[TWBI] Heat Stroke
Title: Heat Stroke
Series: That Would Be Illogical
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG13
Length: 1,071
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: This is not the first illogical action I have ever participated in because of James Tiberius Kirk. I doubt it will be the last. Masterlist
Previous: Porch
"How did you not notice?" Dr. McCoy growls.
I feel myself blush green. My spine is straight and I wring my hands nervously behind my back. "I was… preoccupied."
He grimaces. "I don't need that image in my head."
I raise an eyebrow. "I gave you no image."
"No, but I sure as hell know what's you're implying."
I feel my flush deepen. "I made no implications."
He glares at me. "Look, you-"
"Bones!" Jim snaps from the biobed and attracts the irate doctor's attention. He is wearing only pajama bottoms (without underwear) and has a cold compress on his forehead and covering his chest. "Stop blaming him. It's not his fault. How was he supposed to know it was going to happen?"
"Because it's logical," he says and turns back to me. "Having sex with a Vulcan in a room programmed for a Vulcan's comfort zones is just asking for a heat stroke!"
I am grateful that it is Gamma shift, and therefore the sickbay is empty of others that are not sedated.
"I'm very distracting, Bones," he says, a smirk on the corner of his mouth.
The doctor rolls his eyes.
"And Spock got me here as quickly as he could when he realized something was wrong. And I mean, come on. This can't be the worst sex-related injury you've had to treat."
McCoy cringes. "No, it's not," he concedes begrudgingly.
"That's pretty much all you do after shore leave. Treat people for alien STDs and take weird objects out of their-"
"Alright!" he interrupts. "This was still idiotic. And preventable."
"Yeah," Jim says and sits up. The cold compress from his chest falls to his lap and he moves to the side table. "So we'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Right, Spock?"
I nod. "I will not allow it to occur a second time."
"See?" Jim says, smiling. "And he's very reliable about these things." He takes the cloth from his head and puts it onto of the other one before swinging his legs around and hopping off the biobed.
"Wait a damn minute," McCoy snaps and puts his hand on Jim's shoulder to keep him from leaving. "I did not discharge you."
He rolls his eyes. "I'm fine! I'm not hot or dizzy anymore. Take my temperature if you want, but I feel better so I'm leaving."
They both glare at each other for a moment before the doctor points to the bed.
Jim frowns, but sits on the bed without further opposition so that the display above the bed registers his life-signs.
"Alright," McCoy says after studying them a minute. "While your internal temperature is still a little high, it's not life-threatening anymore." When Jim jumps from the bed with a smile, the doctor points his finger at his bare chest. "But you're done for the night and don't even think about going anywhere near Spock's room. Go to your own quarters."
He nods and herds me out of sickbay, followed by McCoy's grumblings.
We only see three crewmen on our way back to the Jim's quarters. They do not give us much regard. Our newly-formed relationship is not well known except for a choice few; however, it is not unusual to see us walking the halls in such a state of dress after sparring together in the gym. Jim still has perspiration from his body's attempts to cool its self, aiding in the illusion.
When we arrive at the deck containing the officers' quarters, I slow down in front of the door to my quarters. "Perhaps I should allow you to rest," I suggest.
"Naw, come on," Jim says and grabs my upper arm, and I allow him to drag me to his own quarters. I stand in the doorway to his sleeping area as he collapses onto his bed. I shift my weight slightly and do not move closer.
He looks at me. "You okay?"
I raise an eyebrow. "I was not the one whose life was threatened."
"No, but you look tense." He motions me closer. "Let's go to sleep."
I hesitate, guilt gripping me. "I do not think touching you would be wise."
He rolls his eyes. "You're not going to make me sick."
"I was a contributing factor to your illness, and therefore-"
"Spock," he interrupts. His eyes are soft. "Bones was overreacting, okay? It wasn't you're fault. We just didn't consider how hot your room was."
I tilt my head. "I believe I should sleep in my own quarters tonight."
"Then I'm just going to follow you in there," he says in a way that reminds me of a stubborn child.
The corners of my mouth twitch down. "You are far too reckless concerning your own health."
He gives me an expectant look.
I hesitate again before approaching and sitting on the edge. After a moment, he wraps his arms around my chest and pulls me further onto the bed. He lays my back against his chest and I tense.
He kisses my temple and I get a clearer sense of his emotions: amusement and comfort. "Calm down, Spock. This isn't the first time we've slept in the same bed together. I never got sick before; this time should be no different."
"You did not suffer from a heat stroke the previous times."
"I'm fine. I promise." He nuzzles behind my ear.
I exhale heavily and turn in his embrace. I place an arm over his chest and rest my head on his shoulder. I place my palm over his heart. His heartbeat is much slower and his skin feels cool to the touch again. I relax against him, much of my apprehension dissipated.
I feel his chin on my forehead. "See? I'm fine. No harm done."
I shift slightly. "If you begin to feel ill, you will tell me. If you feel hot, you will remove me from your person." Neither are questions.
Warm air from a silent laugh is blown on my hair. "I will."
It does not take long before he asleep, his breath and the tempo of his heart growing slower. I consider retreating back to my room, but I doubt I would be able to depart the bed without his notice, and I should not leave him providing that he may grow ill once again. It is only logical that I stay. His comfortable embrace as little to do with it.
