A Star Trek Reboot Story (Kirk/Spock, Spock)

October 28, 2016

Hello! So, this is only my second fanfic ever (first one was a Gundam Wing one on here years and years ago) and my first ever Star Trek fic! I had an idea for a scene creep into my head and it ran away with me for literally 50 pages worth of craziness! I hope you enjoy and I hope I do these awesome characters at least a little bit of justice!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Star Trek, but am super grateful to get to mess around with it like I do. (Muahaha!)

Personal Disclaimer: I love the Star Trek Movies, but prior to their release I was not a Trekkie. Therefore, a LOT of the technical stuff in here, and likely some of the mundane things as well, are going to just be straight up incorrect. I'm super sorry about this for any die hard fans, but as my interest in Star Trek lies more in the characters than the sci-fi technicalities, I kinda failed on the research front. (No beta reader either so all mistakes are my own - Gah! So nervous!!)

Setting: Takes place some time after the first movie.

Part 1

Spock treasured almost every gift he was ever given by his mother. For example, he’d been told he has her eyes, and never before has he been so grateful to feel he still has some connection with her. However, he must acknowledge, particularly at present, that although 99.25% of him cherishes the humanity he has inherited in honor of her, he .75% loathes the vulnerability that it entails. Predominantly with regards to the immune system.

Spock spared a moment for self-loathing as he buried his mouth into the crook of his arm and allowed himself to give in to relieving the intolerable itch in his throat while in the privacy of his own quarters. This was unacceptable. Spock had been ill a total of 2 times in his life prior to this and the most recent time was far from recent at all. He had been 7. This was the 3^rd day of these ridiculous disturbances and they appeared to be picking up intensity, which was unfortunate as he was more than ready to return to normal function.

The tickle in his throat eased for the moment, he allowed himself the indulgence of a sigh as he checked the chrono and found that he had 1.33 minutes before he would need to leave for Alpha shift. He found himself illogically whishing that a more pressing circumstance would arise in the labs over the next .45 seconds that would mandate his presence and remove him from his approaching obligation. He was not concerned about his ability to adequately perform his duties; on the contrary that was his only comfort in the situation, the possibility of losing awareness of the physical discomfort through the focused task of data analysis. No, his concerns primarily centered around the increasingly obvious nature of his symptoms and his newly evolving relationship with one particularly observant Captain.

Spock glanced at the chrono again and barely resisted the urge to sigh a second time as his last few moments of comfortable solitude ticked away. He reluctantly stepped out into the corridor, only to immediately retreat back into the privacy of his quarters as the bright lights of the hallway triggered a horrible sensation in his nose and his traitorous breath began to hitch.

“heh-HEH! Heh-” Panic flooded Spock as blood rushed in his ears and his heart doubled its rate. Nonnono, not again! He reached up in desperation with an instinct born of extreme terror and deeply embedded shame from his childhood. Flinging up a wild prayer that his body remembered and had the same response as it had so many years ago, he tightly pinched his nose and attempted to sniff as hard as he could just as the sensation reached its apex and bordered on the point of no return. His chest ached with the action, but the terrifying sensation quickly abated. Spock closed his eyes in a brief, illogically emotional display of gratitude to whatever deity had responded to his prayer. He sniffed gingerly and noted with dismay that his nose had started to run. He quickly dabbed at it with a tissue and was pleased to find that the nosebleeds he’d been having over the past 72 hours appeared to have ceased. He was now just dealing with straightforward rhinorrhea, much more manageable and significantly less noticeable. Spock blew his nose carefully, not willing to provoke any further irritating sensations or inadvertent epistaxis, and berated himself for the loss of precious time. He quickly strode into the bathroom and efficiently, if begrudgingly, pocketed several more tissues before endeavoring to progress once more beyond that safety of his quarters. He squinted as he entered the corridor to allow a moment for his eyes to adjust. When several seconds had passed without any further episodes he took a moment to compose himself, feeling an inexplicable swell of positivity, and continued on his way to the bridge. Today would go without incident. He was certain of it.

October 28, 2016

(Ack! Sorry for the double post! Trying to fix it. This is the thread I'm going to update on though. Apologies!!)

October 28, 2016

A/N: Editing these suckers as I go - this next bit is short so figured I might as well go ahead and throw it up here.

Part 2

He stepped onto the bridge 48.76 seconds late and somewhat disconcertingly out of breath. Unacceptable. He could not, would not allow this—temporary discomfort to decrease his efficiency in any other fashion. He surveyed the room and noticed that only Ensign Chekov and Nyota have been privy to his lapse. He did not believe that they were individuals that would notice such a slight deviance, so he spares .25 seconds to be pleased that his record remains largely intact.

He greeted the bridge’s other occupants as per his routine and settled in at his console just as the turbolift doors hissed and Chekov called out, “Keptin on ze bridge!”.

Spock felt his heart rate accelerating once more, but this time instead of illogical, blind panic he felt an even more illogical lightness in his stomach and a somewhat obnoxious dilating of the capillaries in his cheeks. It was not altogether unpleasant.

“Good Morning, Everyone! Mr. Spock.”

Spock swiveled his chair to give his Captain an obliging nod, “Captain”. He tried to briefly meet Jim’s eyes, wary of lingering long enough in his Captain's gaze to incur further scrutiny, but was unexpectedly (or perhaps very expectedly) waylaid by the sheer brightness of Jim’s brilliant, blue eyes and genuine smile. Largely, he reconciled, due to the fact that it was directed at him. As if Spock were an unanticipated gift that just happened to be presented in exactly the same manner every day for the past 2 ½ years and somehow had never lost its charm. Spock felt as if his internal organs were engaged in light calisthenics and was contemplating distracting himself from the unusual sensation with a comment on the illogic of Jim’s persisting and undiminished joy in the absence of novel stimuli, when he felt a sharp, stinging sensation far up into his nasal passages. A bolt of terror shot through him so intense he nearly froze. Instead he schooled his features as best as he could and hurriedly turned back to his console, clenching his eyes shut and not daring another inhalation. He could feel his Captain’s confusion at his abrupt disengagement, but was powerless to do anything other than will the unsolicited sensation away.

“Morning Captain, sorry I’m late.” Saved by the distraction of Lt. Sulu's tardiness, Spock risked letting out his breath slowly and felt a surge of fear when the sensation did not immediately dissipate.

“You know you’re not actually late yet, Sulu. Slightly less early than really early is not late…”

Spock tuned out the discussion when the need to give into the biological imperative to oxygenate his system became too great to ignore. He inhaled as slowly and evenly as possible, but his treacherous body remained stubbornly contrary and all at once he was overwhelmed.

He ducked his head toward his viewing instruments with the intention of obstructing as much of the rest of the crew’s view of him as possible. Then at the very last possible second he clamped his fingers tightly to his nose and inhaled as powerfully as possible, overtaking the hateful burning sensation before it could force a despicable reaction from his body that he did not now, and would never again, allow. He felt the urge finally pass him by and a wave of immense relief washed over him. He released his nose, suppressing a sniffle and shiver, and snuck a surreptitious look at the rest of the bridge. He could detect no change in the overall behavior of the crew and a more thorough glance at the Captain revealed him to be engaged in conversation with Chekov and Sulu, his attention fully directed elsewhere.

Spock spared a moment to close his eyes and attempt to control the throbbing discomfort that had arisen in his chest following the thwarting of his last ‘near-miss’. He hoped against hope that the worst of his symptoms had now passed and that he would finally be able to resume his normal routine and fully attend to his duties as he wished.

His wishes, unfortunately, appeared to have been in vain.

October 28, 2016

There is NEVER enough sick Spock fics. Never. Thank you!!!

9 hours ago, LostGirl2.0 said:

However, he must acknowledge, particularly at present, that although 99.25% of him cherishes the humanity he has inherited in honor of her, he .75% loathes the vulnerability that it entails. Predominantly with regards to the immune system.

I especially liked it...

October 29, 2016

This is great!

On 10/27/2016 at 9:34 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

He stepped onto the bridge 48.76 seconds late and somewhat disconcertingly out of breath. Unacceptable. He could not, would not allow this—temporary discomfort to decrease his efficiency in any other fashion. He surveyed the room and noticed that only Ensign Chekov and Nyota have been privy to his lapse. He did not believe that they were individuals that would notice such a slight deviance, so he spares .25 seconds to be pleased that his record remains largely intact.

This is very Spock.

On 10/27/2016 at 9:34 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

As if Spock were an unanticipated gift that just happened to be presented in exactly the same manner every day for the past 2 ½ years and somehow had never lost its charm.

Awwwww!!!!

On 10/27/2016 at 9:34 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

“You know you’re not actually late yet, Sulu. Slightly less early than really early is not late…”

This is funny!

I'm excited to see where this goes!

October 29, 2016

I love it! I love how desperately he's trying to hide it. You do a great job explaining what he's thinking. I can't wait to see if he can hide it much longer.

October 29, 2016

A/N: Thank you so, so much for the feedback!! I'm really glad you're enjoying it! (Bigger part ready for today - hope you like!)

Part 3

Spock suppressed another shiver and tried to ignore the uncomfortable heat creeping up his neck that regrettably appeared completely disassociated from Jim’s fond attention. He cleared his throat softly in response to the persistent tickle in his throat and somehow wasn’t surprised when it wasn’t relieved in the slightest.

“----Mr. Spock?”

Spock started internally, but was fairly certain he remained perfectly composed physically. He berated himself for the lapse in his attention. Unforgivable. “I’m sorry Captain, would you please repeat the question?”

“…uh, sure, Spock. Would you run another scan of section 14 in quadrant Delta-V”

Spock detected confusion wrapped around an undercurrent of concern, indicating that he was not adequately compensating for the negative systemic deviations he is experiencing. He angrily turned back to his console and promptly complied with the request, swiftly and somewhat curtly relaying the results. He struggled to suppress his frustration with his failure and to re-engage his focus more fully with a deep, centering breath when it suddenly hitched on him without warning, “huh-hhhhih!”

Idiot! He should have known better than to risk a deep breath. Without a thought to possible observers he jerked his fist up to his face and inhaled hard, then harder, until the sensation finally fled. He exhaled carefully, releasing his grip on the offending organ slowly when he was once again assailed by the irrepressible urge. Except that he did repress it. He leaned heavily on his console to brace himself and, with his heart racing in irrational terror, inhaled once again pulling with all his strength in opposition to the contemptible force trying to rip itself from him in front of his colleagues, peers – in front of Jim.

He struggled for what seemed like an interminable amount of time, fighting this vulgar, human impulse with everything he had and after what felt like minutes but was sure to be only seconds, he knew he had won the battle. This time. He took a moment to consider the logic of the situation and was forced to admit defeat. He couldn’t do this. There were 45 minutes left on Alpha shift and he could already feel the pressure building in his sinuses once again. He quickly sent off a message on his PADD to an ensign he knew to be running behind on a particularly time-sensitive project. Upon receiving a reply in the affirmative moments later, to his offer for assistance, he immediately requested his leave from the bridge.

“Pardon me, Captian, -cough- “, he quickly cleared his throat hoping to disguise the truth of the sound, “if you have no objections I have just been alerted via PADD of a time-sensitive experiment that is expiring and the staff have requested assistance to complete the project before the results become obsolete. Permission to grant their request for aid?”

