Jim's Left Knee:
The wayward captain could not be found, either by ship locator, by comm., or by grudgingly recruited searchers.
However, he would be found by Spock, even if the half-Vulcan (apparently) had to search personally. The man always disappeared when there was paperwork to be done. This time Spock would not allow the captain to slink away, leaving him to do the tedious task, and so put all of his considerable skills into locating his superior officer.
The Enterprise was a large ship with many decks and corridors, but there wasn't a ship in all of Starfleet big enough to hide someone Spock wanted to find. He had Captain Kirk within 32.8 minutes.
He was in Engineering, of course, no doubt being abetted by Montgomery Scott in his duty shirking, if the Scottsman's sidling exit, as though he hoped that moving sideways would keep him invisible to Spock's notice, was anything by which to judge. Spock let him go, but filed away the lieutenant's complicity with the captain for future reference.
Instead of reprimanding the engineer, he homed in on his quarry. Kirk lay on a low wheeled cart with a table-like top slid beneath the engine of a damaged shuttle. The once shiny silver surface of the cart was marred by dents and caked filth. His own fastidious nature recoiled, but Spock thought it somehow fitting that the captain would be comfortable here.
"Captain, this vehicle hardly requires your ministrations. It is scheduled for full repair in eight hours."
His voice was sudden, its smoothness discordant in the tinkering roughness of engineering. Under the shuttle, Kirk jumped.
"Shit. Fuck. Damn. You found me even faster this time."
The damaged cart shot out, the captain prone atop it.
"By the way, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Jim? It's really very rude of you to expressly defy my orders. Maybe even insubordination. I'll need to look into that."
If Jim thought that he was going to distract Spock from his mission with idle chatter and an empty threat, he was very much mistaken.
"If indeed, you ever 'looked into' regulations, you would find yourself in violation of them at least 33.33% of your time. Furthermore-"
But then he looked down and the entire discourse on proper deportment for Starship captains he had prepared for the occasion fled from Spock's mind.
Jim wore his black regulation trousers, but cut short, to three inches above the knee. With his knees exposed to the air, Spock could see the mechanical fluids that had run from the shuttle, filling in the pale skin's cracks, painting them in spider webs of soot. He could see the shape of their bones, their protruding nature, the strangely endearing way they curved together. But foremost, he saw the red rivulets that flowed down the left one, pooling into odd shapes on the metal below.
"Captain, you are injured."
The prone man looked up at him. Had that anxious voice actually issued from Spock's mouth?
The First Officer was a military man, who had seen death and injury, and had even witnessed Kirk wounded on many occasions. It was strange that the sight of his blood would disquiet him so (not alarm, not terrify –he told himself he was still a Vulcan after all). Perhaps it was the unexpected nature of the seeing. Yes, that was it; nothing at all to do with the painful palpitation of his heart in realizing that danger really was everywhere in their lives. And that the captain was so very fragile.
Jim inspected himself with disaffected curiosity. He was forever being wounded. The human's frequent incurrence of injury, coupled with his hatred of being worried over, fostered a distressing disregard to his person.
"Huh. I guess I am. Didn't even feel that slice, it's a pretty big one though." He winced. "Now that you mention it, it stings like a bitch."
Having gone to the cabinet on the far side of the room to retrieve emergency supplies, Spock's superhuman hearing only registered the words vaguely. Long green fingers sorted through the jumbled med kit with precision, finally resting upon gauze and a bandage. Disinfectant followed. Gathering the items, he returned to Jim.
Kirk eyed him suspiciously.
"Why do I feel like you have a hypo hidden somewhere?"
Spock knelt by his side, handing him the medical gear.
"Hold this. Because you are innately wary of the positive regard of others. Disinfectant."
He doused the cut, ignoring Jim's hiss and, being careful to avoid skin to skin contact, efficiently bandaged it.
Jim flexed experimentally. Signs of undue stress did not appear on his face, in fact, a grin bloomed instead; an inner tightness Spock hadn't been aware of loosened at the sight. "Is there anything you aren't good at? Bones couldn't've done better." As though realizing the treachery against Dr. McCoy he'd just uttered, Kirk whipped his head about, seeming to search for the man.
Spock felt inordinately pleased. He didn't think he would tell the doctor about the captain's comment, but it would serve as a touchstone inside him when he bore McCoy's insults.
He cleared his throat, a nervous habit from childhood.
"However, he is, regrettably, the best the Enterprise has to offer and, as I do not relish being subjected to another of his specious speeches, I will take you to Medical Bay for full treatment."
The light in Jim's eyes suggested he was going to argue, but with a resigned sigh, he let himself be taken to Sickbay instead, leaning heavily on Spock's shoulder the whole way.
He even did his paperwork when Spock brought it into his personal sick bed (of course the captain would have an allergic reaction to the motor fluids), though Spock believed this was because he stood over Jim the whole time watching his every move for signs of escape.
Jim let him think that; however, he knew it was because Spock had admitted to regarding him positively.
I really wanted to do a series of loosely connected slash-tastic short stories and scenes. These will all be of varying lengths (this one's pretty long) and will get progressively sexier/more intimate as we go.
Thank you very much for reading, and I would really love to hear from you. Any feedback you have would be great :)