Fic: In Health and Sickness
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Rating: G
Pairings: Kirk/Spock
Disclaimer: as usual I own nothing.
Summary: Spock is sick and trying to ignore it in favour of working. Jim is not going to let him.
In Health and Sickness
Spock was looking at the worst performance review of his career. Or at least he would be if Jim Kirk was giving official reviews. Right now he was simply taking in details, as any concerned boyfriend should. Everyone else on the bridge no doubt thought that Spock was the height of professionalism as he always was, but Jim knew better. Oh, he was at his station on time as always and he was working, but instead of standing at the scanner he was leaning against it. He also kept glancing away to look at the wall as if the light seemed to hurt his eyes. His nose twitched at odd intervals as if he wanted to sniffle and could not bring himself to do so. It was obvious that he was sick and doing his best to simply suffer through it in the name of duty. This was unacceptable.
“Mr. Spock, can I see you for a moment? I have a matter I want to discuss with you.”
Spock barely managed a nod and they walked into the lift.
“What is it, Captain?”
“You’re sick.”
Spock just blinked and stood there silently.
“You aren’t denying it, are you?”
“Not at all, I am experiencing a general malaise yes, but it is not-” Spock broke off coughing into the crook of his arm.
Jim started rubbing his back.
“That settles it you’re going back to bed.”
Keeping one hand on his back Jim quickly brought Spock to his quarters; dimming the lights upon their arrival. Spock sat down on the edge of his bed.
“Now you stay here and relax. I’m going to get you proper nourishment.”
“I am not hungry.”
“You must be you didn’t eat breakfast,” Jim responded, frowning.
“My stomach has already made know to me its desire to remain empty by expelling last night’s dinner at 0200 hours. I have no desire to repeat the experience at this time.”
Jim gaped at him in shock. “You’ve been sick all night and you didn’t tell me?!”
Spock looked up at Jim quizzically. “As a Vulcan I have trained myself to suppress symptoms of the body to further the pursuits of the mind. It was not something to concern you with.”
When they had just been a command team maybe, but they were a couple now. It was always Jim’s concern.
“Well as a human I have trained myself to take pity on suffering life-forms and see that their every need is met, purely to aid your recovery of course.”
“Jim, this is highly illogical. I do not require a nursemaid.”
“Well you’re getting one anyway so lie down and enjoy it.”
With that declaration he went to his own quarters to gather supplies. He still had his own because it just wouldn’t do for his playboy reputation if women knew he was essentially sharing his living space with the sexy Vulcan first officer next door. Jim started to think that maybe he should make a permanent move to Spock’s quarters though. It would make it harder for Spock to try and hide it the next time he was sick.
He returned to the room with extra blankets, several pillows, and other assorted items to find Spock sprawled across the bed the sheets tucked around his legs. He had not even bothered to change out of his uniform and was instead letting it wrinkle. The man was obviously completely miserable.
Jim winced in sympathy and carefully arranged several pillows around his head. A low sounded that resembled a purr came from Spock as Jim tucked the blankets around him and continued shifting the pillows. Jim smiled thinking that maybe there was something to that rumour that Vulcans were descended from cats.
He took a thermometer from his collection of supplies and pressed it in Spock’s ear, frowning at the number that came up.
“Congratulations, Spock, you are the proud owner of a fever.”
“I am aware of that,” Spock answered tersely.
And a bad mood too.
Jim went to the bathroom, wet a cloth, and returned placing it gently against Spock’s forehead. Spock leaned into the cool sensation as Jim stood by him brushing wet strands of hair off his face.
“I must apologize, Jim, I realize that at this time my behaviour is…unappealing.”
“You’re sick it’s not supposed to be appealing…and I love you anyway.”
Spock stuck one hand out from the nest of blankets, two fingers outstretched. Jim smiled, raised his own hand, and curled his fingers around Spock’s.
“I’ll go get food.”
“Jim, I have already stated that I-”
“I know I’ll get something that won’t upset your stomach.”
With that he left and Spock simply lay there and wondered how he had been so lucky to have him as his t’hy’la.
Before long Jim returned with a tray of bland vegetable soup and large glass of some undetermined fizzing beverage. Spock sat up slowly and raised an eyebrow at the tray.
“I do not understand what purpose the colourful deformed straw serves.”
“Ascetics.”
When Spock had finished all that he could Jim moved the tray and got into bed beside him.
“Now isn’t this much better than suffering on the bridge for the sake of your pride?”
“It is not a matter of pride, Jim, it is simply that the body should not rule over the mind in such matters.”
“Well it would seem to be logical to me that you attend to those symptoms to the best of your ability to shorten the length of the disease; instead of ignoring them.”
Spock rolled over in the bed, cuddling the blankets closer to him.
“Perhaps, but attending to so many at once can prove taxing.”
“That is what I am here for, Spock.”
“And I am quite grateful.”
Jim gently cuddled in closer and wrapped an arm around Spock.
“In sickness and in health that’s how this works.”
“Jim, our relationship does not meet those criteria by virtue of human custom.”
Jim kissed Spock on the neck.
“I’d like it to.”
With his faced pressed against the pillow Spock could pretend he wasn’t smiling.
“Perhaps it could be arranged.”
