murder of one (_seven_crows) wrote,
murder of one


Title: Untitled (oh come on, it's got Kirk sweaty and banged up and Spock stripping him, does it need one?)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Also that new Star Trek thingamajig, which was halfway decent donchaknow.
Summary: "Shockingly, after having spent three days running through caves and mountains and fighting off cave-creatures with tentacles - tentacles, because the cave-creatures themselves just weren't bad enough – I'm not really in the mood for a lecture on how I should be in sickbay, and you can take whatever sedative you've got in that hypospray of yours and shove it."

Getting out of the medical bay isn't really that hard, and since it's the night cycle anyway the corridors of the ship are mostly empty as Kirk creeps back to his quarters – he only has to duck into a Jefferies tube once or twice, and manages not to pull any more muscles on the journey.

Once he's back in his quarters, it takes an almost Herculean effort not to just collapse into his bed – his soft mattress, with sheets and pillows, nothing could be more appealing after two nights sleeping in caves – but there's the small matter of his torn, dirty, bloody clothes. And a shower – God, he's missed showering. He grabs the hem of his shirt and tugs upwards, but his left arm is refusing to cooperate once it rises above a forty-five degree angle.

The door to his quarters chimes, and he grimaces.

"Computer," he says, "ignore it until it goes away."

It chimes again anyway. At least this time it's slightly quieter.

"You're not going to go away, are you," mutters Kirk, and the door chimes. Again. He sighs, and gives up, sitting on his bed facing away from the door. "Enter."

The door hisses as it slides open, and Kirk winces as he rolls his left shoulder. "Shockingly, after having spent three days running through caves and mountains and fighting off cave-creatures with tentacles - tentacles, because the cave-creatures themselves just weren't bad enough – I'm not really in the mood for a lecture on how I should be in sickbay, and you can take whatever sedative you've got in that hypospray of yours and shove it up your - "

"I do not have a hypospray."

Kirk begins to turn, and his ribs protest – he stops abruptly, then tries again more carefully. Spock is standing in his doorway, hands clasped behind his back, one eyebrow raised.

"Thought you were Bones," says Kirk.

"And yet I am not," says Spock, stepping the rest of the way into Kirk's quarters. "There is a matter that requires your attention."


"I do not believe waiting would be wise," says Spock.

Kirk stares at him. "And you can't take care of it yourself?"

"Command was ceded back to you the moment you stepped aboard the Enterprise," says Spock levelly. "A captain's authorization code is needed to replicate the proton stream generators for the engines, and ours is unfortunately not functioning properly."

"Scotty broke it," Kirk translates.

"The impromptu phaser firefight brought on by Ulrock's attempt to take command of the ship broke it," Spock corrects. "And yet it remains broken. We will be unable to enter warp until the matter is resolved, and our orders do not leave enough time to delay any further in their maintenance."

Kirk closes his eyes briefly, then pulls himself off the bed and over to the computer. "Computer," he says, and it chimes a response. "Grant access to Commander Spock to replicate the photon – oh, hell, let him replicate whatever he wants." It chimes again, and Kirk turns to Spock. "There you go – whatever needs doing, do it. I'm going to sleep."

He's halfway to his bed and once again waging his war against his shirt when he realizes that Spock hasn't moved. He turns back to him. "What?"

"You would simply – grant me access?" asks Spock, looking confused – for a Vulcan, anyway, which is to say that his eyebrows are at a marginally different angle than usual. Of course, the expression could also be consternation – Kirk isn't that great at reading Vulcan body language.

He frowns in reply. "I'm pretty sure that's what I just did, yeah," he says.

"The only replications that require the captain's access code are those that are mere steps away from being weaponized," says Spock.

"So?" says Kirk. "Now you can replicate too. I trust you."

"Despite the fact that one of my first actions upon gaining the captaincy of the Enterprise for myself was to maroon you on an ice planet without a second thought," clarifies Spock.

"And unless you're planning to do it again, I don't see the problem," says Kirk. Spock continues staring at him as though he's grown a third head. "Oh, come on. You've already saved my life how many times now? It shouldn't be surprising that I'd trust you with it."