Jim frowned slightly as he looked at the chronometer and then back at his First Officer. His eyes narrowed, his somewhat paler than normal First Officer who just coughed and tried to hide it. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern as he realized that he’d never even had the thought before that Spock might be under the weather. That he even could be under the weather. But looking closely at him now Jim would bet his right arm something was off. This, along with his request to leave the bridge early so close to the end of his shift, struck him as decidedly suspicious. Despite all that though, Spock was proud and delivered his request with his usual amount of straight-backed decorum, although he did appear to be looking anywhere but at Jim while awaiting his response. Jim squinted his eyes at Spock as if doing so would allow him to see the truth buried beneath the request. He would actually be pleased if Spock was lying to him and planned to retire to his quarters, as he looked as if he could use it. But had to admit he has more of a feeling that he had somehow finagled himself a legitimate excuse and would truly be heading to the science labs. Spock tends to take great pleasure in frequently reminding Jim that “Vulcans do not lie”.

Jim pushed down his concern in deference to Spock’s continued dignity despite clearly not being at his best, and granted Spock’s request. With the addendum than he not work through dinner despite the urgency of the experiment. Come to think of it…

Jim stood quickly and managed to catch up with Spock at the turbolift. “Hey,” he placed a hand on Spock's shoulder and was not surprised when the Vulcan simply stiffened in response and did not turn to face him. Can’t risk me seeing that fever flush on your face can you… Jesus! He’s a lot warmer than normal, even through his shirts. Oh, Spock… He removed his hand knowing that despite the recent evolution of their relationship, Spock still disliked casual contact, particularly in public settings. “Don’t forget about chess tonight at 2000, ok? I meant it when I said for you to not let this project eat you alive.” Wait for it…

“That is illogical, Captain. The only carnivorous flora are located in the botany lab on deck 3 and far from dangerous to any humanoid species. I will be perfectly suh-safe. “

Jim smiled at Spock’s back as he replied in his usual dry, literal fashion and was about to turn away when he heard the slight, uncharacteristic stutter in Spock’s words. Spock spun quickly towards Jim out of necessity and hit the button for the floor of the science labs while simultaneously bringing his hand quickly toward his face. Jim caught a glimpse of his expression and was startled by what he saw. His eyes were wide with—was that fear?—for the briefest second, before they squinted nearly closed, and his lips parted in a desperate gasp. Looking for all the world, Jim thought, like someone who was about to sneeze and was scared shitless about it.

“hiiihhh!” Spock was mortified. Panic once more surged through him, but he kept his head ducked, pinched his nose so severely he was certain the offending organ will bruise, and inhaled with everything he had. The lift doors could not close fast enough. The sensation rapidly passed unfulfilled, and he released his nose and lifted his head just in time to catch Jim’s worried gaze and hear his voice disappearing behind the closing turbolift doors.

“Hey, Spock, are you sure you’re---“

The turbodoors wooshed shut and Jim was left blinking at the seal. Okay, then. Stubborn, clearly sick Vulcan 1, Jim 0. He may not have control over his schedule now, as he’d just given his approval of Spock’s request in front of the crew, but he better believe come 8 o’clock his Vulcan ass would be in bed, resting, under the covers – chess match postponed until further notice.

Jim returned to the Captain’s chair to see out the rest of his shift, pondering what had just occurred. He’d never known a Vulcan to display cold-like symptoms before— in fact, he’d have to ask Bones, but he was pretty sure they couldn’t, they just weren’t wired that way. He knew he’d never seen one sneeze before. Clearly Spock’s human half made him a little more vulnerable than he liked for people to recognize.

=================================

Spock entered his quarters at 1945 feeling decidedly worse than he could recall in recent history. The normal pleasant rush of warm air he typically encountered upon entrance to his room felt like a cool breeze and he shivered all the harder for it.

“Com –cough—computer, raise ambient temperature by 10 degrees.”

His head was spinning and he felt such an intense pressure in his sinuses that even his teeth were emitting a dull, deep ache. He stumbled to his bed and sat gracelessly on the edge, letting his hot head fall heavily into his marginally cooler hands. He had chess with Jim in 13.67 minutes, but his energy reserves were nearly depleted after struggling to suppress his symptoms for the past three hours in the lab. While he had been pleased to be out from under Jim’s watchful eye, he had remained subject to the crew’s inspection and as such had been forced to maintain some semblance of normalcy. He crossed his arms on his knees and laid his forehead down, feeling the pressure in his head swell and throb, the congestion in his nose becoming so full that air was no longer able to pass through. He closed his burning eyes for a second…

Kirk strode with purpose through the corridor, noting that at his present pace he’d arrive roughly 7 minutes prior to their agreed rendezvous time. That would without a doubt annoy the Vulcan to no end, but Kirk found that at present he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d waited long enough; trying to distract himself by dinner with Bones and a heavy workout after, but he couldn’t get the picture of Spock’s desperation and misery in the turbolift out of his head. For someone who was consistently so calm and collected, he must be going out of his mind dealing with a body so far beyond his capability to control. Jim shook his head ruefully as he quickly passed his own quarters and drew up at Spock's adjacent room. He considered briefly whether or not he should give Spock the remaining 5 minutes before announcing his presence, but then subsequently dismissed it, his impatience and concern taking precedence over his manners.

He buzzed to announce his presence and then proceeded to use his Captain’s override. Hoping that Spock might be resting and this way he wouldn’t have to get up to answer the door. He stepped inside and immediately rolled up his sleeves, he never failed to underestimate how warm hi s desert-bred Commander liked to keep his quarters. He blinked through the fry heat and dim lighting and tried to make out if Spock had perhaps not yet returned from the lab.

“Spock?”

He saw a particularly large blob of darkness by the bed expand an instant before a heartbreakingly hoarse voice commanded,

“Computer, lights to 40%.”

As the lights raised Jim watched Spock quickly rise to his feet from his position at the edge of the bed and was struck by two very out of place things. 1) Spock had the most adorable case of bedhead which he clearly was unaware of, and 2) he looked decidedly unsteady on his feet. Jim spared half a second to enjoy the first while his feet carried him forward in a rush to steady his dubiously vertical First Officer.

“Whoa! Spock, sit back down. It’s just me.” He said, grabbing Spock’s upper arm in order to make sure he didn’t have an impromptu date with the floor.

He spared a moment to give Spock a once over now that he was up close and was simultaneously heartbroken and stunned. Spock looked horrible. Dark greenish circles under his eyes, a light sheen of sweat over his skin, glassy fever bright eyes, and light green flush to ghostly white cheeks with a bruised discoloration to his nose.

“Jesus, Spock! You look like shit! Get back in bed now. I knew I shouldn’t have approved your request to go to the labs. I should have sent you straight to Bones as soon as I saw you trying not to sneeze on the turbolift!”

Spock blinked dizzily at Jim for a few seconds, but then seemed to regain some semblance of his pride if the set of his shoulders was anything to go by, and croaked, “You statement is inaccurate on multiple accounts, Captain. Firstly, I can hardly get in bed again when I haven’t been in it to begin with. And Vulcan’s do not sneeze. It is a biological impossibility.”

Jim rolled his eyes mildly at the somewhat absurd and pedantic denial before gently urging Spock back down onto the bed he hadn’t been in. He then made his was over to the replicator. He’d asked Scotty to work on something for him after Spock left the bridge and he was excited to see the turnout. He was trying not to bounce on his heels as he keyed in his request when he was distracted by a soft intake of breath from the room’s other occupant. He turned slightly at the noise and watched as Spock engaged in a battle of willpower so rapidly that Jim doesn’t even have time to dissuade it.

“HEH! Hihhhhh-HIH!” Spock had been blind-sided by the sensation, why hadn’t this abhorrent impulse ceased by now?! And Jim was looking right at him... He wrenched his hand up once again in an instinctive gesture born of self-preservation and pinched his nose hard, sucking in forcefully against the urge. He felt the sensation sweep past him in a wave of discomfort and quickly resumed a neutral position attempting to erase all evidence of the episode.

Jim, though thoroughly confused by what he’d just witnessed, was also rather concerned as he observed the poorly concealed wince from Spock when he released his nose and tried to catch his breath. Jim quickly grabbed the steaming bowl of Plomeek soup he’d generated and made his way back to Spock’s side.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He said, setting the soup on the bedside table to Spock’s right and sits down on his left. “I can tell that hurt and it’s really not good for you either. I’m not going to judge you for sneezing or anything. Hell, you know about all of my allergies, I’d be the last person to be bothered by something like that.”

Spock, humiliated, refused to meet Jim’s glance and was instead opening his mouth with a staunch denial on the tip of his tongue when a waft of the of the sharp smelling soup hit his nose with Jim only inches away. The panic surged so strong he felt as if his heart would explode. He could not allow this to happen. Not in front of Jim. Not now! He could not slip in his control.

October 29, 2016

Oh, the poor thing! This is a great story--wonderful tension and denial.

October 29, 2016

Oh I LOVE it!!! Of course Spock would never admit he is unwell in front of others, less alone in front of Jim... This is really great, thank you!

October 29, 2016

A/N: Thanks, guys!! Little bit of a language warning for this one. Finally approaching the scene that got me writing this story.

Part 5

Jim watched as Spock geared up to tell him something like ‘his logic is too flawed to merit further comment’ and saw the exact moment that it happened. He saw Spock turning away and grabbed for his hand to stop it before it even got halfway. And suddenly he was drowning in a wave of pure terror and shame so intense he couldn't breathe. He was not certain that he would ever breathe again. He was suddenly staring up at his father—no wait, Spock's father, Sarek--feeling weak and hurting, but more so feeling devastated by his father’s obvious disappointment and...revulsion. He hadn’t known it was going to happen. He’d never felt the sensation before. How could be so uncontrolled, so human? He was a Vulcan. He was a Vulcan, it shouldn’t even be a possibility. He was an abomination. He struggled to refrain from allowing the hot tears that stung his eyes to roll down his cheeks. He would not shame his father again—

Then Spock’s hand was no longer in Jim’s and it was over. Jim came back to himself greedily sucking in air like a dying man and trying not to vomit from the adrenaline dump. Holy shit. Holy shit! Was that what Spock felt every time he was about to sneeze?! He had honestly thought his heart was going to explode! How young had Spock been in that memory? He felt an undeniable wave of rage come over him. How could Spock’s father make him feel that way? To make an ill child feel so ashamed that he was nearly paralyzed by the potential occurrence of a perfectly innocent bodily function—

A soft, muffled cough brought him back to the present and Jim’s rage evaporated in favor of his own feeling of shame. He had just thoroughly and thoughtlessly invaded the coveted privacy of the person whose opinion meant the most to him. Spock’s back was to him and he was hunched over, just about as far away from Jim physically as he could get without actually moving.

“Spock,” he was only slightly surprised that his voice cracked, “I swear I didn’t—“

Spock coughed again into the crook of his elbow, closed his eyes, and took a slow breath before relaxing his defensive posture and forcing himself to turn, albeit rather stiffly, towards Jim. It had not been Jim’s fault. Spock had not been guarding himself properly. He had projected everything he felt in that instant straight into Jim’s mind. Though his body was turned was angled that way, he found it just beyond the realm of possible at the moment to meet his Captain's, his friend’s eyes.

“It was not your fault, Jim. My present state appears to have had a negative effect on my ability to shield my thoughts and emotions. I apologize for what you experienced.”

“No, Spock, shit… You don’t need to apologize. I touched you! But—“ Jim hesitated before plowing boldly ahead, “although I am sorry for the invasion I can’t regret the knowledge. Is that what you’re feeling right now, Spock? You’re sick as a dog and you’re practically having panic attacks every time you have to sneeze?”

