The Start of Something - Star Trek XI - Kirk/Spock - R - (4/6)
Title: The Start of Something
Pairing: Spock/Uhura, eventual Jim/Spock, Chekov/Sulu
Rating: R
Length: 815
Warning: Unbeta'ed. Some cursing, nothing major.
Summary: Five times Jim wanted to kiss Spock; and the one time he did.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. And no amount of begging and pleading will change that.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Waking up the next day was hell. There was obviously something stronger in that punch than vodka. Jim groaned and dragged his hands over his face, unsticking his tongue from the acrid roof of his mouth.
Squinting at the chronometer, Jim realized he was up on time for once. Not that being up right now was anything to be happy about.
Jim slowly pushed himself up and out of bed, and stumbled over to his desk. He fumbled with his communicator for a minute before pressing the right button.
“The hell do you want, Jim?” Bones’ southern drawl blasted out of the communicator, and Jim winced, almost dropping it.
“Shhhh Bones. Not so loud.” He croaked. His throat felt like he decided to eat flaming hot Vulcan rocks for breakfast.
“Oh hell no Jim. I am not giving you a hangover remedy. I told you the last time this happened…” Jim stopped paying attention to Bones’ voice, and started paying to attention to how very fucking cold he was.
“Computer. Raise temperature two degrees.” Jim rasped, setting his communicator back on the desk, abruptly ending the call with Bones without realizing it. Jim stepped over to his dresser and pulled on his old Academy sweatshirt, before shuffling back to bed and climbing in.
Just a few more minutes of sleep…
~
“…many times do I have to tell him to take it easy? Jesus fucking Christ. His temperature is way too high!” Jim whimpered and tried to burrow his head below his blankets even further.
“Jim?” Jim cracked an eye open to stare balefully at Bones.
“Whaddya want?” Jim whispered, wincing when speaking brought his attention back to the burning in his throat. Bones sighed and shook his head.
“Every fucking time. Jim, why didn’t you tell anyone you had the flu?” Jim furrowed his brow.
“Do not.” Bones glared at him. “Yes you do. And you’re not going anywhere until you’re all better.” Jim’s protestations were drowned out by another voice. A voice that made Jim feel all warm and snuggly inside.
So maybe he did have a fever.
“Captain, I agree with Doctor McCoy.” Spock said, lifting an eyebrow at Jim as if daring Jim to contradict. Jim glared at him and stuck his tongue out.
“Whatever. You just want my ship.” Jim croaked, turning his back on Bones and Spock. He shivered violently and winced when his sore head jerked around.
“Are you quite certain there is nothing you can do for him?” Spock asked quietly behind him, ignoring Jim’s pitiful attempts to banter with him.
“He just needs to stay warm for right now.” Bones replied. “But he’s already got the heat cranked up, and tons of layers on. I don’t see what could make him warmer.”
After a few seconds of silence, Jim felt warmth engulf the curve of his shoulder. He sighed in pleasure, and a small smile broke out on his lips.
“I believe I have found the solution.” Spock’s voice was low, and Jim shivered with something that definitely had nothing to do with how cold he was.
“If you’re sure Spock.” Bones sounded uncertain. “Is this ok with you Jim?”
Jim nodded slightly, and rolled his shoulder back as he tried to get more of that delicious warmth.
“Alright. I already gave you a hypo before you woke up. Spock, in four hours give him this one.” Jim heard something click as it made contact with his desk, and he glared at the wall when he realized it was a hypospray.
“I hate you.” Jim growled, and glared even harder when he heard Bones laugh.
“Oh, I know. Feel better kid.” Jim heard the swish of his doors as Bones left, and then there was silence.
Silence until Spock, who hadn’t removed his hand from Jim’s shoulder, broke it.
“Jim.” Funny. He almost sounded…hesitant.
“Get in the bed, Spock. I’m tired and I want to go back to sleep.”
“As you wish.” Jim had heard something about that phrase before, and it niggled in the back of his mind until he told it to shut the fuck up please. He was trying to sleep.
Jim sighed in utter contentment as Spock slid into the bed behind him, surrounding him with his spicy smelling warmth. Jim smiled and turned over.
When Jim’s eyes met Spock’s, he couldn’t breathe. Jim couldn’t decipher what he was seeing, though he was sure he’d be able to if he was fully coherent. His eyes flicked down to Spock’s mouth, and he wondered if Spock would taste as spicy as he smelt.
Oh boy.
Before Jim could think about that any longer, his eyelids started to droop. He tucked his head into Spock’s neck, curled his arms around Spock's body, and inhaled deeply.
“Thanks, Spock.” And with that, Jim promptly fell asleep.
If he hadn’t, he might have caught what Spock whispered next.
“Anything for you, Jim.”
Part 5