The Cold – by TheProblematique
His hands looked… blue.
It was a frightening blue, a colour Jim wasn't used to seeing on Spock: a sickly, human-vein kind of blue that made Jim nervous. And he knew every possible shade of green that could colour Spock's skin (although he didn't know why), but blue had never been one of them. Until now.
They hadn't spoken since establishing there was no leaving the cave. It was a pretty small space anyway, a rough cylinder about ten feet across with a high ceiling they couldn't reach, the dull light coming through a few cracks in the solid ice blocking their only way out.
Escaping the rogue Klingon pirates had been no easy feat, but they'd done it, only to get trapped in this cavern after a snow-slide, with no food and barely any clothes other than the boots, black pants and dirty, grey shirt they'd been given in the prison. Jim hadn't eaten in three days, a new record for him, and Spock had been given a strange, unknown poison that severely weakened him so he could be contained in his cell. Fortunately it had been slow to affect his metabolism and he'd been able to break them out following Jim's plan, unfortunately it had now, finally, taken hold.
The only hope they had was that the Enterprise, already searching for them for sure, flew close enough to this location that the weak tracker Jim had smuggled out of the stronghold picked up their signal.
So basically, they had to wait.
"Hey." Jim said hesitantly, shifting slightly closer to his first officer so they were about three feet apart. "Your…" Why couldn't he simply say 'hands'? For some reason, the word made him uncomfortable. Which was just stupid. "Look." he said instead, pointing to the obvious problem.
Spock's gaze flickered to Jim's hand for a moment, so fast Jim wouldn't have caught it unless he was observing Spock very carefully (which he was). It was an odd thing to do since Jim was pointing to Spock's, and anyway his hands weren't all that interesting, although by now they were also blue, albeit a lighter shade than his half-Vulcan's.
But his first officer didn't answer, instead he looked at the frozen floor between them. The glacial blue-white light threw Spock's features into sharp relief, all angles and contrasts, his eyelashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. The dirt streaking his face (as it must be Jim's) destroyed the half-Vulcan's usual neat, poised appearance, and made him look more… feral.
And Jim found himself thinking Spock was dangerously beautiful.
The thought was so strange Jim's conscious barely registered it before he shook himself and pushed the weird feeling to the back of his mind. It wasn't just Spock's hands (although they were clearly the worst off) that were turning blue: the tips of his ears and nose had long left green, bypassed yellow and were going for cerulean too.
"Spock, your hands." Jim said finally.
"I am well." Spock stated flatly, in a tone which, had it been allowed to portray emotion, would have been angry. Very angry.
Jim had no idea what he'd done this time to make his first officer hate him. Their working relationship wasn't exactly the most… stable, but it had been… evolving. At least Jim had thought so.
It started with them either agreeing perfectly about something or having completely opposite opinions. There was never a middle, calm zone. They worked well together but there was no feeling, no real trust. Well, that wasn't accurate; there was no mutual feeling, no mutual trust. Jim liked Spock. Jim trusted Spock. But Jim had no idea what Spock thought of him, and it made their interactions very one-sided, with Jim either laughing along or yelling, and Spock answering in the same tone on either occasion.
Yet, over time, Jim got much better at noticing what Spock hid from him, and although it was a slow learning process, he liked taking the time to dissect the half-Vulcan's expressions (or lack of). Jim really liked Spock.
"You look terrible, actually."
"Uh, you're not well. At all."
Jim shifted a little closer to Spock, moving slowly, like a hunter approaching a wounded animal that might lash out at any moment. But this was for Spock's benefit, not Jim's, since the Captain wasn't in the least bit afraid of his first officer.
"And your hands are-" he tried again.
"I request that you stop looking at my hands, Captain."
Jim flinched, but he understood. Of course Spock didn't want him to think he was weak or vulnerable. Spock just didn't know what Jim knew: that Spock was invincible in Jim's eyes.
Jim wished his body heat might provide some physical comfort since he wasn't that cold, but even without his developing Spock-sense, he would have been able to guess that was a terrible idea. The problem was that Spock's regular body temperature was much higher than Jim's, but the poison had slowed his heart-rate (Jim knew this because he'd been staring at the pulse in Spock's neck the past silent hour). This meant his current body temperature was dropping fast, and his metabolism was unused to operating on such cold parameters, which was likely causing the blue-ness, and would eventually trigger a massive 'Red alert: System failure'.