Next: Second
Series: That Would Be Illogical
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG13
Length: 1,071
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: This is not the first illogical action I have ever participated in because of James Tiberius Kirk. I doubt it will be the last. Masterlist
Previous: Porch
"How did you not notice?" Dr. McCoy growls.
I feel myself blush green. My spine is straight and I wring my hands nervously behind my back. "I was… preoccupied."
He grimaces. "I don't need that image in my head."
I raise an eyebrow. "I gave you no image."
"No, but I sure as hell know what's you're implying."
I feel my flush deepen. "I made no implications."
He glares at me. "Look, you-"
"Bones!" Jim snaps from the biobed and attracts the irate doctor's attention. He is wearing only pajama bottoms (without underwear) and has a cold compress on his forehead and covering his chest. "Stop blaming him. It's not his fault. How was he supposed to know it was going to happen?"
"Because it's logical," he says and turns back to me. "Having sex with a Vulcan in a room programmed for a Vulcan's comfort zones is just asking for a heat stroke!"
I am grateful that it is Gamma shift, and therefore the sickbay is empty of others that are not sedated.
"I'm very distracting, Bones," he says, a smirk on the corner of his mouth.
The doctor rolls his eyes.
"And Spock got me here as quickly as he could when he realized something was wrong. And I mean, come on. This can't be the worst sex-related injury you've had to treat."
McCoy cringes. "No, it's not," he concedes begrudgingly.
"That's pretty much all you do after shore leave. Treat people for alien STDs and take weird objects out of their-"
"Alright!" he interrupts. "This was still idiotic. And preventable."
"Yeah," Jim says and sits up. The cold compress from his chest falls to his lap and he moves to the side table. "So we'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Right, Spock?"
I nod. "I will not allow it to occur a second time."
"See?" Jim says, smiling. "And he's very reliable about these things." He takes the cloth from his head and puts it onto of the other one before swinging his legs around and hopping off the biobed.
"Wait a damn minute," McCoy snaps and puts his hand on Jim's shoulder to keep him from leaving. "I did not discharge you."
He rolls his eyes. "I'm fine! I'm not hot or dizzy anymore. Take my temperature if you want, but I feel better so I'm leaving."
They both glare at each other for a moment before the doctor points to the bed.
Jim frowns, but sits on the bed without further opposition so that the display above the bed registers his life-signs.
"Alright," McCoy says after studying them a minute. "While your internal temperature is still a little high, it's not life-threatening anymore." When Jim jumps from the bed with a smile, the doctor points his finger at his bare chest. "But you're done for the night and don't even think about going anywhere near Spock's room. Go to your own quarters."
He nods and herds me out of sickbay, followed by McCoy's grumblings.
We only see three crewmen on our way back to the Jim's quarters. They do not give us much regard. Our newly-formed relationship is not well known except for a choice few; however, it is not unusual to see us walking the halls in such a state of dress after sparring together in the gym. Jim still has perspiration from his body's attempts to cool its self, aiding in the illusion.
When we arrive at the deck containing the officers' quarters, I slow down in front of the door to my quarters. "Perhaps I should allow you to rest," I suggest.
"Naw, come on," Jim says and grabs my upper arm, and I allow him to drag me to his own quarters. I stand in the doorway to his sleeping area as he collapses onto his bed. I shift my weight slightly and do not move closer.
He looks at me. "You okay?"
I raise an eyebrow. "I was not the one whose life was threatened."
"No, but you look tense." He motions me closer. "Let's go to sleep."
I hesitate, guilt gripping me. "I do not think touching you would be wise."
He rolls his eyes. "You're not going to make me sick."
"I was a contributing factor to your illness, and therefore-"
"Spock," he interrupts. His eyes are soft. "Bones was overreacting, okay? It wasn't you're fault. We just didn't consider how hot your room was."
I tilt my head. "I believe I should sleep in my own quarters tonight."
"Then I'm just going to follow you in there," he says in a way that reminds me of a stubborn child.
The corners of my mouth twitch down. "You are far too reckless concerning your own health."
He gives me an expectant look.
I hesitate again before approaching and sitting on the edge. After a moment, he wraps his arms around my chest and pulls me further onto the bed. He lays my back against his chest and I tense.
He kisses my temple and I get a clearer sense of his emotions: amusement and comfort. "Calm down, Spock. This isn't the first time we've slept in the same bed together. I never got sick before; this time should be no different."
"You did not suffer from a heat stroke the previous times."
"I'm fine. I promise." He nuzzles behind my ear.
I exhale heavily and turn in his embrace. I place an arm over his chest and rest my head on his shoulder. I place my palm over his heart. His heartbeat is much slower and his skin feels cool to the touch again. I relax against him, much of my apprehension dissipated.
I feel his chin on my forehead. "See? I'm fine. No harm done."
I shift slightly. "If you begin to feel ill, you will tell me. If you feel hot, you will remove me from your person." Neither are questions.
Warm air from a silent laugh is blown on my hair. "I will."
It does not take long before he asleep, his breath and the tempo of his heart growing slower. I consider retreating back to my room, but I doubt I would be able to depart the bed without his notice, and I should not leave him providing that he may grow ill once again. It is only logical that I stay. His comfortable embrace as little to do with it.
Next: Second