arm around his waist and squeezed lightly, a gesture that McCoy could already tell was intrinsic to the engineer's affectionate nature.

"A little," McCoy answered, and cleared his throat before speaking again; it was still sore, and his voice sounded unpleasantly raspy. "Think this'll get worse before it gets better." His nose was stuffed up, which was unpleasant, but he'd taken worse knocks. "Think it'll b-be...huhh'ashh'uh!" The sneeze scraped at his raw throat and made him wince, but thankfully he only had to sneeze once. He sniffled and shook his head, as the sneeze had fogged it somewhat.

"Bless you." Shit, he'd woken Uhura up. She turned around in front of him to look at him with already-alert dark eyes. "How're you feeling?"

McCoy shrugged and granted her a half-smile. "Been better, been worse. Just...hope y'all don't catch this." It was probably a lost cause, as they had both already been exposed, but he would still feel bad if they got sick. He'd care for them if it happened, but as his grandmother used to say, an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure. "Hhh...hh'ushhu! Ihh'ascheh! Hh....huhISCHuh!" Those hurt, and he couldn't hold back a shiver of pain - and another of disgust, when he saw where he'd sneezed. "Goddammit. Where'd I get you?"

"No, no, it's fine," Uhura said quickly, and sat up, disentangling herself from him. "You couldn't help it."

"Dammit, yes, I could." He apparently had the manners of a Gorn, cantankerous or not; you just didn't sneeze on someone else. "Sorry." He sniffled, unable either to control his nose's itching or to keep it from running. Damn cold.

"Here, hold on," Scotty said, and McCoy felt him sit up as well; he did the same, as it was just plain polite to get one's lazy ass off of the mattress when everyone else was sitting straight up. "These'll help." Something soft was placed into his hand, his fingers gently closed around it, and McCoy looked down to see that Scotty had given him more tissues.

"Thanks," he muttered, brought them to his nose, and closed his eyes before blowing - his sinuses were blocked, and it hurt to clear them. "Urghh," he groaned when he'd finished. "Hate this damn cold." Next time Kirk wanted to drag him on an away mission, he'd go over his own dead body. That didn't make any sense, even in his head, but he thought it nonetheless.

"Well, the good thing is tha' ya have us," Scotty said, and slung an arm around McCoy's shoulders (he wasn't sure why the man seemed to fixate on slinging his arms around things, but he didn't really mind).

"Shouldn't you two be on shift?" McCoy asked, and raised an eyebrow. "Don't want to get y'all in trouble with Starfleet."

Scotty flapped a dismissive hand. "Cleared it with the Cap'n already, we did," he replied. "He's sick, too, y'know."

"It's not as though that's surprising," Uhura cut in, with a roll of her eyes.

"Right. Jim's about the most irresponsible thing since - hhuh...huh'aeschhuh! Ha'eshhu!" Jesus Christ. McCoy buried his nose in the damp tissues for another blow, then blinked hard, a little dizzy. "I hate sneezin'."

"Dunnae worry, it'll be gone soon enough," Scotty reassured him. "D'ya want some tea, maybe?"

McCoy only hesitated a moment before nodding his assent. "That'd be good." Maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all, if Scotty and Uhura wanted to take care of him. He smirked to himself - Jim and the hobgoblin sittin' in a tree, S-N-E-E-Z-I-N-G...pretty picture.

[RSB]

I love Scotty's arm slinging here! It's so sweet and affectionate.

Also love how concerned Sulu is in the prior drabble!

[Masking]

It had been a pretty routine day, as days in Sickbay went, when Scotty stumbled in. "L-Leonard?" he panted, his eyes wide and scared. "I need help." One hand was shoved into the fabric of his shirt, which had darkened with what McCoy realized was blood. "The calibrator slipped, and..."

McCoy was across sickbay before Scotty could finish his sentence, helping the man down onto a biobed. "Lemme see," he said, and snapped on a pair of gloves (tests or not, blood-borne illnesses were no laughing matter) before gently easing the injured hand out of its covering. "Did a number on yourself, did you?" The blood seemed to come from a cut in Scotty's palm, which was still bleeding. "Dammit, Scotty. When'll you learn to take care of yourself?"

Scotty winced, and McCoy realized with a flash of guilt that he'd been squeezing the hand in his anger and concern. "Dunnae think there was any way I could've anticipated this," he said. "It just...happened. Honestly, I didnae mean to."

"I know. Hold on a minute." McCoy got up and went to the supply closet for a dermal regenerator and some good old-fashioned sterilization wipes - auto-sterilizers did all right, but you never knew what lurked inside cuts. "All right," he continued, sitting back down beside the engineer. "Give me your hand - I need to clean it out."

"A'right." Scotty stuck his hand out obligingly enough, but flinched in pain when the sterilization wipe touched it.

"Sorry," McCoy told him, and softly patted the injured hand. "I'll be done in a second." He set aside the wipe and reached for the dermal regenerator, turning it on and listening to its hum with satisfaction. "This'll take a minute to work. You feeling all right?"

