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Kirk flicked open his communicator. "Personal log, supplemental, stardate 5283.8. It's been a few hours now since the two of us took refuge from this blizzard. I can't help but wonder what kind of person chooses to build a tiny one-room cabin out here of all places—it doesn't seem like anyone's been here in years."
He looked up at the log ceiling, putting his hand on an exposed beam. "Spock said it was 'remarkably constructed'—I'd say that's a lot of love put into it."
The man in question raised his head at his name, but turned back to tend the hearth.
Kirk leaned on the window frame. "It's the wind that weighs on me more than anything," he said. "You could see forever out there when we landed. Now it's kicked up so much snow I can barely see the porch. And the sound… Here, listen."
He held the communicator up in silence. The wind howled through the landscape, rattling the glass of the windowpane.
"Not for the first time, I ask myself if my ancestors felt this way all those centuries ago, before climate control and central heating. Does a winter night awaken some primal need to contemplate our place in the world?"
Kirk sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Or maybe I just need to sleep. The Enterprise will be looking for us by now, and we should know by morning whether our distress signal has been received."
With that, he closed the communicator. "What're you thinking about, Spock?"
Spock frowned. "I fail to see the logic in providing supplementary emotional information when all situational factors remain constant."
"Haven't you ever said something just to… calm yourself down?"
"That describes several Vulcan traditions of meditation, some of which I have practiced. However, were you attempting any of them, I would be obligated to mention that pacing as you were is considered poor form."
Kirk's mouth quirked into a smile. "Why, Spock—that almost sounded like a friendly jab."
Spock raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "I am not responsible for your choice of interpretation, captain."
"Forget it, then." Kirk looked around the room. "How are we on supplies?"
"Our current supply of rations should last us several days, there is an ample store of kindling, and there is sufficient bedding to keep us warm. At present, we need nothing."
"Well, I know Vulcans don't need to sleep much, but I should get some rest for the night."
"I will join you. The cold is… affecting me somewhat."
"Understood. Let me know if it becomes an issue. Where am I sleeping?"
Spock pointed at the bed in the corner. "It should be simple to move this closer to the fire."
"But what about you?"
"I will be sleeping beside you."
"You said there was sufficient bedding."
"Correct. If the two of us share one bed, the available bedding will suffice."
"Spock, that's a little…"
"We need to conserve warmth, captain. Proximity is only logical. Do you have an objection?"
Unfortunately for Kirk, he didn't. Not one Spock would understand, anyway. "Well… usually when humans in my culture sleep in the same bed, they're family members or partners."
"Are we not partners? I was under the impression you held me in high esteem."
Kirk opened his mouth like a fish. "You know, Spock, sometimes you say things and I have no idea how to answer them." He shook his head. "Forgive me. Chalk up what I said just now to human irrationality."
Spock nodded. "I often do."
With the two of them in the small bed, Kirk noticed how cold his first officer was. He should have been only a few degrees cooler than a human, but the difference felt like so much more.
"Can I help you, captain?" Spock asked.
It was then Kirk realized he'd reached out to embrace the man. "Forgive me. If this is too much—"
"This is satisfactory."
"Goodnight, Spock."
"Goodnight, captain."
In his dreams, Spock was laughing again, like he had under the influence of the pod plants, but they were in Iowa. The Enterprise, impossibly small, sat parked in the fields.
He floated on top of it and scraped a snowball off the top. He threw it at Spock, who laughed, "Jim, Jim!"
"Jim. Jim! Wake up!"
Kirk opened his eyes blearily to see Dr. McCoy standing over him.
"You two lovebirds have a nice nap?"
McCoy looked up at the panel over the sickbay bed. "Congratulations, Spock. The computer says you only have mild hypothermia, which means your temperature's back to what you said it's supposed to be. Though I can't believe that's normal."
"I assure you that it is, doctor. With your permission, captain, I'll take the rest of the day off to recover."
"Of course. Oh, before you go?"
"Yes, captain?"
"Remind me to talk to you later about, uh, 'partnership.'"
"Of course. Captain, doctor." Spock nodded to each of them before leaving.
McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Partnership, huh."
"He thought it meant something else!" Kirk protested.
McCoy swiped his tricorder over Kirk. "I'll need to see you for a follow-up tomorrow if your symptoms don't improve."
"How's that?"
"If you're truly this dense, there's something wrong with your brain."