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"No luck?" Leonard teased half-heartedly as Spock heavily shut the floor panel under the cockpit. Spock had spent over an hour attempting to repair it before canning it and calling it for what it was: a lost cause. Though in Spock's words that was I do not possess the required tools or materials to enact sufficient repairs at this time which was basically the same thing.
Spock strode to the back of the shuttle where Leonard was swaddled in the emergency supply blankets and sleeping bags. He didn't answer Leonard's question and peeled back another square of paneling and began tinkering with the switches behind the conduit. A futile effort, probably, because Spock's usual blank expression looked even more blank. Leonard assumed he was calculating the odds of their survival or rescue and it was looking bleak. From Spock's summarized report they were adrift without propulsion, no communication, and a dwindling supply of oxygen.
Shortly after losing power to their main systems the temperature had plummeted after life support failed. Spock had ordered Leonard to sit in the back of the shuttle where the power converters were closest in hopes they would generate some heat, though Leonard had guessed Spock just didn't want Leonard to distract him while he attempted to reroute power to the shuttle's main systems.
Leonard shivered under his Starfleet thermals. His worst fears come to life: slowly dying alone in the cold void of space and counting down the minutes until their air supply ran out.
Well. Not entirely alone. Spock was here, which was somehow both better and worse for an outcome. At least Leonard wasn't dying alone, but he would have preferred if Spock were back on the Enterprise instead of enjoying the same miserable fate with him on this damn shuttle.
Something sparked under Spock's fingers and he jerked back. "Are you alright?" Leonard called out. Spock ignored him again. He closed the panel and slowly sat beside Leonard, arranging his limbs into a meditative pose. "Spock?"
"I have been unable to repair the ship's long range communications," Spock answered after a beat. "The short range transponder will continue to send signals every 35.8 minutes until the power supply is drained."
"That's not what I asked." Leonard sat back and sighed. The chill was settling in fast but at least swaddled under all of the emergency blankets he was out of risk of catching hypothermia. Spock had leveraged his superior Vulcan biology and refused any thermals in favor of wrapping them around Leonard. Vulcans were heterothermic, so he could gradually raise his temperature for some time yet to combat the worst of it. As Spock's doctor he also knew there was a limit to what Spock could thermoregulate, but he decided to save his energy arguing with that stubborn green asshole until he really needed it.
"I suppose you're gonna sit there and think logical thoughts until you find a way to get us out of this." Unsurprisingly, Spock ignored him yet again. "The one time you decide to let me win an argument and we're dying in the middle of space."
"I am attempting to conserve energy," Spock replied firmly, without even twitching a muscle. "I recommend you attempt the same."
Leonard leaned back and pouted. He squeezed the blanket over his head tighter and glared at the top of Spock's bowlcut in hopes that the frustrated and anxious energy could transfer from him to Spock just by looking at him.
Spock meditated for an hour or so, or maybe longer. Leonard didn't want to ask how much oxygen they had left but half of him wanted to know just so he could gauge how much longer they could expect to suffer in the cold. His ears were ringing, only displaced by the even huffs of air he emitted when he exhaled.
"Damn unfortunate," Leonard said at last to break the unbearable silence. The tips of his fingers and nose were so cold they'd gone numb. He didn't care if Spock ignored him. "You 'n me, going out like this. And you won't even give me the privilege of arguing with you."
Mildly, Spock countered, "Arguing is not conducive to resting."
"Well I hate this. Sitting in silence. It's not right. If I'm gonna die out here, don't you dare think for a minute I'm gonna go quietly."
From Spock's profile, Leonard watched his eyes crack open. "You would prefer to continue an argument at this time?"
"Yes," Leonard said gratefully. "I would, actually."
Spock twisted his head to look at him. Then his body followed, because he liked giving Leonard the heebie jeebies sometimes with how he could twist his spine, which Leonard grimaced and made all sorts of faces at, and there was almost a trace of a smile on Spock's face. "Don't do that. You know I don't like it."
Spock's expression was the same but Leonard saw a spark of gratitude in Spock's eyes as well. He began to correct Leonard with, "Vulcans can—"
Leonard cut him off. "I don't CARE what Vulcan bodies are capable of, you green menace—"
And so it went. They argued on and off for so long until Spock noticed Leonard's teeth were chattering, and started uselessly pulling apart the conduit behind them in hopes of sparking some sort of reaction to heat the ambient temperature.
"S's'no g-good," Leonard told him after Spock singed his hands for probably the fourth or fifth time. He had told Spock to give it a rest even before he started burning off the top layers of his skin (which went ignored, obviously). "S-stop that. L-let me get a l-look at your hands."
"I am well," Spock insisted, then actually winced as the wires in his hands sparked again and he was forced to withdraw. Leonard growled empty threats at him until Spock sat down next to him and Leonard turned over Spock's hands. He didn't have a tricorder, no dermal regenerator, not even bandages or anything useful in the emergency supplies. Spock's hands were warm, and as Leonard had guessed he was probably running a low-grade fever—a self-inflicted one—to combat the dropping temperature.
The tips of Spock's hands were bronze. He didn't wince even as Leonard's hands shook from the cold and brushed up against the sensitive pads of his fingers where the worst of the burns were left.
"What is your professional diagnosis, doctor?" Spock was giving him that judgmental eyebrow because he knew Leonard had nothing to fix him with. At least he didn't try to remind Leonard it was altogether illogical to waste the effort healing his hands when the lack of breathable atmosphere would kill them anyway in however many hours they had left. Leonard was very aware of that fact.
"You'll live," Leonard grunted, pulling his own hands back under his thermals, shoving them under his armpits, and shuddering.