“Vulcan’s do not—“

“Vulcan’s don’t sneeze, I know, but this one does and you can’t go through life like this.”

“I promise you Captain it will not affect my efficiency—“

“Jim, Spock. And screw your efficiency, you’re—“

“I fail to see what bearing a metal pin with a helical thread—“

“Stop trying to distract me, I know you know what I mean. “

Uncharacteristically, Spock fell silent. Jim’s concern went up a notch.

“Spock”, he gently laid his hand on his First Officer’s cloth covered forearm, “you shouldn’t have to go through this all the time. This is such a normal experience! A normal human experience and,” he speeds up, “I know you don’t want to hear that, but I’d like to think that your estimation of humanity has come up a few notches since being a part of this crew.

“You’re sick and exhausted and there’s no way this isn’t making you feel worse. I just wish there was a way to undo this for you… How—How old were you in that memory?”

Spock cleared his throat gently, “I believe I was just beyond the age of 7.”

“Has it been like this every time you've gotten sick since?”

“I…have not been sick since. Not in this way.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t sneezed in over 20 years!?”

“…That is…correct.”

“Wow… I mean. After all that time….do you even remember what it feels like now?”

“I find I can only recall the emotional upheaval that followed the first demonstration of such a gross lack of control, and the subsequent determination that the experience was never to be repeated.”

“Lack of control—it’s a sneeze, Spock! It’s completely involuntary! You can’t control it. Like—coughing when you drink water too fast. It’s not meant to be controlled if it’s to serve its biological imperative. And how is impeding a biological process in any way logical? Especially when impeding it only serves to further degrade your overall health?” Jim folded his arms across his chest and dared Spock to counter him, knowing he could not.

Spock finally met Jim’s eyes, holding them briefly. Then he seemed to wilt just a little as he softly said, “I fear that logic may have 'left the equation', as you would say, some time ago. As such…I am somewhat at a loss as to how to proceed. Meditation does not appear to have any effect on the situation and I cannot endorse that I am at all enjoying this repeated experience.”

Jim ached inside at his friend’s sudden vulnerability and once again became incensed on his behalf. “There’s got to be something—some way… It’s such a trivial, normal occurrence, nothing at all to merit—but of course I can understand why you react the way you do—it’s just that I wish I could show you how little there is to actually fear now that you’re in a different context.” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, staring at the wall above Spock’s head, searching for a solution.

“I mean, you know I do it a ton with all of my allergies and apart from worrying it annoys people because I’m—uh...kinda loud sometimes, I don’t recall ever giving it a second thought. If you could just feel it for what it is without all that—“ He cut himself off as his eyes grew wide with an electric jolt of inspiration. He looked straight at Spock.

“Wait, could you? I mean, could I show you what it feels like? If you did a mind meld with me, would you feel it through me? You wouldn’t have to actually go through anything that way, but you could learn what it’s like – what it’s supposed to be like, that is”

“In…principle I should be able to feel the sensations of your body if I am not shielding against them, although I cannot claim to have ever tested the theory.”

“Let’s test it now. Another moment you carry on like this is another moment too long. It’s too small of a thing to have the power to make you feel that shitty.” Jim slid off the bed and headed into their adjoined bathroom, emerging a second later with several tissues balled in his fist.

“Ok, I’ve got an idea as to how we can do this. Old trick for helping out a stuck sneeze,” he said as he twisted the corner of one of the tissues into a point.

He seated himself once again on the bed, one leg folded on the mattress and the other on the ground, allowing him to angle himself more fully towards Spock. He looked intensely into his First Officers eyes and then allowed a grin to break through. “This’ll work, Spock. I know it will. And you’ll find it’s so harmless it’ll make your head spin!”

Spock hesitated, but Jim was clearly determined, and he supposed he could always disengage the meld if he found the experience unfavorable. Perhaps an empirical analysis of the phenomena would not go amiss…

As if sensing Spock’s resistance waning he plowed forward. “Ok, let’s do this.” Jim watched as Spock lifted his hand, retracted it briefly, and then met his eyes with trust and not a little stubborn determination. That’s my Vulcan. Jim’s smile widened further as Spock’s cool fingers brushed gently, almost tenderly against his psi-points.

He watched as Spock closed his eyes and said in a slightly congested voice, “My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts”

October 30, 2016

Part 6

Jim felt his awareness of his body slip away as a feeling like that of a lukewarm tide washed over him. He felt Spock’s consciousness flow seamlessly into his, twining gently together in some places like strands of the same fiber and flaring delicately distinct in others. He felt a thrill of energy and heat flowing through him, astounded at how comfortable he felt wrapped in Spock’s thoughts. Almost like he was coming home. He briefly thought that his meld with the elder Spock on Delta Vega had felt like some semblance of this, but brittle and thin comparatively. He felt a flash of nervous exhilaration at the thought that he found the sensation…rather addicting.

He suddenly felt Spock’s presence solidify and some awareness of their bodies on the bed in Spock’s room hazily returned.

Jim.

If Jim’s soul could shiver, it did at the pure tenderness in Spock’s recitation of his name.

He gave himself a small mental shake to focus on the task at hand. He felt slightly detached from his body at first, but the more he focused on his actions the more he found himself able to exist with his consciousness in two places at one time. He always was good at multitasking.

He directed his thoughts more specifically at Spock. Are you ready?

He is not sure how, but instead of hearing his thoughts he feels Spock’s positive response radiate through him like a warm blanket of approval wrapped around a tight, cold coil of trepidation. He tried to send back a wave of reassurance and was somewhat gratified when he felt that coil loosen ever so slightly. He hesitated only for a second before deciding that he was honored by the trust and that it wouldn’t be fair push Spock to be any more accepting of this experience just to ease his conscience. He knew it was the experience and not himself that Spock was reluctant toward. He felt the coil of hesitation unwind even further at that, as if Spock had sensed his doubt and wished to reassure him that he was on board as fully as he could allow himself to be at present.

Jim smiled, then feeling an almost shy internal urging from Spock, he took a deep breath and brought the twisted bit of tissue up to a nostril. He started to gently probe and twirl it around, taking a second to find a trigger point. He felt his heart thrumming heavily in his side—and then realized how wrong that was. It must be Spock’s heartbeat that he was feeling. If Jim hadn’t been sitting he would have gone weak in the knees. How freaking cool.

Focus Kirk, focus. He suddenly hit a spot and felt his breath hitch. The heartbeat instantly skyrocketed to such a degree that Jim began to feel an uncomfortable pressure in his chest. To the point that he began to find it difficult to breathe. Jim scrambled to send more comfort and reassurance Spock’s way, but found that a split second later the heartbeat was back to normal and his distress had eased. However, he was now aware of the tremendous amount of control Spock was exerting to keep it so. If this draws out too long he’s going to be wrecked, he thinks. He sent another tendril of reassurance as well as a burst of admiration towards Spock before he focused as fully as he could on the task at hand.

“HIH! Hhhhuh-huh…”

Spock felt rather like he was drowning, his control barely in tact. He clung to the thread of reassurance emanating from Jim and used it as an anchor. He had to relax. Had to trust. He grasped at it more tightly and finally began to center himself. As he did the sensations from Jim’s body flooded through him. He felt the involuntary gasps of air, the tingle through his sinuses from the repeated stimulation and—Spock hesitated momentarily to verify what he could not believe—desire? Excitement? It felt as if Jim was chasing after the sensation. Urging it on. Almost as if he was eager to trigger the reflex. Spock’s astonished musings were interrupted when a surge of fear rushed at him through their connection.

Shit! Spock . Too close. I’m too close to you. But—hih-HIH!!— if I turn away when it happens I might break the meld—

Spock reached back along the thread and quickly assured Jim that it was of no consequence. He then felt a surge of affection and appreciation for what Jim was doing flood out along the line before he even had a chance to direct it. He received renewed determination from Jim in response, like a firm hand clasp. Spock had not felt so grounded since before his mother was lost. He swallowed past a lump in his throat and directed his full attention towards Jim, opening himself completely.

Jim suddenly felt the coil of tension inside his head disappear completely along with any and all of his unfounded anxiety. Suddenly the whole thing become unbelievably easy.

He hit the spot dead on and knew he had it. He whipped his hands up as quickly as possible to cover his mouth and nose, tissues wadded in his palms, and braced himself to be as still as possible.

“Huhhhh...HUH-HUH! H’URRASSSSHH! His body jerked forward, but not enough to dislodge the meld. He quickly sniffed hard and opened his eyes, nerves once again returning as he met Spock’s gaze.

Spock dropped his hand slowly and opened his eyes. The meld was no longer active but Jim swore he could feel Spock’s gratitude warring with long standing discomfort and shame through the intensity of Spock’s stare alone. Jim forced himself to relax, abruptly shoving away his own insecurity in favor of making certain that the experience had the desired effect on Spock . Or at least that he hadn’t made anything worse. He grabbed another tissue and dried his hands. Sniff! “You ok, Spock?” He wanted to reach out and touch Spock again, but as that was hardly sanitary. He should have thought that ‘not-sneezing-directly-into-your-first-officer’s-face thing’ out a little more thoroughly beforehand. Too late for it now though, he’ll wash his hands in a sec.

Spock dropped his eyes and seemed to focus on some point on the bed or possibly Jim’s knee. “Indeed, I am well, Jim. It—“ he seemed to stutter to a halt, about to say more but uncharacteristically uncertain of how to continue. Jim threw him a bone.

“Well, did it feel like how you remembered? Or how you expected it to?”

“It did not.” He hesitated once more, “It—it very much seemed to me at a point that you were seeking the experience. And once it had triggered that you felt a kind of…pleasure at the release.”

Jim thought it must be the fever flush otherwise he would have sworn that Spock was blushing. Huh… He’d never really focused on it before, but yeah, he guessed he did kind of enjoy it. Well, in certain circumstances that is. When his allergies were flared up that was hardly any fun…

“Yeah, you know I’ve never really thought about it like that before, but I guess I do.” Boy that sounded odd to say out loud. Jim felt the room get slightly warmer and wasn’t so certain he wasn’t blushing himself. “It’s, just… it’s just the build to it and—you know,” Jim’s eyes gleamed mischievously as he sat back a little, folding his arms confidently across his chest, “they actually say that sneezing is like a mini orgasm.” He smirked to himself. Let’s see what Spock does with that one.

Spock raised a skeptical eyebrow, “I have heard this but always assumed it to be folklore or a demonstration of the Terran love of satire.” He sniffed instinctively before noting that over the course of the exchange his nose had once again started to run. He brought a delicately curled finger up to his nose and suddenly found a box of tissues in his lap. Jim was clearly paying him a considerable amount of attention to have so quickly ascertained his needs. He simultaneously tried not to squirm from embarrassment at the scrutiny and flush darker from the pleasure he felt at Jim’s concern for his comfort.

“Thank you” he said, letting his gratitude outshine his embarrassment for the moment. He turned from Jim and did his very best to gently and discretely blow his nose.

“So,” Jim plowed onward, talking over him so as to give Spock some privacy, and brought them back to the subject at hand. “Knowing that I, uh, kinda actually enjoy it and that it can even feel pleasurable, are you going to stop with the nonsense of pinching your nose so hard you’re bruising the cartilage?” He pointed at the abused organ and then cocked a wry grin, “Which is impressive in a horrible way because I’m not even sure that’s supposed to be possible.”