"Spock, listen, I'm just concerned for your health, okay? You know this is very dangerous for you, and it would be… it would be illogical not to acknowledge it."
But Spock was suddenly rocked by an unmistakeable shiver, a powerful spasm which slammed his back against the ice wall and made his previously blank face suddenly flinch in pain.
Jim reacted so quickly it was instinct, and no thought went into the gesture: he flew to his first officer's side and put his arms around him.
"It's okay. They'll find us, it's okay. I'm here, this will all be over soon…" He kept up the stream of comforting, senseless words for a few minutes, until Spock seemed to come back to himself. For about an instant Jim didn't pull back even though he knew he should have, and that instant cost him (cost him more than he thought at the time), but he was secretly hoping Spock might see reason and understand why Jim should stay by his side and provide heat.
That… that went to all the wrong places in his body, that did.
Thankfully, his first officer was always there to ground him. Literally.
Jim had already half-expected (or dreaded) Spock's reaction, but that didn't help, nor make it hurt any less. He was thrown flat on his back against the hard, cold ice floor. The breath flew out of his lungs, and his head felt like someone had banged it open with a rock. Which was… kind of what had happened.
Spock had his hand on Jim's throat, holding him so Jim couldn't move, but he found that he could breathe, and a look of intense… fury… was…?
Was it really anger, roaring in Spock's eyes like fire melting the ice around Jim's body…?
And then the moment of doubt passed and yes, it was most definitely fury, and Jim was afraid, also for a moment, afraid of the electric thrill that went through him while Spock was so close, too close to him… And then his half-Vulcan spoke, and the fear was gone along with the other unnamed emotion.
"Captain." The word was strained and tense, and it was like a plea Jim wanted to respond to, but couldn't. "Please refrain from engaging in physical contact with me."
If Jim could have blushed, he would have. As it was, he wasn't a fifteen-year-old girl, dammit, and he could barely feel the tips of his fingers and toes, anyway.
Spock let him go, fell back like a man exhausted, and moved as far from Jim as the small space would let him.
"Spock, I'm cold." Jim grunted, sitting upright again and rubbing the back of his neck. At least he didn't have an open cut. "Me, the human who hasn't been poisoned." Jim knew he was being stubborn, but Spock was being downright block-headed, so Jim was going to persist until Spock saw reason.
"Listen…" well, wasn't this nice and awkward? Spock was looking at him with an expression so blank, betraying nothing, that Jim knew there was something to betray. "I know you don't like touching me." He blurted out finally.
At his comment Spock's eyes widened a little, and his eyebrows rose, also a fraction. "It's okay, you don't have to…" God, this was so embarrassing it wasn't even funny. "I mean, I'm okay with that…" What? Was he? "Uh, I mean I don't mind... that you don't…" Lie, lie, lie! His body sang. Jim ignored it.
But it was true, he had noticed Spock didn't mind Uhura touching him that much, even after they'd broken up, or Chekov when he accidentally hugged the Vulcan that one time (although Spock had sort of stood there, stock still, patiently waiting for the young boy to realise what he'd done)… but if Jim so much as moved anywhere near his personal space, Spock's discomfort was painfully obvious, at least to his observant captain.
"Captain…" Spock began.
Jim tried humour. It had gotten him out of some pretty bad scrapes in the past, and he knew Spock was susceptible to it because he'd caught his First laughing with his eyes a couple of times. Not always with Jim, he knew, sometimes at, but it was endearing all the same.
The cold was freezing his brain.
"Look, Commander." Take that you overly-precise, decorum-obsessed, protocol-fanatic, rank-observing half-Vulcan! "I'd rather we can't bear to look at each other ever again because of the image of our entangled bodies trying to keep warm…" and somehow, that was as far as he got. The funny was there somewhere at the end of that sentence, Jim knew, but he managed to forget the punchline. Because… whoa.
Oh, this was so wrong.
"Enough." Jim shook his head vigorously side to side like a dog, ice and water flying everywhere, though unfortunately no wrong, dirty thoughts followed suit. He realised now that his hair and clothes were plastered uncomfortably to his body in a mixture of cold sweat and half-melted snow. "This is getting ridiculous. Give me your hands." He said firmly.
