Chapter Text
Spock had been looking for the Captain for almost an hour, an unsigned report open on his PADD, waiting for Kirk’s signature to finalise the document. Spock had looked first in the Captain’s cabin, then in the med-bay – he had slowly worked his way through the ship, until a visit to engineering had informed him that the Captain was likely to be found with Doctor McCoy.
When Spock reached the doctor’s cabin, he knocked lightly on the door. A moment later, the door opened, and the doctor’s frame blocked the view into the room.
McCoy looked Spock up and down, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and distaste. “What do you want?”
“I am looking for the captain, and was informed that I might find him here,” Spock replied. “There is a report that he has neglected to sign, and I thought it prudent to ask him to complete the task tonight so as to not waste time in waiting for tomorrow.”
“A logical conclusion,” McCoy mused, in a way that sounded somewhat close to an insult. “But Jim can’t really sign anything right now.”
“Is he not here?” Spock asked. He would have tried to peer into the room, but such an action would be unnecessary as the doctor would answer the questions truthfully – in Spock’s experience, Doctor McCoy was not drawn to the human proclivity to lie.
“Oh, he’s here,” McCoy said, and in stepping out of the way, revealed that the Captain was, in fact, in the room.
Kirk was stretched out on the doctor’s bed, his arms clutching a pillow to his bare chest. The Captain was wearing only his trousers – his shirt was folded carefully on the ground, along with his boots. Kirk’s face was oddly warped where it pressed against the doctor’s regulation mattress, and his eyes were closed.
“He is asleep,” Spock observed.
In place of the snide, sarcastic remark that Spock had expected, the doctor sighed. “Yeah. Jim’s pretty good at kicking habits when he wants to, but he doesn’t seem to have grown out of this one.”
“He sleeps here often?” Spock asked.
McCoy nodded. “We were roommates in the Academy, and I think it was difficult for him to adjust to sleeping on his own when we left. He comes here maybe two nights a week – as many as four when it gets tough.”
Spock frowned. He said, “I was not aware that the relationship between you and the Captain was so…” he paused, looking for the right word, “intimate.”
There was a strange feeling in Spock’s stomach, heavy and cold – he felt as though a fist had formed around his throat.
Before McCoy could formulate a reply, Spock took a step back from the door. “Inform the captain that I wish to speak with him when he wakes. The document is important, but I would not want to wake the Captain for something that can easily be completed tomorrow. Good night, Doctor.”
As Spock walked away from the Doctor’s room, he faintly heard the Captain stir, and ask, “Who was that?”
Spock did not, however, return to the room for the signature – he felt unwell, and thought it would be logical to retire for the night to allow his churning stomach time to recover.