Spock tossed the tissue into the nearby bin and appeared to genuinely evaluate his response. Then his brow furrowed slightly and he looked to Jim once more.

“There is as issue we haven’t considered. We have differing physiologies, you cannot be certain that your experience would precisely mirror—“

“Spock,” Jim cut him off abruptly, “Vulcans can’t sneeze. You can. To me that means it has to be the doing of your human DNA and therefore an entirely human reaction.”

Spock knew the actual statistics of the plausibility of that assertion, but didn’t say so in the face of Jim’s impassioned resolve.

Before Spock could come up with an alternative flaw in Jim’s reasoning, he heard the quick intake of air that often accompanied Jim’s ‘eureka’ moments, as he liked to term them, and gave pause. But when it was not immediately followed by the verbalization of said thought, he suddenly knew without a doubt that he was not going to feel favorably about whatever was to follow.

“Spock,” Jim reached out and gently laid a hand on Spock’s knee.

Yes, he thought, he was definitely not going to like where this was going.

October 31, 2016

OMG! I love this so much!!!!!!!! Seriously this is my crack right now!

On 10/28/2016 at 10:41 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

As the lights raised Jim watched Spock quickly rise to his feet from his position at the edge of the bed and was struck by two very out of place things. 1) Spock had the most adorable case of bedhead which he clearly was unaware of, and 2) he looked decidedly unsteady on his feet. Jim spared half a second to enjoy the first while his feet carried him forward in a rush to steady his dubiously vertical First Officer.

“Whoa! Spock, sit back down. It’s just me.” He said, grabbing Spock’s upper arm in order to make sure he didn’t have an impromptu date with the floor.

Bedhead! Freaking cute! And I love your phrasing, "dubiously vertical, impromptu date with the floor", LOL!

On 10/29/2016 at 5:33 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

“Jim, Spock. And screw your efficiency, you’re—“

“I fail to see what bearing a metal pin with a helical thread—“

“Stop trying to distract me, I know you know what I mean. “

Spock trying to deflect by quoting literalness.

On 10/29/2016 at 5:33 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

Spock finally met Jim’s eyes, holding them briefly. Then he seemed to wilt just a little as he softly said, “I fear that logic may have 'left the equation', as you would say, some time ago. As such…I am somewhat at a loss as to how to proceed. Meditation does not appear to have any effect on the situation and I cannot endorse that I am at all enjoying this repeated experience.”

I want to cry for him, poor baby!

On 10/29/2016 at 5:33 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

That’s my Vulcan.

Awww!

9 hours ago, LostGirl2.0 said:

He gave himself a small mental shake to focus on the task at hand. He felt slightly detached from his body at first, but the more he focused on his actions the more he found himself able to exist with his consciousness in two places at one time. He always was good at multitasking.

This made me laugh.

9 hours ago, LostGirl2.0 said:

He felt his heart thrumming heavily in his side—and then realized how wrong that was. It must be Spock’s heartbeat that he was feeling. If Jim hadn’t been sitting he would have gone weak in the knees. How freaking cool.

Totally cool!

9 hours ago, LostGirl2.0 said:

He should have thought that ‘not-sneezing-directly-into-your-first-officer’s-face thing’ out a little more thoroughly beforehand.

LOL!

9 hours ago, LostGirl2.0 said:

“It’s, just… it’s just the build to it and—you know,” Jim’s eyes gleamed mischievously as he sat back a little, folding his arms confidently across his chest, “they actually say that sneezing is like a mini orgasm.” He smirked to himself. Let’s see what Spock does with that one.

Oh Kirk, you tease.

9 hours ago, LostGirl2.0 said:

Before Spock could come up with an alternative flaw in Jim’s reasoning, he heard the quick intake of air that often accompanied Jim’s ‘eureka’ moments, as he liked to term them, and gave pause. But when it was not immediately followed by the verbalization of said thought, he suddenly knew without a doubt that he was not going to feel favorably about whatever was to follow.

“Spock,” Jim reached out and gently laid a hand on Spock’s knee.

Yes, he thought, he was definitely not going to like where this was going.

Uh oh! I might have a guess but am super excited to see what comes next!!!!!!

This is so so so good!

November 1, 2016

A/N: @AngelEyes Thank you so much for the encouragement! I've been so nervous about posting this, so I can't tell you how much I appreciate your feedback! Here's the next part for ya - I have a feeling you probably did see it coming.

Part 7

“What if you tried it yourself now, while I’m here? We could meld like we just did and then I’ll be with you the whole time.” Jim watched the whites grow around Spock’s eyes as he instantly open his mouth to speak, but Jim didn’t give him a chance to voice the blatant refusal he knew was coming. “Wait,” he held up a hand, “just hear me out. “

Spock visibly struggled to reign himself in, but managed to take a deep breath and close his mouth. Jim was clearly his friend and has been nothing but helpful thus far…it would be illogical not to hear him out.

“If we do this together, right now, that’s going to be loads better than having it sneak up on you again while you’re on the bridge or something, right? And I’m sick of you hurting yourself over this when you’re already feeling like crap, so don’t think I won’t call you out on it if I see you doing it.”

Spock chose to ignore the illogic of Jim’s use of a slang term for fecal matter in comparison to his present states of malaise and instead looked at him guardedly. He was assessing whether or not he felt

Jim truly would follow up with such an unpleasant threat and found, rather disconcertingly, that he was uncertain. He knew Jim wouldn’t want to embarrass him, but he also knew Jim appeared to be very invested in his health at present and that was a variable he was unfamiliar with as he has never been ill before in the man's presence. He took another thorough look at Jim’s countenance and observed nothing but good-willed determination. His eyes narrowed. Yes, quite possibly Jim would do such a thing if he thought it was in Spock’s best interest. He would not be likely to value pride over health; although he often did so when it came to himself, he had never been seen to be tolerant of it in others.

Spock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew he was allowing his behavior to be ruled by his emotions in regard to this bodily function, and that was unacceptable. Un-Vulcan. If he must be unVulcan in regard to sneezing itself, he should certainly not also be unVulcan in his reaction to it. Spock shook his head slightly at the thought, his brain felt rather foggy and his thoughts considerably less articulate than normal.

Jim watched Spock turn inwards on himself. He hated putting him through all of this, especially when he should just be behaving like a normal sick person and resting, but if Spock was actually mulling this over and would allow him to help, it would be worth a little less sleep.

“Spock,” he gently called the other out of his reverie, “you trust me, right? Honestly, what’s the worst that could happen? You’ll feel be embarrassed? Uncomfortable? You know that I have no aversion to the idea of you sneezing or we wouldn’t even be having this conversation, so you don’t need to fear any judgement or adversity from me.”

Spock had looked up when Jim spoke and suddenly found himself without a valid contradiction. In fact, deep down, far beneath the uncontrollable fear, he knew he didn’t want to provide one. He was tired of experiencing these near debilitating episodes of anxiety over something so fundamental.

Jim pressed once more into the silence, “If you can’t take risks with a good friend by your side, then I’m not sure I know what a good friend is for. I’ll be right there with you, I promise.” Jim saw the moment the resolve hardened in Spock’s eyes and had to struggle not to ‘whoop!’ in triumph. Now they were really going to make some progress. He grinned, “We’ll do it just the same as I did, yeah? You can meld with me and then I’ll trigger it and it’ll be over in seconds!” Jim spoke quickly, eager to get moving before Spock might have a chance to think better of the whole endeavor.

But Spock held onto his determination and simply scooted himself closer to Jim as Jim reached to his right and grabbed another couple of tissues. He handed a few to Spock and kept one for himself that he deftly twisted it to a point. He looked at Spock and smiled encouragingly before reaching for Spock’s left arm and indicating that he should start the meld.

Distracted by suppressing his fear and maintaining his calm demeanor Spock simply closed his eyes and allowed Jim to place his fingers on the psi-points. Completely neglecting to speak the ritualistic phrases for initiating the meld, he found not really missing the formality as he slipped effortlessly back into Jim’s consciousness. It felt like coming home. His overall anxiety lessened and he felt suddenly empowered by the confidence and reassurance radiating through Jim’s being. Twenty plus years of negative conditioning... But Jim would be with him. It would not be so bad.

Jim suppressed a shiver of delight as Spock’s mind once again slid into his, like he’d had an empty space inside of him his whole life just waiting to filled by a Spock-shaped presence. He really was going to have to be careful, he could far too easily get addicted to this. He mentally shook himself out of the warm, blissful, almost soporific feeling that had come over him and reluctantly brought half of his consciousness back to their physical surroundings. He smiled at the picture Spock presented: flushed and too pale, shades of green irritation marring normally flawless skin, but solid and strong in his presence nonetheless. The trust the Vulcan was placing in him made Jim’s heart soar with a feeling that he quickly distracted himself from, not yet willing to consider that it might have a name.

He wrapped half of his consciousness around Spock, gently preparing and reassuring him as he leaned forward and lightly touched the tissue to the inside of Spock’s left nostril.

HIH!!! Spock gasped desperately and instantly reared back, the tickle so strong and instantaneous he lost his tenuous handle on the situation. His body reacted instinctively without his permission and he quickly jerked his right hand up to rid himself of the surprisingly intense and once again unwelcome sensation.

Shit! Oh no you don’t! Jim dropped the tissue and firmly clamped down on Spock’s wayward hand with his left while reaching around with his right hand to clasp the back of Spock’s neck and pull him closer. He knew Spock could overpower him even in his present less-than-optimal state, but was pleased and rather proud when Spock allowed him to take control.

Spock’s breath continued to hitch madly as he instinctively fought the reflex with all he had.

Hhuhhh… huhhhh-HIH! HIH! Huhh…

Jim, now with Spock’s forehead secured on his shoulder and feeling at least mildly confident that the inhumanly strong Vulcan wouldn’t wrench himself away, rapidly turned his consciousness away from the room and focused entirely on getting Spock to stop fighting. He delved deeper and deeper into the meld until he once again felt his own heartrate respond to the intensity of Spock’s fear. He drew a deep breath and when he exhaled he poured into Spock every ounce of calm and comfort, safety and reassurance that he could muster.

Hihh! Huhhhhh…

He felt Spock beginning to respond to him, to open up to him, and then grasp for him with such desperation and vulnerability that Jim was entirely overwhelmed by that feeling-he-would-not-name. He suddenly found himself pressing a kiss to Spock’s temple, thinking he might burst from the strength of the emotion pouring through him.

Huhhhhh!

The instant Jim’s lips touched Spock’s skin a wave of euphoria overtook him and he was lost. Lost to himself, lost to reality… The last vestiges of his control were demolished and he was slammed back into reality as his body finally gave in.

HIH-HIHHHH!!! H’ESHHH!! E’shhu! ISHH! TCH! Tch! Tch! Tch! Hih’ISHHU!!

Jim snapped back to reality when Spock’s body started to convulse against his own, the meld broken by the force of his sneezes, and tried not to smile like an idiot into Spock’s hairline while he braced Spock’s quaking body against his. He’d just realized something. He was pretty sure he was in love with Spock. He’d known he was attracted to the guy and they were kind of dating but, love? Jim Kirk in love? And with Spock? Bones would never let him hear the end of it. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all and shout with joy at the same time. Instead he settled for kissing Spock’s temple once again and bringing himself back to the moment because him discovering he was in love was not what this was about right now.

Jim ran his fingers through the soft black silk of Spock’s hair and lifted his lips from Spock’s head to ask if he was alright when—

“Heh’eshh-ESHHHH!”