This time, the reaction was unmistakeable: Spock looked at him in utter horror.
"Come on." Jim insisted, completely oblivious to what he was asking of his science officer. "I know about Vulcan physiology, okay?" he added in a more soothing tone. "I studied xenoanatomy just like you did." Spock blinked, and suddenly his face was flushed an unmistakeable green. While in humans turning green couldn't be said to improve one's features, it looked rather good on the half-Vulcan. Jim shifted, once again uncomfortable, but dared to move a little closer to Spock. "I know a lot of important stuff is connected in there, and we can't have you dying because you were too stubborn." Which was just as ridiculous as it sounded.
The eyebrows went up again, face carefully composed and expressionless. "You are continuously referring to my impending death, Captain, as though-"
Jim was tired of being called that. "Really, Spock? Captain? Even now?" He gestured to the small space, the quiet, glacial air.
"Jim." Spock amended. "You are-" But Spock stopped speaking, a look of mild surprise ghosting over his features before, once again, he started shivering uncontrollably.
Jim scrambled up and practically threw himself over his friend, as though he could shield him from the harm in the world.
"Spock!" He shouted. "It's okay! Let me help you, you'll be fine, I promise, okay? Please, Spock, come on…" The tremors were already receding, and the instant Spock seemed to regain control, Jim let go and moved away. But he didn't move far, he stayed right next to Spock and as close as he could without touching him.
It was a strangely tempting idea. Touching Spock.
"Captain, I will be well…"
"Shut up Spock."
"While your concern for my life is a matter of emotional significance, when applied to our current predicament it is irrelevant, and I do not see why you-"
"Okay that's it! I'm done with your bullshit, you hear me?"
And Jim grabbed a wrist that belonged to a person three times stronger than him.
Not a moment that would land among the Top Ten Best Decisions of My Life.
"Let go of me." Spock said, his voice dangerously sharp and biting. The fact that he'd chosen to say that, and not "I ask that you adhere to your promise to satisfy my previous demand and refrain from touching me" meant he was really, really pissed.
"Let go of my wrist else I shall be forced to ensure the action happens, with or without your participation." By the end of that sentence Spock's words had blended into a snarl, and Jim knew he was about to lose it. Around that time Jim decided Spock's life was much more important to him than his own, and he grabbed the other wrist.
But all Jim was feeling was how cold Spock's arms were, as cold as his own, which was a very, very bad sign.
"I won't let you die." He said passionately. "I… you…" He blinked furiously, because he wasn't a fifteen-year-old girl, dammit! "I will never… Spock, I…" but for once, the words eluded him. Jim knew he was holding a potential time-bomb, that it was very important he helped Spock calm down, but he just didn't know what to say. Couldn't think of anything to say, could only think of really irrational things to do, things he'd only found himself thinking in his sleep before, blurring dreams and nightmares.
He looked away from Spock's eyes, knowing it was a classic mistake but also knowing it was his last hope to regain some sense of… of anything, some sense, period.
And for the first time he was truly terrified.
In a sudden, abrupt syllable, Spock seemed to come back. He still looked tense, and his emotions were much more visible than usual, but at least his eyes weren't doing that smouldering thing which was so distracting.
Jim smiled, an exhausted smile of relief and happiness and other things he hadn't really meant to inject into the expression yet made their way in there anyway. However, the smile made Spock tense again, and the now visible strain in his eyes become even more pronounced, so Jim stopped quickly.
"I… will allow you to protect my hands from these undesirable temperatures in order to ensure I receive no grievous bodily harm."
"Jim, did you just say 'gasp'?"
"Yes I did. Thanks so much, Spock. Means the world to me, it does."
The eyebrows went up once more, but tentatively, as though Spock was asking for forgiveness.
"And you'd just let me save your life? I mean wow, dude."
"Was that perhaps an attempt at irony?"
"I'm totally honoured. What am I saying, I'm thrilled! Delighted! Amazed…!"
"All right Jim, I am certain I have sufficiently understood the message you are attempting to convey through subtle human expression."
Jim raised his eyebrows, wishing he could do just one, like Spock did.
"I believe the correct colloquialism is: 'I get your point'?" Spock added, his lips twitching at the corners, practically a gleeful laugh by Vulcan standards.
