Spick Spock, Sick Spock
Spock rubbed his fingers against his temples in slow circular movements, trying to fend off the building headache beneath his skin. It was an illogical action but the pounding was distracting at best and actually painful at worst.
He braced his elbow against the table and placed his forehead against his palm, closing his eyes.
It was strange that he had a headache at all in the first place. Pain was certainly not unknown to him. He had spent too many years in the first officer's seat of a ship manned by perhaps the most irrational man in all of Starfleet to not have experienced pain. It was a common side-effect to having a Captain who did not believe in no-win scenarios. He could count ten significant injuries that he had sustained in the past three months: acid burns, broken arm, temporary blindness, the list went on and on.
So, why was a headache, of all things, rendering him incapacitated? It was illogical.
Spock removed his head from his hand and picked up his clipboard.
He was halfway through star mapping for the Captain and, while it was not necessary to finish at the exact date and time, Spock liked to have his duties performed ahead of time. While he doubted that any error would occur, by finishing tasks early, he would have time to fix any problem if they should arise. Efficiency was always the best policy.
He continued to make notes for another ten minutes before he was met with another irrefutable truth: his headache was compromising his work. At this rate, his likelihood of error would jump to six to ten, in favour of error.
Spock set down the pen with a quiet sigh.
The display read that it was just past 2300 hours. Mostly everyone, if not all, would already be sleeping at this time. The medical staff had been kept busy with an outbreak of illness, so they would be working around the clock. Kirk had dismissed him from the Bridge at 2147 hours, commenting that he was leaving a helmsmen with the conn so the rest of them could finish their pre-assigned duties and catch some shut-eye. They had been running on pure adrenalin for nearly five days now, chasing a cosmic storm. It wasn't particularly taxing, but the stress on the rest of the crew was taking effect. Several planets had been hit by the storm's aftershocks and it had been the Enterprise's duty to assist in repair. The cosmic storm had just fizzled away to nothing, but the crew had been pleased to hear that shore leave was within sight.
While shore leave was unappealing, Spock found that the moment where he could meditate, alone and without interruption, was an enticing thought. A Vulcan trance was far better than the trouble that Captain Kirk could get into on a shore leave planet.
Spock leaned back, pressing two fingers against his temples. It did not help the pain aspect.
There was a buzz at his door.
Spock raised his head, folding his arms on the desk. "Enter."
Uhura strode into the room, her face set into an unreadable mask that generally did not bode well for her mood. Spock was instantly wary, although it simply took a raised eyebrow to produce the explanation from her.
"Kirk just got orders from Starfleet. Remember Gemma VII?" she asked, unzipping her uniform boots and kicking them off.
Spock nodded once. "The neighbouring planetoid of Chartin IV, devoid of life. Class-N, rich in plutonium and precious jewels."
"Yeah. As it turns out," Uhura said, stretching out across Spock's bed and staring stonily at the ceiling, "the effects of the storm stretched to Gemma and it's effecting the production. Mining is top-priority."
Spock's eyebrows drew together. "The Enterprise is not equipped-"
"- for mining operations, I know," Uhura interrupted. "We're going to be acting as a cargo ship for the next three solar weeks."
Spock, if he were sharing the sentiment of four-hundred other people on board the Enterprise, would have groaned at the statement. Cargo shipments meant that shore leave was second-priority. While shore leave was neither peaceful nor relaxing for Spock, it meant that he would have had a week with limited fuss on time constraints and human idiosyncrasies.
As it were, he simply acknowledged the statement by watching Uhura press her arm over her eyes. "I know I'm the communications Lieutenant, but after so many signals on all those frequencies the past week..."
"It is our duty to assist planets of the Federation in need," Spock reminded.
Uhura gave him what Spock had ascertained to be a look of loathing. "I know that, Spock, don't quote Regulation."
Spock raised an eyebrow before pushing himself to his feet. His headache was still there and he felt strangely tired. The world seemed to rush headlong at him as he stood and there was a brief sensation of light-headedness for a moment. It passed almost as quickly as it had arrived, although Spock had three fingers splayed against the desk for support.
Spock looked at Uhura in inquiry.
"Are you all right?"
"I experienced a brief moment of light-headedness, but I feel fit now," Spock admitted. "It is probable that the temperature here is too warm for my body to compensate for."
"I meant to ask; it's like an oven in here. The nineties are tolerable, barely, but it's sweltering," Uhura muttered, swiping a stray strand of hair from her face.
"I adjusted the temperature to one-hundred and five degrees," Spock replied. "I was feeling cold earlier. The temperature change doesn't seem to have had much effect, however, and I can adjust it fittingly for you if you wish." His voice trailed off into a tone that spoke of a question.
Uhura sat up, looking at him closely. "Spock, are you sure you're alright? You look peaky."
Spock raised an eyebrow, looking towards the mirror. His complexion was minutely more pale than usual and there was a sheen of sweat beginning to form on his skin. Perhaps the room was slightly too warm for his body to compensate. Usually, he kept it at a comfortable ninety-three degrees. Despite his body telling him that he was too warm, he felt unusually cold.
It was regrettable about the shore leave, although the logic was sound. Still, Spock could have used the meditative trance to rebalance himself.
"I was entertaining the idea of rest when you visited," he said, striding to the thermostat and adjusting the temperature to accommodate Uhura. "My first priority is a sonic shower and then rest."
"Good. When was the last time you got some sleep?" Uhura asked, getting to her feet.
"Three point seven days ago," Spock replied automatically as Uhura wrapped her arms around him. He allowed himself to lean forward, letting her warmth encompass him.
"Spock," she voiced, her tone taking on a chastising tone.
"Sleep is unnecessary," he replied tonelessly.
"It is necessary every so often, Spock, and you know it. Don't fight what's logical." Spock melded his sigh into a simple exhale as Uhura dropped her arms, stepped away. "Have your shower and come to bed."
Spock raised an eyebrow again. The question, he was sure, was visible on his face: you are joining me?
"I figured I could keep you warm," Uhura replied easily, turning to walk back to the bed.
"Logical," Spock replied. "I will return in eight point three minutes."
As it turned out, when he returned to his room eight point three minutes later, he barely made it to the bed in his exhaustion. He had made a last minute decision to have a traditional shower rather than a sonic shower and the hot water had rendered his legs slow and his body heavy. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep soundly until morning.
The throbbing pain in his head did not go away. He did not sleep soundly until morning.
When he woke up again, it was three in the morning and his stomach was churning.
He removed Uhura's arm silently from where it was draped across his side, slowly shuffling onto his back. Pressing his own arm over his eyes and knitting his fingers into the hem of his shirt, he took a slow breath to re-establish that he was the only one in control over himself.
Be that as it may, he realised, it may very well be time to visit Doctor McCoy.
The doctor was going to be smug with himself for a least a month, Spock was sure.
I didn't intend for so much Spock/Uhura, but I didn't want to start this sick!fic like the other sick!fic I worked on. Never fear; Kirk/Spock interaction will ensue. Please don't let the Spock/Uhura turn you away if you don't like it.
I do not own Star Trek. Thank you.
P.S. I promise that, if you've been following me for other fandoms, I will get back to Sherlock. It's just that I'm working my way through seventy-some episodes of TOS of Trek and several movies and... well, there's only two series' of Sherlock. I don't mean to disappoint my Sherlock fans. Sherlock is still number one in my heart. :)