“Bless you!” He jumped slightly at the unexpected force of the sneezes. Ignoring Spock’s mumbled “Excuse me”, he held the Vulcan’s head gently as he reached over and grabbed for a few more tissues. Then he placed his hands on Spock’s shoulders to help the exhausted Vulcan sit back up.

Spock was panting slightly, struggling to catch his breath after the extensive fit. His face was buried in a handful of tissues of his own, but he gratefully took the fresh ones when they were proffered. He had gotten his hand free of Jim’s rather quickly once his body had taken over, but not quickly enough, he thought, grimly that there was a spot of wetness on the shoulder of Jim’s command shirt. Spock turned away, quickly and efficiently blowing his nose, to much greater effect he noted. It seemed sneezing had a loosening effect on his congestion. That was certainly a positive outcome. Once he was finished he turned back to Jim and did his best to control his body’s urge to flush any further from embarrassment.

“Jim…” He began, rather awkwardly. “I must apologize. I had not realized I had gotten so close to you after the meld was initiated and…” he trailed off, dropping an ashamed gaze to the shoulder of Jim’s shirt.

Jim, whose mind was still half whirling from his revelation, looked down, startled. “Oh! Oh, that? No worries Spock, I pulled you toward me so that’s totally on me. Hah! On me… “ he chuckled to himself at his inadvertent pun. Spock raised an eyebrow. Jim grinned back unapologetically and promptly extracted himself from his shirt, leaving him in just his blacks. Not that it bothered him any to keep the shirt on, he just thought that the evidence might continue to upset Spock, so he would rather get rid of it altogether.

“So?” Jim looked at him expectantly.

Spock couldn’t help but think Jim seemed disproportionately pleased about the whole experience. Then again... Spock shivered slightly as he remembered the flood of affection and…desire…that had flooded through him causing him to lose control. That was something that certainly bore smiling about. He closed his eyes to focus more intently on analyzing--or he supposed one more inclined to lyricism might call it 'daydreaming'--about the memory of that feeling. If Vulcan’s dreamed that is…

Jim saw Spock’s shiver and subsequent sway and immediately berated himself. Spock was sick. The important thing was that he had conquered a fear tonight. The analysis could wait for later, after he’d gotten some proper rest.

“Alright, Spock,” Jim turned on his Captain voice, “time to get into bed properly”. He got up off the mattress and crouched down to begin undoing the boots on Spock’s feet.

Spock protested, though with rather less enthusiasm that normal, “Jim, I am fully—“

“Nope!” Jim cut him off. “Not listening.”

“That is an entirely immature response hardly befitting of—.”

Jim grinned up at him unapologetically. “Uh-uh!” He finished with Spock’s shoes and kicked off his own. “Here, take off your blues.” He didn’t wait for Spock’s compliance and began to force the Vulcan’s uniform over his head before Spock finally took control of the situation and divested himself of his outer garment as requested. Jim then took off his black undershirt, Spock kept his quarters significantly warmer than the rest of the ship and he didn’t want to overheat. Spock’s elevated body heat alone was going to make it a bit of a challenge, but one that he found he was almost looking forward to.

Jim tossed their discarded clothing into the laundry shoot and roughly tugged the covers down before guiding Spock so that he was lying in the bed. “Jim, I ought to change into the proper—“

“Nah,” Jim cut him off again, which was appearing to become an irksome habit.

“I saw you shivering and you’ll be warmer in your thermals than you would in those thin standard issue cotton PJs, anyway.”

Spock had not been shivering from cold at the time, but he did not feel the need to correct the Captain’s misconception at that moment. Reflecting on it now, he was indeed slightly chilled as he was, so perhaps Jim had a point.

The next thing Spock knew the blankets had been pulled tightly around him…and so had Jim.

“…Jim?”

Jim snuck his arm around Spock and pulled him close so that Spock’s head rested on his shoulder. Another perfect fit, he mused. “This ok?”

Apparently that was all the explanation Spock was going to get. He found strangely that he didn’t mind.

He tilted his forehead further towards Jim’s chest, reveling in both the surge of internal warmth as the meld-like connection between them once again sprung to life and in the blessed external coolness of Jim’s skin against his slightly too warm head.

He may have sighed a little as he closed his eyes, murmuring a sleepy, “Indeed”.

Jim gave in once more to the urge to kiss the top of Spock’s head. “Computer,” he whispered, as Spock had already started to give a heartbreakingly adorable, light, congested snore, “lights off.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A/N: So, in regards to the original scene that I wrote this for, I could totally end the story here. However...I have to admit I'm a huge hurt/comfort genre fan, so I've got drafts of some major sick Spock whump ahead if you guys want me to keep going.)

November 1, 2016

I vote for more sick Whump!Spock! This story is lovely and your writing of Spock and Jim's inner thoughts is great .

November 1, 2016

Oh my God, there aren't words for how amazing this is. Please please please continue!!!!!!! Just... Wow. That was incredible. Thank you so much for writing this. Really.

November 1, 2016

I sadly had no time to reply here before but I'm SO IN LOVE WITH YOUR FIC! :heart: It's adorable! And now I really, really need to comment: Please continue! :jumpy:

November 1, 2016

Just let me... pull myself together and recover from the shock... :lol:

I love the build-up (but that's always what I prefer), I love the mind-meld, I love Spock, this is great!!!

13 hours ago, LostGirl2.0 said:

I have to admit I'm a huge hurt/comfort genre fan, so I've got drafts of some major sick Spock whump ahead if you guys want me to keep going.

HOW can you ever ask such a thing?!? Sick Spock is always the best. Please continue!!!

November 2, 2016

OMG! Totally Amazing! I may have been making some strangely undignified noises while reading this. And grinning stupidly. I have no words fully appropriate to the greatness of this!

On 10/31/2016 at 9:12 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

He was assessing whether or not he felt

Jim truly would follow up with such an unpleasant threat and found, rather disconcertingly, that he was uncertain.

On 10/31/2016 at 9:12 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

He took another thorough look at Jim’s countenance and observed nothing but good-willed determination. His eyes narrowed. Yes, quite possibly Jim would do such a thing if he thought it was in Spock’s best interest.

Yes Spock. Yes he would.

On 10/31/2016 at 9:12 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

He knew he was allowing his behavior to be ruled by his emotions in regard to this bodily function, and that was unacceptable. Un-Vulcan. If he must be unVulcan in regard to sneezing itself, he should certainly not also be unVulcan in his reaction to it. Spock shook his head slightly at the thought, his brain felt rather foggy and his thoughts considerably less articulate than normal.

Poor Spock!

On 10/31/2016 at 9:12 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

Completely neglecting to speak the ritualistic phrases for initiating the meld, he found not really missing the formality as he slipped effortlessly back into Jim’s consciousness. It felt like coming home.

Awwwww!

On 10/31/2016 at 9:12 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

Jim suppressed a shiver of delight as Spock’s mind once again slid into his, like he’d had an empty space inside of him his whole life just waiting to filled by a Spock-shaped presence. He really was going to have to be careful, he could far too easily get addicted to this.

Even more Awww! I would definitely be addicted!

On 10/31/2016 at 9:12 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

He’d just realized something. He was pretty sure he was in love with Spock. He’d known he was attracted to the guy and they were kind of dating but, love? Jim Kirk in love? And with Spock? Bones would never let him hear the end of it.

Awwww! Bones definitely won't let that go!

On 10/31/2016 at 9:12 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

Spock couldn’t help but think Jim seemed disproportionately pleased about the whole experience.

LOL! Of course he is!

On 10/31/2016 at 9:12 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

“Nope!” Jim cut him off. “Not listening.”

“That is an entirely immature response hardly befitting of—.”

LOL!

On 10/31/2016 at 9:12 PM, LostGirl2.0 said:

The next thing Spock knew the blankets had been pulled tightly around him…and so had Jim.

“…Jim?”

Jim snuck his arm around Spock and pulled him close so that Spock’s head rested on his shoulder. Another perfect fit, he mused. “This ok?”

Apparently that was all the explanation Spock was going to get. He found strangely that he didn’t mind.

So cute!

I'm all for more! I'm hooked!

November 3, 2016

A/N: Alright! Onward we go! Thanks, everyone!! (I will admit that this story kind of wrote itself without much planning from this point on, so it gets a bit intense. I hope you enjoy!)

Part 8

Jim woke in a cold sweat with his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his throat and no idea why. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and looked around wildly expecting to see the flashing lights of a red alert, but he could find nothing amiss in the dark room...which was clearly not his own. Spock’s room! It all came back to him in a flash. He quickly turned to his left and saw Spock curled on his side still facing him, fist pressed under his nose, a tortured expression on his face. He realized their ankles were touching and that was why he had woken to Spock’s silent distress. Instead of obeying his body’s immediate desire to end the contact and remove itself from the suffocating waves of anxiety pouring off the Vulcan, he quickly pulled Spock towards him instead. His breath caught in his throat at the sheer intensity of the heat radiating off the Vulcan. He was almost too hot to hold. ShitShitShit! How had he gotten so much worse so quickly? They couldn't have been asleep for more than 4 hours! He needed to get him to Sickbay, now.

Suddenly Jim’s own mounting anxiety was bulldozed by a wave of terror so strong he was sure he was about to get a second look at his dinner. Jesus! Emotions really do run deep in Vulcans. The next time I see Spock’s father it’s going to be hard not to punch him in the face. What a ridiculous thing to give someone a complex over! Jim forced a slow inhale and rode out the nausea as he pulled Spock in even tighter and began projecting feelings of comfort and whispering platitudes he had no sense of.

“Shhhh-shhhhhh…. Hey, it’s ok. C'mon, you don’t need to be afraid of this, remember? I’m right here. I’m right here. I got you, just let go. “

“Hiiiihhhh….. HIH!! Hehhhhhh….”

“Please just let go because you’re burning up and it's scaring the hell out of me and I’ve got to get you to Sickbay—“ He broke off, worrying his bottom lip. Was Spock even awake? Jim hadn’t been entirely certain at first, but he was rapidly beginning to doubt it.

“Spock, Spock!” he spoke more loudly. “Come on. Just relax, it’s ok. We’ve got to get your heart rate back down.”

“HIH!! Hiiihhhh!!”

Hand cradling the back of Spock’s head, the sides of their faces pressed against each other, he took another deep breath and opened himself up to Spock. He let everything he was feeling rush forth—desperation, frustration, compassion, fear… And he felt the exact moment that his emotions overwhelmed Spock once again and his unconscious control snapped.

"HIH!! HIH!!! He’ESCH! ESH! IHHSSHH!!"

Jim let out the breath he'd been holding and pressed his cheek to Spock’s head, bracing him as the hard sneezes wracked his body. Completely uncaring of the cool mist from Spock’s sneezes hitting the exposed skin of his shoulder and chest.

"Hi’ISSHH! Tch! Tch! Tch! H’Tch! Hihhh-HIH!!"

Spock’s body tightened like a coiled spring as he gasped, desperately on the edge. Jim quickly ducked his head to Spock’s and, remembering how sensitive his nose had been earlier, chanced a quick kiss to the quivering appendage and was rewarded with a sneeze so hard it almost wrenched Spock from his grip.

"HI’IIIISHHHHH!!"

Good God, Spock, Jim thought. You never do things by halves, do you? Jim grabbed for the tissues on the nightstand and gently lifted Spock’s chin to clean him up, he clearly wasn’t conscious. Through all of that?! Not good. Jim tenderly wiped Spock's now running nose and then gave his own chest a cursory swipe before he tried one last time to rouse the burning Vulcan.