"Damn right it is."
In the amused, companionable silence that followed this statement Jim realised he he still held the other man's wrists, and that while they had been speaking in a friendly manner they had gotten closer and closer until Spock's breath was blowing gently in his face. And it tasted really nice, too. He cleared his throat and ignored the feelings causing his heart to beat frantically fast, and gently turned one of Spock's hands palm up.
"Can you feel your fingers?" Jim asked quietly, and for some reason he felt like he'd asked something filthy, something obscene.
"Faintly." Spock answered just as quietly, looking at his and Jim's hands with a kind of incredulous intensity, and though he couldn't believe what was about to happen.
Well, come on Kirk, Jim thought to himself. You got yourself into this, you follow through now. It doesn't matter that you're totally nervous and jittery for no reason at all. It doesn't matter that in some weird sense, holding Spock's hand feels… intimate in ways you totally don't want to think about. It doesn't matter that he's looking at you with those eyes under those eyebrows next to those ears…
It doesn't matter.
And Jim took Spock's right hand in both of his own, rubbing it gently for more heat, and breathing warm air over them.
He really hadn't expected Spock's reaction to this: the half-Vulcan's already unusually expressive eyes widened and he gasped, then wrenched his hand away as though he'd been burned.
But Spock stood up and backed away from Jim until his back hit the furthest wall.
They looked at each other, breathing hard, for a very long moment.
Jim could still feel the numb tingles in his hand, like tiny sparks, and the ghost touch of cold yet soft fingers. It occurred to him only now, as per his usual I-wonder-if-that-was-a-good-idea-oh-well-too-late mentality, that Spock might have had a legitimate reason for not wanting Jim to touch his hands.
But then the half-Vulcan seemed to sag against the wall, and slowly walked back to where Jim still sat on the floor.
"Forgive my reaction, Captain." Back to rank-pulling, eh? "You may… resume."
Spock wasn't doing a very good job of concealing his expressions. Like before, his face was unusually open, though tense, and it made him seem a little more human. Right now, he looked like he was sacrificing himself for some unnamed, greater cause. Like touching Jim was a torture session he had to endure.
Jim knew he had no real reason to feel so offended and hurt, but he couldn't help it. So he was a little rougher in grabbing Spock's hands, both of them.
There was a helpless sort of whimper from his first officer, a sound that made Jim look up abruptly to try and decipher his First's expression.
Once again, Spock's eyes told him… told him…
Jim was confused.
Spock's eyes were burning, burning with the force of a supernova against Jim's skin, and Jim wanted more, much more, fire and heat and he was cold, he wanted Spock, but then…
The expression changed again, and Spock looked a little more like he had before Jim had touched him; reserved and Vulcan and blank, except somehow his pupils had dilated to twice their size, and he was… panting slightly.
Jim was left wondering whether he'd imagined it in the first place, and fighting the rising fog of lust threatening to make him do something really stupid. Because the panting thing…? Yeah, that. It was driving him insane.
He didn't say anything, instead he kept rubbing his palms against Spock's and there was a weird warmth spreading up his arms, a crackling sort of warmth that was a little more than pleasant. And didn't help at all with his self-control.
The blue tinge in Spock's hands was fading, slowly replaced by the usual light green, but Jim found he couldn't let go.
"I… thank you, Jim." Spock said, his breath catching. "That is sufficient."
"It's not just your hands that are cold." Jim pointed out, feeling just a little desperate. He didn't want to let go. The fact that he was really feeling cold himself didn't do anything for his desire to hold Spock, or let Spock hold him, or any other sappy activities which involved contact between them and body heat.
"Nevertheless they are the most affected corporal area and I can feel my internal circulation is working efficiently once again. I thank you, Jim." Spock repeated, but didn't try and move away or even take his hands back.
"Spock…" Jim threw caution to the wind, the rising need in his… chest… threatening to overcome him. "Spock, please…" he moaned (What? He grunted! And manly, at that! He didn't moan, James T. Kirk did not moan!), moving closer to his first officer, who was starting to feel a little warmer than normal by human standards, though still too cool by Vulcan.
"I'm cold now. Please?" And he plastered his best puppy-dog look over his face, almost pouting but not quite, as pouting wasn't manly or dignified, unless you were Chekov.
