Spock? We're Not on Vulcan Anymore.

It wasn't Delta Vega, but Kirk thought that it served almost the same purpose.

The purpose was to prove a point and the point was... these planets were damn cold.

Not that it helped Kirk out much right now, when he was hurriedly zipping his coat up as far as it could go.

"Any brilliant ideas?" he asked, looking sideways at Spock.

"None that are particularly illuminating," Spock replied, his gaze analysing the landscape around them.

"Great," Kirk muttered. He looked at his PADD. "What's the name of this place? Benton VII or something?"

"Betatin VII. Class M, classified as potentially harmless," Spock interrupted.

"Yeah. What the hell does 'potentially harmless' mean, anyway?" Kirk said, stashing his PADD.

"Most likely, the Federation found species that were peaceful unless otherwise provoked. Or it could simply mean that there is very little data on the life forms on this planet."

"Great." He shoved his already cold fingers into his gloves and stamped his feet impatiently. "Aren't you cold?" he asked, noticing that his first officer had not yet zipped his coat.

Spock glanced down at himself. "No." Nonetheless, he zipped up his coat, seeming distracted by the snow and mountains surrounding them as he took the gloves from the pocket.

Kirk sighed. "Did you not notice? Because it's, you know, cold out here."

"I was more consumed with the idea of our escape," Spock said, returning his gaze to the landscape even though there was nothing to see except blankets of snow.

"Do you feel the cold?" Kirk asked dryly. If Spock said no, Kirk was going to hate him forever. If they had to turn into Popsicles, they were turning into Popsicles together, damn it.

"I can ignore certain elements if I choose to." Kirk was about to complain when Spock continued. "The cold, however, only... partially falls under that category. After time, I will not be able to efficiently block out the temperature. Which is... inconvenient."

Kirk rubbed his hands together. "Yeah, well, now you know how I felt when you marooned me on Delta Vega."

Spock looked at him. "You were illegally aboard the ship and interfering with protocol. It was the logical choice."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "We'll see how logical you are when you're hallucinating from hypothermia," he said sarcastically, striding ahead. "Come on. Let's see if we can find shelter until the communicators pick up."

"The storm is interfering with our signals. It may be up to eight hours before the snowstorm diminishes enough that the Enterprise will be able to lock onto us again," Spock said, following him slowly.

"Yeah, well, we knew what we were beaming into. Sort of," Kirk muttered. "Scotty said he couldn't guarantee what the weather was like besides 'aye, Captain, 'tis snowing down there'," he said, throwing an embellished Scottish accent onto the words. "This is a bit more than 'it's snowing'."

"His calculations were correct. It is snowing."

"It's not snowing; this is a white-out! We can't even see past fifty feet in front of our noses! I hope this place is harmless," Kirk muttered, drawing in on himself for warmth. "Damn, what I wouldn't give for a hot chocolate right now."

Spock raised an eyebrow briefly but didn't say anything.

They trekked on in silence for awhile. Kirk was already starting to shiver as an immediate reaction to the cold. It wasn't like he hadn't been in snowstorms before, but this was absurd. The wind was whipping against his face, snow pelting his cheeks and clinging to his eyelashes. He wished that they were walking with the wind, not against it, but that seemed to defeat the point. Although, they could have been walking in circles for all Kirk knew. It wasn't like they could see anything.

"Do you have any idea if we're making any progress?" Kirk said, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

"It would seem that we are heading in a north-northeast path. There should be suitable shelter up ahead, a series of caves, approximately seven kilometres ahead of us."

"I hope you're right," Kirk muttered, shivering hard. "Can't feel my fingers."

"Interesting, as the insulated gloves should be preventing the numbing effect of the cold."

"Don't sound so cheerful."

"Cheer is a human emotion; I am merely stating the facts."

Kirk sighed thinly, trying to keep the cold out of his throat. His lips were numb, even if his fingers weren't or weren't supposed to be. He couldn't feel the exposed bit of his face at all and, really, even if the hot chocolate was out of the question, he would have settled with black coffee or even a mug of green tea. Or just hot water. Something to unfreeze his freezing body.

It took a long while, but they finally managed to stumble their way into the caves.

The storm had gotten worse, they could barely walk against the wind, and the snow was so deep that Kirk had ended up flat on his arse from a hidden patch of ice more than once. Spock had never said a word, just gripped Kirk's forearm and helped him back to his feet as Kirk spluttered and swore.

"We need a fire!" he gasped, pressing himself into the furthest corner of the cave.

It was a small cave, barely twenty feet back and perhaps seven feet wide, and it had taken all of thirty seconds to check the cave for any hazardous life-form. It was hardly a surprise, but Kirk was grateful. He curled into a small ball, drawing his knees to his chest.

"There would seem to be no available timber for such purposes," Spock replied, stopping close to Kirk. He shoved the hood of the parka off, his dark bangs falling in a messy disarray back across his forehead. "However, there should be acceptable materials in the survival kit."

Kirk stiffened. He wanted to repeat survival kit like a question, but that would be a giveaway. Even if his hesitance to answer the question wasn't.

Spock read the silence. "You neglected to bring the survival kit."

"I survive fine without it," Kirk retorted before a shiver shook his body. "I didn't think it was this cold here."

"Surface temperatures read that-"

"I made a mistake, okay!" Kirk retorted, curling up tightly.

Spock's eyebrows flicked up, as per his usual response, although he didn't say anything. His disapproval oozed off of him in waves, but he didn't say anything. He just stood stoically and fiddled with his communicator, his eyes intent on the device in front of him.

This was going to be a long, unpleasant camp-out.

Because I have to write a hypothermia fic for everyone fandom that I love, alright? I'm sure this has been done before, but I couldn't resist. I thought it originally wasn't going to work with me, but I think it might just. This is set after Into Darkness, for those who are wondering.

I do not own Star Trek. Obviously, the title is inspired by a Wizard of Oz quote, and I do not own that, either. Thank you.