“Spock. Spock!” he all but yelled, gently shaking the Vulcan’s shoulder and smoothing the sweat soaked hair back from his head. No response, just the slightest pained whimper and a deepening of the frown lines on his brow---which was enough to send Jim over the edge. Spock never got sick. Spock certainly never got sick like this. He reached up and slammed the com to call for Bones.

“Kirk to McCoy”

Suddenly Spock started coughing. Hard. A dry, hacking sound that left him gasping for breath. He slid around to Spock’s side and lifted him up so that gravity might help him clear whatever it was he was struggling with.

He hit the com button again. “Kirk to McCoy!”

“Jim? Jesus man, do you have any idea what ungodly hour it is? Bats are the only things that should be awake right now—“

“Bones,” Kirk cut him off, no patience for indulging one of the doctor's patented rants, “Spock’s sick and I can’t wake him to get him to Sickbay. I need you here 10 minutes ago.” He could hear banging in the background and knew his friend must have recognized the urgency in his voice.

“Symptoms?”

Jim held the still coughing Spock tighter, the harsh, grating, and now alarmingly wet sound making it hard for him to focus.

“He honestly just seemed like he might have had a cold a couple of hours ago. I let him off shift early and came to check on him in the evening and he wasn’t doing great, but he certainly wasn’t like this. He’s on fire, Bones. And his lungs sound terrible. He can’t seem to catch his breath and I can’t wake him up…”

“Alright, alright, Jim. Take a breath. Stay with the hobgoblin, I’m on my way.”

McCoy disconnected and Jim mumbled to himself, “Like I’m going to go anywhere else...”

Spock’s coughing seemed to have calmed for the moment, which Jim was immensely grateful for, but he’d started to shiver. It was then that Jim took the time to notice that Spock was drenched in sweat. Jim laid him down gently and worked the soaked top off Spock’s trembling form as carefully as he could. Spock’s eyes were clenched tightly shut in discomfort or pain, probably the latter knowing him. Jim pulled the bedding up over Spock’s shoulders and was about to go grab a new shirt from the nightstand when the door chimed and Bones strode in, CMO override code making itself useful. Jim abandoned his pursuit of clothing in favor of staying close to Spock’s side for McCoy’s exam.

“Alright, let’s see what the green-blooded disease you’ve managed to contract for yourself, Spock.” Bones’s tricorder was already out and scanning as he leaned over Spock’s trembling, panting form. Jim watched anxiously, hand rubbing absently up and down Spock’s blanket covered arm. Then he suddenly noticed that Spock didn’t seem to just be winded from his coughing fit, but that it almost looked as if he were struggling to draw a full breath. Jim’s heart lodged in his throat. He opened his mouth to alert the doctor to his observation, but Bones beat him to the punch.

“What the…” Suddenly there was an intensity and urgency to McCoy’s movements that hadn’t been present a moment ago. He ripped down the covers to get a better look at Spock’s chest, but was never really afforded the chance. Right at that moment Spock’s body spasmed as he coughed harshly, emerald green liquid spewing forth, splattering his chin and his chest.

“Shit!” Bone’s exclaimed, “Get on his side, now!” Jim quickly rolled Spock over onto his side as he continued to cough, droplets of blood decorating the pristine white sheets. Bones ripped out his com.

“McCoy to Sickbay, I need an emergency team and an air-gurney to the Commander’s quarters, right now!”

The response came immediately, “Aye, Doctor.”

“What the hell is wrong with him, Bones?!” Jim tried to ignore the way his voice seemed to shake, but he was terrified. How had this happened? Several hours ago Spock had just seemed under the weather and now he was struggling to breathe and coughing up blood.

“Other than the obvious pressing matters that his lungs are filling up with blood and he’s running the fever of the century, I have no idea. I need to get him to Sickbay—” Spock’s coughing abruptly ceased and his head rolled back limply. Jim swore his heart stopped beating and Bones cursed reaching frantically for a pulse point. Jim watched his face for any indication of what he found, too terrified to speak. The harsh worry lines on Bone’s face eased just a little and Jim took that to mean that Spock was still with them. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

“Where the hell is my gurney?!” Bones roared at no one in particular. And as if the desperation in his call had finally summoned them, the door chimed and the doctor hurried to admit the team. Two orderlies rushed in with an air-gurney trailing behind them.

“Let’s get him up. Jim, grab his legs.”

They quickly and efficiently hoisted the unconscious Spock onto the gurney and were out the door without pause. Jim was glad for the early hour as they sprinted down the hallway. Spock wouldn’t want any of the crew to see him like this, and to be honest, Jim wasn’t sure he was in the best shape either. In fact, he’d only just now realized he hadn’t even stopped to put on a shirt. He’d have to ask one of the nurses for a spare.

They turned the corner into Sickbay and Jim was brought up short when Nurse Chapel latched onto his bicep, curtailing his pursuit. “The doctor is going to take him into the surgical suite as a precaution, so you’ll need to wait out here, Captain.” Jim huffed an angry sigh, Bones must have called ahead to her while they had been running. Sneaky bastard. “Might I instead offer you a shirt, Captain, while you wait?”

“Oh! Yeah, uh…” He tried to imagine he was able to stop the flow of blood before it reached his cheeks. “Yes please, Christine, I’d really appreciate it.”

------------------------------------------------

Half an hour later found Jim seated, hunched over in a scrubs top tapping his foot restlessly. When the suite doors wooshed open Jim was on top of Bones in a second.

“How is he?”

Bones held up a placating hand and gestured back to the seats. Jim noticed the persisting frown line on his brow and tried not to demand an answer as Bones wearily sat himself down and waited for Jim to do the same.

“He’s stable. But that’s about all he is at this point. Jim, his lungs look like they went three rounds with a steel scouring pad and lost. They’re bleeding and scarred, in fact his nasal passages looked much the same. He’s definitely been having nosebleeds, did he tell you about that?”

Jim shook his head mutely, completely at a loss as to what to say. Why the hell hadn’t Spock said anything?! …Wait, who was he kidding, this was Spock. He wouldn’t mention his arm was falling off until it was already on the floor, and only then if he encountered some part of his duties that couldn’t be carried out single handedly. Otherwise he’d just go until he collapsed from blood loss.

McCoy continued, “His whole upper respiratory tract’s bleeding and scarred, not to mention the fact that he’s still running a marathon of a fever. My best guess right now is he’s been exposed to some infectious, inflammatory substance that his system couldn’t tolerate, but until my labs come back I have no idea what. “

“A substance? What does that even mean? And how? He hasn’t been on an away mission for at least 3 weeks. He hasn’t even been off the ship in that amount of time. He stayed on board when we restocked at Starbase 14 last week.”

Bones scrubbed his face with his hands. “Hopefully I’ll know more in a couple of hours. ...God damned stubborn, Vulcan. If he’d have come to me when his nose started bleeding we might have gotten a jump on this. ”

Jim took pity of his friend, he was clearly trying his best. “You know Spock, Bones. It’s just how he is. Is...there a chance I could see him?”

“Yeah sure, but you’ve got to go through the sterilization chamber and gown up first. I’ve got him in a filtered, positive pressure isolation room until we figure out what he picked up and where—yes, Jim, it’s that serious.” Jim closed his gaping mouth. “He just barely avoided being intubated and he’s still not on as solid a ground as I would like.”

The outer doors opened to admit them and sealed tightly as a sterilizing mist rained down. Jim and McCoy both gowned up. No masks needed, contact precautions only, Bones said. The inner doors parted to admit them and they stepped inside.

The room itself was quite warm, Jim smiled slightly at that, Bones totally had a soft spot for Spock, though he’d never admit it. The room also emitted a soft hissing noise as air was continually vacuumed out and pumped back in. That, on the other hand, was going to drive Spock batty. His ears were so much more sensitive than humans, so it was probably like having a waterfall in your bedroom.

Jim moved quickly to Spock’s side. He was still unconscious, but otherwise, outside of his pallor and the still-too-rapid inhalations, he looked almost like he was asleep. The pain lines that had been etched into his face earlier we’re no longer present and the blood splatters had been washed away. Jim was incredibly grateful for that. He looked over to Bones, “I’d like to stay in here with him tonight. Is that gonna be a problem?” Bones hesitated and looked like he’d decided to protest when Jim continued, “If you’re worried about me at all, there’s only 4 or 5 more hours until I’m on shift anyway, and I won’t be able to sleep if I’m worrying about whether or not my First Officer is still breathing.”

McCoy gave him an inscrutable look. “You know you’re not fooling anyone, Jim.” And before Jim could ask for clarification or protest, McCoy plowed onward. “But sure, go ahead and stay with him. Will give me a chance to go to the labs myself and see if I can’t speed things up. I sent Christine back to bed, but she should be back before you have to head for your shift. Here—“ He moved over to a panel in the wall and pulled it down, revealing a thin cot. “This’ll be better than a chair. Get some rest if you can. He’s holding his own right now, and the bed will alert me if anything changes.”

“Thanks, Bones. I appreciate it.”

McCoy nodded and left. Jim turned back to Spock and seeing a basin with a washcloth near the head of the bed, proceeded to wet it and gently lay the cool cloth on Spock’s sweaty brow.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear me? That was…” Jim shuddered. “I’m gonna be having nightmares about that for a while, Spock. …What in the world happened to you?” He mused aloud. He slumped gracelessly into the chair to Spock's right and leaned forward to rest his arms and head on the bed. He lightly grasped Spock’s covered forearm with his hand. “You get better, ok? That’s an order.” Jim closed his eyes, the adrenaline dump finally getting to him. He fell asleep to the uneasy sounds of Spock’s shallow breaths and the white noise of the isolation room.

November 3, 2016

OMG! My heart!!!! That was amazing. I was literally holding my breath and I NEED to know what happens!!!!!!! You write the mind meld between them so well. I can almost feel it myself. And the panic. First Spocks, then Jims, then Bones. Wow! I can't even take it!

1 hour ago, LostGirl2.0 said:

Good God, Spock, Jim thought. You never do things by halves, do you?

Apparently so!

This is seriously my drug right now. I'm totally addicted and craving more!

November 4, 2016

I can't even come up with words to how much this fic is rocking me to my core!! please do continue, I might pine if you don't! :boom:

November 4, 2016

Ouch, this one was a bit rough... But great! I feel so sorry for Spock, I hope Bones will fix it quichly (well, not so quickly of course, but you seee what I mean...).

November 4, 2016

It's very well written! (Even if I have to admit that it was a bit too heavy/serious for me to really enjoy it :blushsad: But I'm sure there are a lot of people who are contrary to my preferences and love such stories)

I hope you continue the story (and Bones can fix the most serious things :doc: )

November 5, 2016

A/N: Thank you so much for your feedback, guys! @ichixshiro14 I'm so glad you like it!! Hopefully no pining needed. You guys are definitely helping me keep this going. @Aliena H. and @Red, I'm so sorry it got a bit too intense in that one. It does lighten up again for a while, but overall it seems to be shaping up to be a bit dramatic. If you're not into continuing (which I totally get - this really did go to a bit of an extreme place for me too, lol, but I think I'm gonna run with it just to see what happens anyway) then I really can't thank you enough for your feedback up to this point. <3 Sincerely from the bottom of my heart: @Fuzzy&Warm, @spirkestielgirl87, and Isbn, and everyone else who took the time to post a reply - I can't thank you enough. I kinda freak out every time I throw something new up and you guys are keeping me going. Sending out much love in return! And last, but not least, @AngelEyes - You are so wonderful, I truly can't tell you how grateful I am for your feedback and I am so, SO happy that you're into this fic as much as I am!!! I hope this next bit does you proud! (Double-length post tonight just for you!)