Immediately Spock's entire form shifted. Before he'd been leaning toward Jim, but now he sat back and the cold air cleared Jim's head enough that he wondered why he hadn't noticed this before. Maybe because he'd been leaning forward too, as though Spock was the flame and Jim the moth, as though Jim was about to fly to his First no matter the danger. And it seemed as though Spock had been equally engrossed in him, as though Jim was gravity and Spock was mass, as though he was about to fall to his Captain no matter the danger.
"Jim." Jim was started out of his poetic ramblings (not something that happened very often), and realised Spock was looking at him without a hint of any of his earlier expressions in his eyes, and spoke evenly, his face blank once again. "Jim, if I was allowed to express human emotion I might tell you I am disappointed you did not inform me of your condition earlier, knowing that I could alleviate your pain." Jim found that he missed the hitch in his first officer's breath, and the panting from before, especially.
"Yeah, well, I was worried about you, wasn't I?"
"Were you?" The green blush really shouldn't be so attractive.
"Nevertheless, I do not wish for you to suffer any pain."
"It's not pain, Spock. Just cold. You know what? If it's weird for you, then I won't-"
"That is a matter of null importance now. If physical contact is what you need to achieve maximum relief…" So wrong, so wrong, Jim! "… from pain, that is what I will provide."
"Thanks. But it's not pain, really."
"Well… thanks, Spock."
After about a minute of silence (and eleven seconds):
"Jim, there is no necessity for you to wait. I have already stated you may approach me."
They were already on their knees in front of each other, holding both hands. Jim simply shifted even closer, so their thighs brushed slightly (so wrong! And yet…) their chests rested against one another, and, hands still intertwined, he let his head nuzzle in the hollow at Spock's neck.
It was… bliss.
For a few moments, the tension, the desire, were halted, and Jim could revel in the feel and smell and taste of Spock being all around him. He could also hear Spock's pulse begin to quicken, not nearly as fast as it usually was but at least faster. There was a safety in the embrace, a feeling of being at peace, but Jim felt a fierce protectiveness too. All the conflicting yet somehow calm emotions managed to meld into a sweet relief suspiciously comparable to finally letting himself do something he'd been waiting to do for a long time, and Jim hadn't known he'd been waiting to be in Spock's arms, and have Spock in his.
Of course, Captain Kirk being Captain Kirk, this beautiful time lasted about ten seconds.
Then he realised his lips were about a hair's breadth away from Spock's throat, the half-Vulcan's body was pressed up against him and those sinewy muscles felt really nice and strong and… oh shit, oh no, not now…
"Jim, you may let go of my hands now so I can extend our surface of contact." He could have been saying "The weather is nice, I am not adverse to noticing".
Jim didn't answer, simply complied and put his arms around Spock just as his First did the same. It started innocently enough, with a cautious touch. Timid. Unsure. Tentative.
But slowly, very slowly at first, Jim felt Spock's grip tighten, and he dared to exhale and press himself even closer, and he tried to tell himself he'd imagined Spock's little growl of pleasure, a sound so sexy it should damn be illegal, tried to tell himself he hadn't actually responded in kind…
Soon they clutched each other almost too tightly, and Spock's hair was brushing Jim's cheek, his nose the bottom of Jim's jaw, his fingers curling around Jim's shirt back, so Jim let himself trail his fingers up the sides of Spock's chest, letting them dig into the hard, Vulcan muscle, breathing deeply in the scent of Spock and cold and moist and sweat, brushing his lips with a feather-light touch along Spock's clavicle, noting with maniacal delight how Spock's skin seemed to heat wherever Jim stroked it. But Jim was going to have a problem and it had been easier before because he was freezing cold but now he was getting warm… He had to be strong, not hard, dammit…
However, there was no stopping the heat from pooling down… and Jim spared a moment to think bitterly how it was ironic that the tip of his nose still felt numb with cold yet his blood could rush to fill other… places.
He tried to push Spock away, but Spock just clung tighter, digging his fingers into Jim's back and totally ruining everything.
"No." The word was a grunt spoken against Jim's shoulder.
"Let me go."