The End
Rating: G
Pairings: Kirk/Spock
Disclaimer: as usual I own nothing.
Summary: Spock is sick and trying to ignore it in favour of working. Jim is not going to let him.
In Health and Sickness
Spock was looking at the worst performance review of his career. Or at least he would be if Jim Kirk was giving official reviews. Right now he was simply taking in details, as any concerned boyfriend should. Everyone else on the bridge no doubt thought that Spock was the height of professionalism as he always was, but Jim knew better. Oh, he was at his station on time as always and he was working, but instead of standing at the scanner he was leaning against it. He also kept glancing away to look at the wall as if the light seemed to hurt his eyes. His nose twitched at odd intervals as if he wanted to sniffle and could not bring himself to do so. It was obvious that he was sick and doing his best to simply suffer through it in the name of duty. This was unacceptable.
“Mr. Spock, can I see you for a moment? I have a matter I want to discuss with you.”
Spock barely managed a nod and they walked into the lift.
“What is it, Captain?”
“You’re sick.”
Spock just blinked and stood there silently.
“You aren’t denying it, are you?”
“Not at all, I am experiencing a general malaise yes, but it is not-” Spock broke off coughing into the crook of his arm.
Jim started rubbing his back.
“That settles it you’re going back to bed.”
Keeping one hand on his back Jim quickly brought Spock to his quarters; dimming the lights upon their arrival. Spock sat down on the edge of his bed.
“Now you stay here and relax. I’m going to get you proper nourishment.”
“I am not hungry.”
“You must be you didn’t eat breakfast,” Jim responded, frowning.
“My stomach has already made know to me its desire to remain empty by expelling last night’s dinner at 0200 hours. I have no desire to repeat the experience at this time.”
Jim gaped at him in shock. “You’ve been sick all night and you didn’t tell me?!”
Spock looked up at Jim quizzically. “As a Vulcan I have trained myself to suppress symptoms of the body to further the pursuits of the mind. It was not something to concern you with.”
When they had just been a command team maybe, but they were a couple now. It was always Jim’s concern.
“Well as a human I have trained myself to take pity on suffering life-forms and see that their every need is met, purely to aid your recovery of course.”
“Jim, this is highly illogical. I do not require a nursemaid.”
“Well you’re getting one anyway so lie down and enjoy it.”
With that declaration he went to his own quarters to gather supplies. He still had his own because it just wouldn’t do for his playboy reputation if women knew he was essentially sharing his living space with the sexy Vulcan first officer next door. Jim started to think that maybe he should make a permanent move to Spock’s quarters though. It would make it harder for Spock to try and hide it the next time he was sick.
He returned to the room with extra blankets, several pillows, and other assorted items to find Spock sprawled across the bed the sheets tucked around his legs. He had not even bothered to change out of his uniform and was instead letting it wrinkle. The man was obviously completely miserable.
Jim winced in sympathy and carefully arranged several pillows around his head. A low sounded that resembled a purr came from Spock as Jim tucked the blankets around him and continued shifting the pillows. Jim smiled thinking that maybe there was something to that rumour that Vulcans were descended from cats.
He took a thermometer from his collection of supplies and pressed it in Spock’s ear, frowning at the number that came up.
“Congratulations, Spock, you are the proud owner of a fever.”
“I am aware of that,” Spock answered tersely.
And a bad mood too.
Jim went to the bathroom, wet a cloth, and returned placing it gently against Spock’s forehead. Spock leaned into the cool sensation as Jim stood by him brushing wet strands of hair off his face.
“I must apologize, Jim, I realize that at this time my behaviour is…unappealing.”
“You’re sick it’s not supposed to be appealing…and I love you anyway.”
Spock stuck one hand out from the nest of blankets, two fingers outstretched. Jim smiled, raised his own hand, and curled his fingers around Spock’s.
“I’ll go get food.”
“Jim, I have already stated that I-”
“I know I’ll get something that won’t upset your stomach.”
With that he left and Spock simply lay there and wondered how he had been so lucky to have him as his t’hy’la.
Before long Jim returned with a tray of bland vegetable soup and large glass of some undetermined fizzing beverage. Spock sat up slowly and raised an eyebrow at the tray.
“I do not understand what purpose the colourful deformed straw serves.”
“Ascetics.”
When Spock had finished all that he could Jim moved the tray and got into bed beside him.
“Now isn’t this much better than suffering on the bridge for the sake of your pride?”
“It is not a matter of pride, Jim, it is simply that the body should not rule over the mind in such matters.”
“Well it would seem to be logical to me that you attend to those symptoms to the best of your ability to shorten the length of the disease; instead of ignoring them.”
Spock rolled over in the bed, cuddling the blankets closer to him.
“Perhaps, but attending to so many at once can prove taxing.”
“That is what I am here for, Spock.”
“And I am quite grateful.”
Jim gently cuddled in closer and wrapped an arm around Spock.
“In sickness and in health that’s how this works.”
“Jim, our relationship does not meet those criteria by virtue of human custom.”
Jim kissed Spock on the neck.
“I’d like it to.”
With his faced pressed against the pillow Spock could pretend he wasn’t smiling.
“Perhaps it could be arranged.”
The End