Disclaimer: This is so not the site to be posting dubious sneeze-related facts, but I found some people on google at least that seemed to agree with what I needed to be true for this story, so even if it is completely incorrect - I would ask that you please forgive me and maybe just pretend it's possible in the Star Trek Universe for the mini part I wanted it to play in the story? Thanks and I hope you enjoy!!

~LG

Part 9

Spock’s senses seemed to come back online one by one. The first thing he noticed was a continuous whooshing noise, like one would hear when a strong breeze was blowing steadily by one's ears. That made little sense though, because he could feel no such air current. He struggled with this briefly before his sense of smell returned and then he knew without a doubt that he was in fact in Sickbay. He moved his fingers slightly and felt the heavy roughness of hospital grade blankets over his body. Now, although he was fairly certain where he was, he was still none the wiser as to why. He took a deep breath as he went to open his eyes, but instead of a lung full of air he found himself launched into a spectacular fit of coughing. Instantly the aches and pains of the days before slammed back into his consciousness and he finally had some inkling as to why he might have ended up where he has.

He turned onto his side and tried to smother his coughs into the pillow while his arms instinctively went to brace his aching chest. That was new, he catalogued distractedly as he began to find it more and more difficult to draw in air. He was so busy trying to arrest the spell and just convince his body to breathe that he failed to notice that he was no longer alone until firm, sure hands rolled him away from the pillow and pressed a mask to his face.

“C’mon Spock, just breathe you pointy-eared bastard, breathe it in.” Spock blinked tears out of his eyes, what exactly did McCoy think he was trying to do? There was certainly little else that his body prioritized at the moment. Spock finally felt the tightness beginning to ease and his body slumped back exhaustedly onto the bed. He reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes and nodded at McCoy in gratitude. He closed his eyes once more, too drained to offer his typical retaliatory, condescending comment.

McCoy’s lined brow creased a little more deeply at what the capitulation indicated, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he picked up the discarded cloth, dampened it, and expertly wiped it across Spock’s brow and chest. His fever had dropped slightly, but not nearly as much as he would have liked and the Vulcan was still covered in a sticky sheen of sweat.

Spock was appreciative the cooling sensation, but only for a moment as he soon found himself fighting not to shiver. The covers were pulled back up around his shoulders and the mask removed.

“That nebulizer ought to help with the inflammation, but it—hey, you listening to me, Spock?”

Spock could have answered the doctor’s question for he had indeed been listening, but instead he found himself in a very unpleasant predicament. The mist of the nebulizer seemed to have caused an irritation to his increasingly sensitive nasal tissue. Spock squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the sensation and fervently wishing himself out of this situation with every fiber of his being.

“Are you in pain?”

The concern intruding on the doctor’s voice made Spock feel instantly guilty. Jim would not be pleased with him right now. But McCoy was not Jim, and Spock was not ready to let his guard down in front of anyone else if he could help it.

“I am—heh—fine, Doctor. The di-discomfort is at a manageable level—heh-HIH!!” Spock wrenched himself to the side away from McCoy and pinched his nose hard as he inhaled. He was thoroughly unprepared for the intensity of the spike of pain that radiated through his chest at this gesture. He fell back onto the bed in shock, a soft moan escaping as he fought to find his control and catch his ever fleeting breath through a haze of pain. Things certainly had changed since he was last conscious.

“What the—?! Spock, what the hell are you doing, you idiot? Don’t you want your lungs to heal?” McCoy bent angrily over a tray of hypos and began to put several together as he continued to lecture. “Because they won’t if you continue pulling stunts like that. Just sneeze if you need to sneeze, goddamnit! It’s your body’s way of trying to get the crap that’s making you sick out of your system.”

“Vulcans do not sneeze, doctor.” Spock said tiredly, and somewhat futilely he knew, but he couldn’t stop himself from putting forth the instinctive rebuttal.

McCoy snorted, “That’s a load of bull and you know it.” He turned back to Spock, his manner softening just slightly at the look of intense discomfort and indignation on Spock’s face. “Your heritage isn’t something to be ashamed of, Spock. So you’ve got a few of the less lovely parts of being human, so what? It makes you unique and, hell, easier to relate to. As easy as relating to an emotionless, computer-brained hobgoblin can be, anyway. This ship is primarily run by a crew full of humans….We get it.”

Spock felt somewhat chastened by McCoy's uncharacteristically mild and possibly even friendly comments and tried not to squirm under the man’s watchful gaze. “Be that as it may, doctor I—HIH!!” The sensation came out of nowhere. Fear flooded through him and before Spock could make a move to master the reaction, McCoy chose that moment to hypo him in the neck. Spock felt the physical sting of the injection with a surge of spiteful anger, certain that the man had somehow known this would happen and was waiting for the moment when he could distract Spock enough that he would fail to gain control of the impulse. Unfortunately for Spock, it worked. Spock’s heart in his throat and completely helpless, he twisted away from the doctor and sneezed violently into his fist.

“He’ESSSCHH! H’ISSSSSHU! Huh’TCHH!! TCH!! Tch! Tch! Tch! Tch! Tch! He’ETCHHHU!!”

He gasped for breath and coughed as lightly as he could, trying to keep it shallow lest he require the nebulizer once again and just perpetuate the humiliating cycle. He felt a hand on his shoulder and, peering through squinted eyes, noticed a handful of tissues in his view. He took them and gave a small nod of thanks before proceeding to gently blow his nose. He was not certain he had ever felt so embarrassed and weak in front of a colleague. Save Jim that is… He had just been about to lower his hand when the sensation flared once more and he pressed the tissues harder under his nose.

“Heh…hih-HIH h’ESSHHH-ESHHHU!!” He sniffed softly and wiped his nose again. If he could beam himself to another planet right now he would. “Excuse me, Doctor.” He mumbled, body directed as far away from McCoy's looming presence as he could get it without completely putting his back to the man.

McCoy sighed and pressed a hand to Spock’s shoulder guiding him back down onto the pillows. He was still panting and feverish, but the faint green blush on his cheeks was new and McCoy felt bad for the poor guy. It couldn’t be easy being the only one of your kind. Never quite passing 100% because of something sneaky like this.

“Gesundheit.” He said not unkindly and busied himself with resetting the hypo kit. “You get that from your mom, huh?”

“I would think it obvious that this trait came to me though my human mother as I did not lie when I stated that Vulcan’s do not—“

“No, no, you irascible elf. That’s not what I mean. I mean the way you sneeze. That rapid fire ten-times-in-a-row thing. That tends to be hereditary a lot of the time. Your mom sneeze that way too?”

Spock blinked. He had never considered it. He reached back in his memory and, now that he focused on it, found he could recall that she had sounded similar. Something inside of Spock warmed slightly at that. It was one thing to have just inherited something human, it was another to have something so uniquely in common with his mother. When Spock looked up from his musings McCoy was gone. Spock quirked an eyebrow, and maybe even a corner of his mouth, but he would deny it profoundly should the Doctor ever make a claim.

Jim had to try, very hard really, not to jog all the way to Sickbay at the end of his shift. Bones had commed around 1300 saying that Spock was awake and doing well. The isolation and filtered, positive pressure seemed to have halted his symptoms and even begun to allow him to recover. Jim turned into Sickbay and headed straight for Spock's room. He looked around, but Bones was nowhere in sight so he proceeded to let himself in. Gowned and smelling of disinfectant he found himself feeling somewhat hesitant as he approached Spock's bed. He couldn’t think of why, well maybe it had to do with that whole I-think-I'm-in-love-with-you thing he hadn’t gotten around to yet, but what he did know was that it all vanished the moment Spock’s eyes met his.

“Hey,” he was pretty sure he was grinning like a crazy person, “how are you feeling?” Spock’s eyes shone warm and welcoming.

“I—“ he coughed lightly, Jim quickly provided him with a cup of water from the bedside table. Spock nodded his thanks as he sipped. “Excuse me, as I was saying, I find that although the state of my health has declined from my most recent memory, it has been made clear to me that I am to be considered significantly improved.”

Jim snorted wryly, “Yeah, you could certainly say that. You scared the shit outta me last night, Spock.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at the turn of phrase, assuming the Captain had not indeed soiled himself, but didn’t comment. Jim certainly looked rattled and Spock did not wish to make light of his discomfort.

“I apologize Jim, I can truly say that I had no indication my condition would deteriorate as rapidly as it did. Prior to sleeping I had not felt significantly impaired.”

Jim crossed his arms and tried not to scowl too fiercely at Spock. “No indication, huh?” He paused to see if Spock would offer any admissions when put on the spot. None were forthcoming. “Then what the hell do you call the nosebleeds you were having? Get those daily, do you?”

Spock grimaced, looking away at the word “nosebleeds” and didn’t turn back. “I apologize, Captain.” He said in a low and mildly contrite voice. “At the time I was using the strategy you are aware of to avoid certain undesirable bodily experiences, and had assumed that the maneuver itself was the cause for the epistaxis. It has been…some years since I last employed the strategy and I had thought perhaps it was a normal response.”

Jim nearly had to pick his jaw up off the floor. His science officer, his super logical smarter-than-smart science officer appeared to have very little understanding of anatomy.

“You thought you pinched your nose so hard you made it bleed?” Jim tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice as he could sense Spock’s increasing level of embarrassment. Spock didn’t comment. Jim huffed out a breath and capitulated “Well I guess being that it’s not something you have a lot of practice with you could be forgiven.” He quirked a small smile at Spock, trying to lighten the mood once more. “So, Bones give you any more information about what he thinks is wrong?”

Spock relaxed, turning back to Jim, pleased to be offered the opportunity to slip back into what Jim called his 'report mode'. “He has confirmed that it was indeed a reaction to a particulate, but is still running tests to determine its exact nature and ascertain the origin.”

Jim shook his head and slumped down in the seat next to Spock’s bed. “I don’t get this, Spock. You haven’t been off the ship in weeks… Did you change anything about your routine in the past few days or so?”

Spock contemplated only briefly before answering confidently in the affirmative, “Negative, Jim, there have been no deviations to my normal routine aboard this ship.”

“And there’s no way this is a delayed reaction or something?”

“The doctor does not believe it to be so.”

“Mmmmm….” Jim all but growled. Then something terrifying occurred to him and he sat up rigidly. “He doesn’t—“ he broke off, not willing to actually say it out loud.

Spock knew where his Captain's mind had gone as the doctor had posited it himself, but Spock felt confident that this was not the case, and he said so. “I do not believe this to be in any way a targeted attack. We have been on our mission for just under a year and I have not once encountered hostility the likes of witch might provoke a biological attack.”

Jim slumped bonelessly back in his seat and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “So where does that leave us then?”

If Spock was someone who shrugged he would have done so at this time. “I believe it leaves us waiting on the doctor's a—“ he was stopped short when the irritation in his throat surged once more. He angled his body away from Jim, burying his face in a gowned arm, working to get the disturbance under control as quickly as is had started. Unfortunately, his body still wasn’t well and was far from its normal standards of performance. He quickly found himself gasping desperately for air in between coughs and once again was unaware that anything had changed until two sets of hands were pushing him back into his pillows and pressing the mask of the nebulizer back to his face. He continued to cough for several more seconds before the medication began to calm his aching, almost itchy feeling lungs. He'd closed his eyes somewhere in the process and kept them so to allow him greater focus and control over his breathing, optimizing how quickly he was responding to the treatment.