"Spock." Spock's refusal to cooperate was just making Jim painfully hotter, while he cursed his body at the same time for responding so readily to something he couldn't have. "Come on… Spock, please come on, let me… just… space… I need… space…"
Suddenly Spock went rigid as a board, and Jim braced himself for what he knew was coming.
This time, thankfully, he wasn't slammed against the floor so much as flung backwards, and he caught himself before actually reaching the furthest wall.
There was no time between that and the moment Jim realised what he was about to do as he got up and walked back to Spock, who was panting again and looking wretched.
Jim didn't stop until he caught Spock's hands and stood in front of him once more, and the strength seemed to drain out of his first officer, as if Jim had power over him.
This was just a little too much for Captain Kirk.
He felt his frustrations and confusions tear at his heart and mind and body, leaving him powerless to Spock, and Jim hated that, he wanted to be in control, and he suddenly wanted to make Spock pay for making Jim feel this way. So, slowly, he moved his fingers in a tantalising, sensual caress.
Spock hissed, and stared at Jim's fingers with unveiled intensity, as though he didn't want to miss a detail. As though Jim was doing something dirty and it was fascinating.
"Cease your movements please." Spock said rather breathlessly.
"Why?" Jim asked, his voice low and rough, letting his thumb brush Spock's palm again, and again, and again…
Every time his nail dug into the half-Vulcan's skin a small sound Spock couldn't conceal (though he tried, and that made it all the more entertaining) escaped his parted lips. It was a sound that was driving Jim insane, though Jim was having fun, a mean, sadistic sort of fun.
"Jim stop." A strange, rumbling cadence that had to be influenced by his Vulcan language made the words rough and commanding, more than begging.
"Oh, so now you want to stop."
Jim chuckled darkly, and moved even closer to Spock so he was whispering in his ear.
"You're three times stronger than me." And that shouldn't turn him on, but it did. Also, his lips 'accidentally' brushed the tip of Spock's ear and the Vulcan growl came again, but louder and better. "If you really wanted me to stop, you'd make me."
There was a challenge in there somewhere, and Spock seemed to respond to Jim's words. His eyes were dark and accusatory, and angry, and radiating heat in waves. Jim was suddenly pushed back and pinned to the floor, his hands over his head but still interlocked with Spock's fingers, the sensation in them spiking and turning erotic.
"You would have benefited from paying more attention in class, Captain Kirk." Spock said, the ghost of a smile flowing over his face. "You would have learnt some interesting facts about Vulcan anatomy that otherwise escaped you."
The weight of Spock on top of him was blissfully heavy, and the feel of muscles and entangled legs and the length of Spock's arousal grinding against his was too good for Jim, who laughed out loud and wriggled his fingers.
"Hands?" Jim asked, grinning evilly.
"Vulcan hands, yes."
"You mean, like, if I were to… put your fingers in my mouth…" Jim's tone dropped to a seductive low "… that would be hot?"
"Undoubtedly." Spock said, eyes unfocused.
Jim licked his lips to get the attention back on himself, and then smirked at the reaction that got as Spock froze, staring at them, absorbed. "Then let me." He said pointedly.
"I believe this is a ploy in order to arrange I let you go."
It was Spock's turn to whisper in Jim's ear, like a secret, like a dark, precious secret.
"I will never let you go."
Jim closed his eyes and smiled a dazzling, happy smile that blinded Spock for a moment, and when Jim opened them he felt caught by the look on Spock's face, a look that went beyond wonder and awe.
It was at that moment that the sound of crunching boots against snow alerted them, and neither had time to move before the ceiling exploded over them and chunks of ice rained down, hitting Spock's back loudly. Jim yelled, wanting to flip Spock and protect him even though he knew it was stupid and useless.
"Keptan Kurk! Commender Spock!" A loud, familiar magnified voice with a very thick Russian accent jarred their ears. "This is the rescue team of ze USS Enterprise, remain vere you are! Uhura I told you ve should haf gone down, I want too see-" and abruptly the transmission was cut.
Six blue-clad figures landed all around them, and all Jim could do was drill into Spock's eyes, trying to search his first officer's expression for signs of pain or distress. But Spock looked right back, and seemed to be mimicking the sentiment.
"Jim!" Sulu shouted, removing his helmet. "Spock! Spock? Jim?"