"And of course the frequency with which you end up in sickbay is no reflection whatsoever on how careful you are with your life," says Spock blandly.

Kirk opens his mouth to protest, but realizes that Spock's pretty much right. "Well, now you know that I trust you with my ship, too. Besides, I happen to think we make a pretty good team." He takes a couple steps closer, and, because he knows it will irritates him, gives Spock a friendly clap on the shoulder.

Then he abruptly freezes.

Spock's eyebrow barely twitches. "And of course, I need hardly remind you that you only very recently dislocated your shoulder."

"You know," says Kirk, his voice tight and strained, "it occurred to me." He very gingerly lowers his arm back to his side. "Anyway. Go. Replicate. If you need anything else, with it yourself, and that's an order."

Spock inclines his head in understanding, and turns towards the door. Kirk turns back to his own bed, and gives his shirt one last valiant try, but no dice – he grunts a little when his arm hits what he's been thinking of as the angle from Hell, and he resigns himself to one last night in these grubby, bloodstained clothes.

"Do you require assistance, Captain?" asks Spock from the doorway, and Kirk grunts out another laugh as he looks over at Spock.

"Not in this, no, thank you," says Kirk.

"I must note that that is the same uniform you were wearing when you departed the ship with the away team seventy-three hours ago," says Spock. "Continuing to wear it would be - " He hesitates, and Kirk raises an eyebrow, daring him to say it. " - ill-advised," Spock finishes.

"Only, as you've so recently reminded me, I can't lift my arm above my hip and there's no way in hell I'm letting you strip me," says Kirk. "Goodnight, Commander."

Spock hesitates again. "Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

Kirk sighs. "Are you going to leave if I say no?"

Spock considers this, and for a moment Kirk thinks he's going to say something quintessentially Vulcan, like 'I find it highly unlikely,' or 'it is statistically improbable.' But Spock settles for something more straightforward: "No."

"Oh, fine. Go ahead."

"You smell bad," says Spock flatly. "You require a shower or bath of some kind, and I believe that attempting to do so clothed in your present state would only compound the situation."

Kirk tries to surreptitiously sniff himself, and Spock adds, "I believe your continued exposure has left you immune. Which is a mercy."

Kirk stares at him, then gives up. "Fine. Grab this side."

Together they carefully maneuver the shirt off of him, and although it smears some godforsaken mixture of blood, mud, and tentacle goo on Kirk's face, they quickly have it off.

Spock holds the shirt gingerly away from his body, and Kirk tries not to grin. "I think I can handle the rest, thanks," he says.

"Very well," says Spock. Kirk takes a perverse pleasure in watching his nostrils flare as he glances down at the mud-encrusted shirt. "I will go have this burned."

Kirk does grin, now, and Spock heads for the door. "Oh, Spock - " says Kirk, and he pauses by the door. "My mom – if you could send her something letting her know I'm not dead, that would be great."

"That is unnecessary," says Spock. "She was never informed of your presumed death in the first place."

Kirk raises his eyebrows. "I fell off a cliff," he says. "You officially logged me dead - "

"Starfleet regulations demanded it," Spock cedes, "due to the overwhelming evidence. However, if there is one thing I have come to know about you since we first became acquainted, Captain, it is that at every possible opportunity, you flout rationality, thwart reason, and defy logic. As rationality, reason, and logic all determined that you must not have survived, I knew the inverse to be true. In those circumstances, it would have been - " again Spock stops himself, and Kirk raises an eyebrow and mouths 'illogical?' Spock ignores him and continues, "- nonsensical to inform your next of kin of a fact that I was certain was false."

"Well," says Kirk. "Your faith in me is touching."

Spock ignores him again. "If you will excuse me, Captain, I must go write up new biohazard regulations to deal with this." He gestures to the shirt again.

"Why, Commander," says Kirk. "Was that a joke?"

Spock opens the door to Kirk's quarters, but lingers in the doorway. "Of course not, Captain," he says, one eyebrow eloquently cocked. "That would be - " and here his lips twitch upwards, just the tiniest bit – "illogical."
Tags: fic, star trek
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