Jim stood to the side of Spock, hand still pressed to his shoulder nearly paralyzed by fear. He stared unblinking at the smattering of blood inside the oxygen mask and did he best to swallow hard past the massive lump lodged in his throat. He looked to Bones, eyes wide, uncertain of how alarmed to be by this turn of events.

Bones sighed heavily. “He’s ok, Jim. I mean, he’ll be even better once we figure this out, but in general the bleeding is slowing and his fever is at a much more manageable level. Now I’m going to get back to the poor kid who did his best to burn off three fingers fixing an energy relay. Here,” he tossed Jim a nearby box of tissues. “you’re probably going to need these, I’m afraid he’s not overly fond of what comes next.” Bones popped the mask off Spock’s face, wiped it out with a Sani-wipe, set it on Spock’s bedside table with a pointed look at Jim and left.

Jim looked down at the tissues in his hands completely at a loss until he turned his attention back to Spock, who had a fist pressed under his nose and was looking entirely put-out and miserable. Jim thought it was adorable. He tried not to smile at Spock’s present dilemma, but couldn’t deny he was somewhat pleased to have something he could help with. As Bones was away and it was unlikely Spock would have any other visitors for some time, Jim wedged himself rather gracelessly onto Spock’s bed, Spock at present too preoccupied to offer an opinion of the matter, and wrapped an arm around his back, carefully pulling him into him. He felt the Vulcan’s weight settle on his shoulder and chest and smiled to himself. In spite of this craziness, things between them seemed to be progressing quite nicely.

He felt Spock relax into him slightly allowing his still too warm forehead to brush the side of Jim’s neck and the connection was instantaneous. Effortless. He breathed in the pure rightness of it before plucking out a handful of tissues with his right hand. With his left he reached up to brush Spock’s sweaty bangs from his brow and leaned over to press a kiss to the line between his hair and his skin. He didn’t even have to try to project his feelings any more. They were right there on the surface. He felt Spock instinctively reach for him and readied himself for what he knew was coming next. Except that he didn’t know, because he was completely unprepared for the surge of affection and…love…that washed through him in response to his own. Jim was stunned. How had he not felt this before? He could sense it now fully, so deep and profound. He was sure he wasn’t breathing, he wasn’t even sure what breathing was at the moment.

Then suddenly, as if born completely from the meld, uncertain of by whom or how it had been initiated, warm lips were pressed to his and he was drinking in the most incredible feeling of his life. His hands—he still had hands right? He didn’t know where they were or what they were doing only that they were trying to take in as much of Spock as they could. He felt himself sliding deeper and deeper into an undeniable burning well of want and desire when abruptly the lips left his and he felt, inside himself actually, the tickle flaring in Spock’s nose and heard the desperate gasps for air as his breath began to hitch. Jim instinctively reacted to the need to sneeze as if it was his own, urging it on, coaxing out the sensation to achieve the release.

“Heh…hih!!”

He could feel Spock’s breath panting against his cheek—or was that him feeling his breath on Spock's cheek? He couldn’t tell for sure. But he was pretty positive he could feel Spock’s hands up the back of his shirt which caused him to grin internally in anticipation before his thoughts of bodily desire were once more overtaken by a necessary and undeniable bodily need.

“huh…hiiih-HIH!!” Jim felt the moment it became inevitable and through some distant secondary awareness managed to recall the tissues in his hand. He pulled himself back from, though not fully out of, the meld and pressed the tissues quickly to Spock’s nose as Spock was finally forced to give in.

“h'IISSHH! eh’CHISH!” Ashamed at having been caught unawares, Spock’s own hands rushed up to grasp the tissues Jim was holding as the fit fully took hold. “heh’KESH! TSSHH! Tch! Tch! Tch! Tch! Tch! Hih…”

Jim would deny it till the day he died, but he found these small almost cat-like sneezes irrationally cute. Spock would kill him if he knew. He felt Spock’s ire and amusement simultaneously as he realized they were still melded and felt thoroughly like an idiot. Well, nothing for it, you know now, he thought. Struggling not to laugh and failing slightly at Spock’s mounting frustration and disbelief through his furiously hitching breath.

“Hih-Hih!! He'ESSSHHU!!”

Jim opened his eyes, chuckling slightly and leaned down, smiling to kiss Spock’s hair. “Bless you.”

Spock glared up at him in what Jim deemed was disapproval for his entirely' illogical' level of mirth. This only caused Jim to laugh harder.

Spock dismissed him as temporarily insane and blew his nose with as much decorum as he could manage. He sniffed, inserting a level of distain into the gesture that only a Vulcan could, were a Vulcan ever subjected to bodily urges as base as sneezing.

Jim felt it before Spock did, having a lifetime of experience where Spock had none, and he took delight in that. He leaned his head against Spock's and spoke through their link, Bless you again.

Spock looked up from the tissue in confusion for a split second before the look turned to one of betrayal and dismay as he snapped his head away from Jim’s and back down into the tissues.

“H'KESH-ISSHHH!!”

Jim tried for Spock’s sake, but he really couldn’t stop smiling. When they were connected like this it felt like they had been together for forever, things just felt so undeniably right. It was amazing to experience and as Jim had feared, he was fast becoming addicted.

Spock let his hands holding the tissues drop and leaned back into Jim exhaustedly. He took a moment to ponder what was developing between them, so different from what he and Nyota had had. This required no effort, no struggle to understand and behave correctly, it simply was. He had felt the depth of Jim’s feelings for him and opened himself up allowing Jim a glimpse of his own and suddenly they had been wrapped completely in each other, mentally and physically and Spock had found himself breathless for an entirely different reason.

He closed his eyes and felt something akin to a smile cross his face. He hadn’t felt this cared for since his mother died and he hadn’t been sure he would ever be able to feel so again. Trust the man who didn’t believe in bad endings to be the one who proved him wrong.

---------------------------------------------

Spock hadn’t been aware he was dosing until he suddenly snapped back to awareness as Dr. McCoy entered his room from the sanitation chamber. Spock ascertained that Jim had also fallen asleep when he felt the man startle a moment after he had and subsequently scramble to extricate himself from the biobeed.

“Hold your horses, Jim. You can stay where you are. I told you, you two aren’t fooling anyone”. Spock determinedly avoided the doctor's eyes and Jim's face turned red as a beet. “Moving on from the fact that the bridge crew has had a pool going for months now about when you two would finally figure things out—pretty sure that Chekhov made out like a bandit, by the way, kid has a weird width sense about love. Anywho,” he strode up to the side of the bed and crossed his arms. “I’ve finally managed to figure out what’s wrong with you.”

Jim Sat up straight as a rod and Spock manages to weakly adjust so that his torso was slightly more raised.

“And?” Jim prompted.

“Well its not at all sinister so don’t get your panties in a bunch, by you’re still not gonna like it.”

Jim frowned at Bones frustrated with his flare for the dramatic just wishing he'd get on with it. Spock raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“Apparently we picked up new cleaning products at the starbase, particularly a new powder based product to combat mold in the humidification system. Some all natural thing that’s dispersed into the system to coat the walls, completely harmless to humans, but clearly not Vulcan certified.”

Jim let this sink in, he was relieved but only for a moment. How do you clean an entire ventilation system?

“I’ve already sent orders to stop using the new product, but there’s not much we can do about what’s already in the air. With time the concentration should dissipate, but until then we’ve got the scientists working on a counter-agent. However,” he added grimly, “there’s no guarantee they’ll find one or how long that might take.”

Jim spoke before Spock did, patience never one of his virtues. “So where does that leave him then? With the ship basically poisonous to him…until it’s not?”

“That’s the way of it, Jim. Until we’ve had a chance to study the substance closer we have no idea about its natural rate of decomposition.”

Spock finally chimed in, “I would like to volunteer to aid in researching a counter-agent to expedite the process, if you will permit me doctor.”

McCoy hesitated for a second and then settled on a compromise, knowing what this type of lock-down would do to Spock, and to his own sanity while the Vulcan was in-house no doubt. “You’re not getting anywhere near the actual stuff, of course, but whatever you think you can do off reports alone, once you’re significantly healed that is, I see no reason why not.”

“I am sufficiently capable of beginning this research at present, doctor, I see no reason to wait.”

McCoy gaped, and Jim gave him a look as if he’d grown a second head.

“Because, Spock,” McCoy ground out, “in case you haven’t noticed, you’re still running a decently high fever and coughing up blood. Now you may not care about all the hard work I’ve done on you, but you were in really bad shape less than 48 hours ago and I’m not really keen on letting you undo all of that. So you’re going to stay here and rest, like a good First Officer, until I damn well tell you to stop.”

Spock blinked and his brow furrowed, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. “I cannot see how operating a PADD while lying in bed could not still be considered resting, I am hardly like to strain myself—“

“At least let him have the PADD, Bones” Jim broke in on his behalf. “He’ll stay in bed and he won’t request any materials or run any tests—“ Spock opened his mouth but Jim eyed him sharply and he seemed to think better of it. “Right, Spock?”

“…Indeed, Captain.”

Jim smiled at Bones, “There! You see! Everybody’s happy!” He looked at his watch, frowned, and turned towards Spock, “I’ve actually gotta head out for a meeting with Scotty regarding some new idea he has about how to optimize the efficiency of our hydroponic couplers, but I’ll stop by tomorrow after shift again.” He gave Bones a nod, Spock an encouraging smile, and then hurried out the door.

McCoy looked at Spock appraisingly as the doors hissed shut. “If you promise me you’re going to rest for the rest of the night, I’ll send an ensign for your PADD first thing in the morning. Deal?”

“That is acceptable, Doctor.”

“Good!” McCoy clapped his hands together. “Now, the reason I came in here in the first place, you need to eat something Spock. Anything tickle your fancy?”

“I fail to see how an adjective can be the recipient of a verb's action—“

“Spock, don’t make me regret helping you breathe. Is there anything you would like to eat?”

“I do not find myself particularly hungry at this time, but....a bowl of plomeek soup would not be objectionable, if it is not inconvenient.” He knew the replicators in Sickbay were not as capable as those in the mess, particularly when it came to alien cuisine.

McCoy waved a hand dismissively, “Not at all. I’m headed there now myself” He turned to go and called over his shoulder as he proceeded through the doors. “I’ll bring you a bowl on my way back.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Spock said as the doors hissed shut behind him. Once again alone, he allowed himself a moment of weakness to rub gently at the aching soreness in his chest and allow his breath to come as it would, which was at a slightly higher rate than his normal respiration. Although loathe to admit it, if he were honest with himself he was exceedingly fatigued. In the absence of discerning eyes, he allowed himself to sink into the pillows and considered taking McCoy’s advice. Just considered, mind you. He wasn’t that…in need…of…rest….

November 5, 2016

10 hours ago, LostGirl2.0 said:

Things certainly had changed since he was last conscious.

Great deduction, Spock. Really.

Don't misunderstand my last comment: I really love your fic, I like sickfics even when they are a bit hard to read (I was just unprepared, but now I know where you're leading us). This is really great and I'm looking forward for more! I especially like McCoy's part in the story (he's the best, anyway).

A Star Trek Reboot Story (Kirk/Spock, Spock)

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