Jim tore his gaze from the half-Vulcan and searched for Sulu, although he was still on the ground and the sight of Spock towering over him, being the horizon, being everywhere, everything, was kind of overwhelming in the really good way. Or bad, depending on what your views were on being seen with a painfully strong hard-on while pinned to the floor by your first officer.
"Jim!" This time, it was Dr McCoy, who pushed Sulu aside and removed his own helmet, kicking it aside like so much discarded trash. The med-kit was out before Jim could say "Bones, I'm fine." And he and Spock got one hypo each. "Ow, Bones." Jim grunted. Spock said nothing, merely kept his eyes on Jim, and didn't move, and stayed on top of him, which wasn't helping with any of Jim's problems. Dammn Vulcan power to control bodily functions.
"Does Chekov have their coordinates? We need to get Spock out of this cold!" McCoy shouted at Sulu, who was still staring at his Captain lying on the floor under his immobile, tense first officer.
"What? Uh, yeah, hang on." Sulu put his helmet back on and Jim heard him speak, albeit more muffled. "Chekov, get us out of here!"
Chekov's reply was inaudible, but a moment later Jim felt the telltale tingle of dematerialisation. The world went black, and then he was on the landing platform of the teleporter room, with Spock still on top of him.
"Keptan! Oh…" Chekov had abandoned his station and was staring at them with slack-jawed amazement. In fact, most of the techs were, as well as Scotty, who muttered a bewildered "blimey".
Finally Spock stood up swiftly and fluidly, as though he hadn't been suffering from some pretty severe hypothermia (or whatever the Vulcan equivalent was, Jim thought) ten minutes ago.
"Are you injured, Captain?" He asked intensely, helping Jim up by taking his hand. To Jim's wonderful relief Spock's hand was very warm, which had to mean his first officer's heartbeat was back to Vulcan normal.
"I'm fine, are you okay?"
"Not that this isn't disturbingly touching, guys, really, but I need to get you to my Sickbay! Now move!" McCoy shoved them both into stretchers and his team wheeled them away, but not before Jim caught Uhura staring at them with wide eyes. Chekov immediately followed after their party, trailing at a safe distance from Bones, who was busy ordering everyone around and shouting himself hoarse. Sulu seemed torn between his duties and his loyalty, so Jim yelled: "Sulu, you have the conn!" Before his stretcher turned the corner and he was out of earshot.
"Turns out that poison the bastards gave you was specifically targeted to Vulcans. A combination of human drugs that slow the heart-rate: digoxin, beta-blockers and antiarrhythmic medicine. No wonder you reacted so badly to it."
"Given that a Vulcan's average heart-rate is substantially faster than a human's, it is clear that the subsequent drop in blood-pressure from a weakened heart would be the cause of the circulatory damage I experienced, and the inability to regulate my body-temperature."
"Yeah, that's what I just said."
"Listen, Spock, I wanted to ask you something. Thing is… why didn't you…? I thought Vulcans could go into this healing trance… right? You might have been better equipped to deal with the cold that way, especially given your condition."
"I considered the possibility, Dr McCoy, but concluded that if left alone, the Captain would likely injure himself-"
"Jim is a big boy, Spock, he can take care of himself."
"Oh come on, spit it out!"
"I am going to assume you do not literally mean for me to-"
"I mean tell me why you didn't want to heal yourself properly like you should have!"
"This is useless. I'm outta here."
"Wait. Dr McCoy, I do not want you to leave with the erroneous impression of my intentions."
"Oh, so we have intentions now, do we?"
"I did not want Jim to become excessively concerned over my health, since he would have likely misinterpreted the trance as not being self-inflicted. Contrary to his own beliefs, he is not terribly familiar with Vulcan physiology and there existed the possibility that he did not know about a Vulcan's ability to-"
"That is bullshit, and you are lying."
"I am not."
"Yes you are!"
"I am not."
"Yes you…! God dammit!"
"You could have told him first, then gone into the trance. He would have taken care of you, you know. In a purely professional sense, of course, I mean… eugh… oh, why do I even bother. Yeah, Jim's good like that."
"I am already familiar with the Captain's courage and determination, also his ability to develop emotional attachments."
"… Right. So you could have done that. Jim wouldn't have minded being alone."
"… I did not want that to happen."
"Spock, be honest. I know you did it so Jim wasn't left to fend for himself, but why?"