"Aye," Scotty answered with a sigh. "Just been a long day, it has. I'm...h-hold on a mo'." His breath hitched, and he barely managed to get his free arm up to his face to catch the sneezes in his sleeve. "Huh'etschuh! H'ishhiu! Ishhu!" He sniffled, thickly, and looked up at McCoy, his eyes watery. "Sorry."

"Bless," McCoy said, and automatically leaned in to examine him. Scotty's round, good-natured face was flushed; that wasn't a surprise, but his red-rimmed eyes and nose were. Several conclusions could be drawn, but the most obvious one presented itself, making him groan. "Damn it. I gave you my cold?" He'd gotten better in the week since Uhura and Scotty had shown up at his door, but of course it had spread.

Scotty's normally joyful eyes were somber now - ashamed, it seemed. "I caught it, aye." Another sniffle; he brought his wrist up to his nose to wipe at it with his sleeve, which was clearly uncomfortable; he tensed, and his nose was redder when he pulled away. "Shite."

"Don't do that," McCoy told him sternly. "It's unsanitary. Here." He picked up the tissue box on the nearest bedside table and set it on Scotty's lap. "Use these if you need 'em."

"Thanks." Scotty pulled out two tissues and brought them, one-handed, to his nose, wiping and massaging it before he blew; obviously, it was sore as well as tickly. "Hh'ieshhuh! Unghh, god," he groaned, and coughed into his shoulder. "Hurts."

The dermal regenerator beeped, indicating that it had finished. McCoy turned it off and placed it at the end of the bed, then palmed Scotty's forehead. "You're not goin' back to Engineering," he said - not an order, just a statement. "You need rest."

It looked as if Scotty was about to protest, but then thought better of it. "I s'pose," he said, shoulders slumping. "Keenser'n Lieutenant Vanh can manage it wi'oot me for the next bit." He looked up at McCoy. "But..."

"But what?"

"Nyota's caught it, too."

"Goddammit." The thought of Uhura diligently working at her comm station, even as coughs, sneezes, and fever attacked her thin body, made McCoy want to storm up to the bridge and carry her down to sickbay himself. "You two shouldn't'a come seen me."

"No." The newly-healed hand closed around his, comforting despite its heat. "We wanted to, really. And Nyota'll come down later, I think." Scotty wrinkled his nose and swiped at it again with the tissues, sniffling. "Just w-when the shift's over...hh'ischh!"

"Bless." On an impulse - Chapel wasn't around to see it, after all - McCoy leaned forward again and kissed Scotty's hot forehead. "You want to come to my quarters?" The blankets in sickbay were shit, after all; his bed would undoubtedly be warmer.

Scotty looked at him and smiled, some of his usual laughter back in his eyes. "Aye, I do."

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Okay. In order of appearance:

Awwww, poor Chekov...

Jim and the hobgoblin sittin' in a tree, S-N-E-E-Z-I-N-G...

I totally cracked up at that line.

And awww, that's very cute. *hugs Scotty*

[Masking]

More Academy stuff.

- - - - -

"Hhuh...! H'ashhu!"

The powerful sneeze immediately caught Kirk's attention. Had he been a dog, he would've said his ears perked up; being a human, though, he could say that his fetish sense was tingling. "Bless you." Was McCoy going to sneeze again? He certainly hoped so.

"Nngh, thanks," McCoy muttered with a sniffle. "Don't you have exams or somethin' to study for? Can't hang around botherin' me."

"I'm gonna ace 'em, Bones, and you know it," Kirk said, and grinned at him. "You got allergies or something?"

"No. Think I maybe caught a damn cold. Just my luck." McCoy tapped something on his PADD and sighed. "Andorian Xenobio's probably gonna kick my ass, so if you need to stick around, don't bother me."

Oh, Kirk would bother him, all right. James Tiberius Kirk didn't believe in a no-win scenario, and McCoy's nose didn't stand a chance against his talented fingers.

Very slowly, so as not to make McCoy grumble at him or move away, Kirk crept up behind him and peered around the side. From this vantage point, he could see the slight pinkening to the doctor's rounded nostrils, which was totally hot. McCoy's head was bent; as usual when he was studying, he was completely oblivious to the world around him. All the better for his friend, who extended a finger and flicked gently at the tip of the upturned nose.

Success. The nose in question immediately twitched, but unfortunately, it also aroused the famous Bonesly Wrath. "Jim, what the hell're you doin'? Get outta here." McCoy knuckled roughly at his nose before pushing Kirk away with both hands. "Behave, dammit."

Kirk snickered. "But I'm bored, Bones." He flicked at McCoy's nose again, before he could have time to object or unleash one of his famous profanity-filled rants.

This time, it worked. McCoy's breath hitched, and he barely had time to bring his hands up to his nose before the sneezes came out. "Hhuh...h'ushhu! Aschhuh! Eh-hehh...hhuh'eschhiu! ESHHuu!" He kept his hands clapped over his nose, sniffling. "Goddabbit, Jib, what was that for?"

"'Cause it was hot." Kirk would've cursed his man-giggles, but instead just let one out and then ran back to his bed, giddy. Shit, he'd actually managed to do it. And Bones's sneezes were hot. Really hot. "Bless you," he called over. "Just for the record."

He thought he heard McCoy mutter something along the lines of 'fuck records', but he couldn't be sure.