"Do you realise you are contradicting yourself? If you know I did not use my ability to heal because it would involve leaving Jim alone, then I have already answered your question as to why I did not use that ability."
"But… that's it? No ulterior motive? No grand master plan? You just wanted to be there with Jim in every sense? Awake?"
"I suppose that is a correct enough approximation of my thoughts."
"By your facial expression you appear to be amused at my confession. Might I inquire as to the reason behind that sentiment?"
"Oh come on! Why won't you just admit it?"
"'Admit it'? You are laughing."
"Yes, I am, Spock. Just… just go check if he's awake, will you? Hang on, wait ten seconds so I can get as far from here as my legs can take me first, though, and then go."
"I do not understand your reasoning, therefore it is in all likelihood flawed or illogical, yet I find my desire to ascertain Jim's condition is stable strong enough to allow it."
"Right, great. See you."
The sound of frantically running footsteps made Jim grin, but he didn't open his eyes until he heard the softer, more measured pace come closer.
"You are awake." Spock said, his eyes betraying a hint of surprise.
"Yeah." Jim croaked.
"You heard my conversation with Dr McCoy?"
For some reason Spock seemed to be… was it possible…? Hesitating. He was just hovering at the doorway, as though conflicted or uncertain, and just mostly not going to Jim's side and kissing the daylights out of him like Jim wanted.
"Are you feeling recuperated?"
"No lingering symptoms from frostbite or hypothermia?"
"Your tests came back positively?"
This was beginning to feel like an interrogation.
"What about you, Spock?"
"I am obviously fully functional as First Officer, however your human physiology makes you more likely to suffer short or long-term effects-"
"You were poisoned."
"I am Vulcan."
"I don't see how those are mutually exclusive. And you're only half-Vulcan." When Jim gesticulated with his hand to emphasise 'half' Spock's eyes flickered to his fingers.
"They are not. I was attempting to make you realise why my metabolism is stronger, and so-"
"I do know that."
Spock nodded, looking away from Jim's hands and to the floor. "I see."
"I hope you do, Spock. I also hope that next time your life is in the line, you just swallow your stupid embarassment, tell me, and then let me hand-sex your pants off, instead of risking the health of the best first officer I could ask for."
There was a very tense silence after that.
It went on for quite an impressive amount of time, with Spock staring at Jim and Jim staring back, and neither of them moving even though they both really wanted to. The absence of sound continued bravely on while Jim wished he could kick himself, or maybe turn back time, or possibly just run away (unfortunately Spock was blocking his only exit).
It persisted so loudly that it began bending the barriers of the space-time continuum, until…
"Are you certain you are physically well enough to live up to that statement?"
"And you have ingested the sufficient quantity of nutritional foods?"
"You will not tire if you perform physical activities?"
"You are aware of my… feelings toward you?" And Jim knew how much it had cost Spock to say 'feelings', but he could barely speak because his heart felt like it was going to explode from gushy, mushy happiness.
"I… yeah. And you mine?"
"Perhaps you might clarify a few-"
"Just come here and let me show you."
Well, hi there :) First of all, if you're Klingon I'd like to apologise, because it's clichéd and boring to blame you for EVERYTHING, and I'm sorry, but you guys are just so mean-looking it was too easy!
Second, this is my first foray into Trek-fic. I am nervous, I am new, I am a fan who's only seen TOS and old-movies AFTER nuTrek (so I be LOSER) but what can I say? I am IN LOVE with this fandom and I hope to keep posting my stories here.
Third, I figured I didn't need to post a slash warning seeing as how the description is pretty obvious. If you think it isn't, feel that warning should be made more clear, etc, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll change that. Also, sorry if I offended anyone (although I have to say being offended by slash seems so... alien to me ;). Also, sorry if you read the entire thing (altough by line 4 it should be pretty clear where it was going) and only NOW see a slash warning. Lol.
And fourth and final... Kirk/Spock. Spirk. Kock (I can't even write that without laughing my head off). I ship, I love, I want for Xmas.
No wait! That was a lie, this is the fifth and final! Besides complaining about any of the stuff above, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeese pretty please with a chocolate-ice-cream covered Spock on top REVIEW? Thank you!
Wow, this author's note has turned out pretty long. Lol, okay I'm stopping now ;)