Spock didn't get up again. He settled back down for meditation. Leonard stopped shivering at some point and leaned back against the wall. He must have slipped off for a light nap because he woke to a blast of cold air and Spock was tearing the thermals off him. It had obviously been a nice nap because he'd missed the part where Spock ripped open his sleeping bag and unswaddled him from the burrito of blankets and emergency shelter blankets he'd been in before.
"What's your p-problem!?" Leonard sputtered. Spock had stripped him down to nothing but his 'fleet issued underwear and then crawled on top of him. While Leonard attempted to steal his clothes back and cover his modesty, he nearly missed Spock doing the same until he was granted a (nearly) Vulcan full-frontal.
"P-Put your clothes back on!" Leonard said, then let out a yelp as Spock manhandled him back into the sleeping bag. "Spock!" Leonard squawked.
He figured Spock would ignore him again and was surprised to get an answer that time. "You are displaying signs of hypothermia. Starfleet protocols for retaining a suitable Human body temperature are now in effect," Spock replied, then crushed Leonard with his whole weight against the floor. Leonard wiggled under him but he was too tired and too cold to argue, and Spock's skin was deliciously warm and honestly the most wonderful feeling in that moment. His hands were so cold and numb that they felt like they were on fire. He let out a sigh of relief as Spock's warm back pressed up against his front and his brain told him to shut up and accept the massive olive branch Spock was handing over. Spock sealed up their bag and somehow managed to re-swaddle the two of them under the thermal blankets and sealed them off from the cold air of the shuttle.
Probably ten minutes later Leonard's brain defrosted enough to remember he was in his skivvies with Spock and had a little private meltdown about it. At least Spock was facing away from him, so he didn't have to look at any judgmental eyebrows about it. He tried to respect Spock's personal space but it was a difficult task considering they were squeezed together like sardines. The best Leonard could do was keep his hands to himself instead of wrapping himself like a koala around Spock's front like he wanted to. For the relief of Spock's warm skin. Obviously.
His hip was getting sore on one side and as he attempted to roll over Leonard somehow slotted his knee between Spock's and froze. He freed himself and pushed back as far away from Spock as possible, though he didn't have much room to run to.
Spock rumbled out, "If you are concerned about respecting my privacy, I assure you that under these circumstances I will not be offended by any physical contact."
"Uh-huh," said Leonard, unconvinced.
For whatever reason Spock took that as an invitation to roll over and somehow neither of them kneed each other in any sensitive areas in the process. Looking at Spock was worse, actually, not that Leonard was going to tell him to roll over.
"You are agitated," Spock noted. "Is there anything I may assist you with to ease this?"
Leonard glowered at him. "I'm dying on this stupid shuttle with you and we're gonna either freeze to death or suffocate, not sure which one will kill us first. You're damn right I'm agitated. And stop reading my mind."
"I do not need to access your thoughts. My mental shields are sufficient," Spock said neatly. "Your posture and expression indicate agitation and anxiety. I am simply asking…if you require any aid."
"I'd like a working shuttle," Leonard muttered. "And a less annoying partner to be stuck in it with." Spock's expression didn't change at that, but Leonard still sensed he'd hurt him somehow. They were always poking each other with barbs, but like he had on that Roman planet, he knew he'd poked the wrong place.
Suck up your pride, Leonard. "Sorry. I don't mean that. I really do wish you'd stayed on the Enterprise, though. No reason to die out here with me."
"It is unfortunate you do not value yourself as many others do," Spock said, in that patiently soft Vulcan voice that Leonard had rarely heard from him. Usually when Leonard was either on death's door or dying from some terminal illness. The fact he was using it now said the situation was just as grim.
Leonard closed his eyes. "Don't," he said. He was not as graceful as Spock and trying to turn over would probably end up with him kneeing Spock in someplace undesirable, and he couldn't bear to look at Spock anymore. He was finally ready for that dreaded question he'd held off ever since Spock announced they were stranded. "How long?"
Spock didn't answer for several minutes. Leonard kept his eyes closed.
The answer came with Spock's normal, unemotional delivery: "Approximately eleven hours, twenty nine minutes, and eighteen seconds."
Leonard wasn't a numbers-man like Spock but even he could do that math. The Enterprise wouldn't rendezvous for another sixteen hours, and then however much time needed after that they would need to search until they picked up Spock's faint transponder signal. Not enough time at all.
"I see," Leonard said, swallowing around the knot in his throat. He tried not to think about Jim. Whether the Enterprise would ever find their shuttle. It seemed terrible if they didn't, as their crew would go out searching once he and Spock failed to make the rendezvous. Starfleet would order them to abandon the search after a few days, or until something urgent came across their orders. They would never find out what happened to him or Spock. Missing in action, status undetermined.
In the worst case, they would be found and their crew would have to bury them. It'd kill Jim, he knew, but it's not like Jim had any idea that their trip back from that science conference would lead to irreparable engine damage, or that they'd be stranded out here…
He felt Spock's hand press against his hip, an iron brand. His skin still felt feverishly hot against Leonard's skin. Leonard suppressed a shudder. Spock didn't move, keeping his hand where it was. Leonard leaned his forehead into Spock's warm shoulder.
He murmured, "How are you holding up?"
Spock's breath was warm against his neck. He said, "I estimate I will only be able to maintain an elevated fever temperature for two hours."
"Not like you to be so unspecific."
"I am unable to calculate a better approximation at this time." Or he'd been running a fever long enough that the heat was starting to boil those mathematically perfect brainwaves. Just because Vulcans could adjust their temperatures to combat extremes didn't mean it was without consequences. It probably didn't help that it was so cold; Vulcans were genetically engineered to combat the extreme heat of their home planet, not freezing shuttles in the middle of space.
Apropos to nothing Spock said, "The Captain will be looking for us."
"Yes," Leonard agreed, closing his eyes again. "He will."
He allowed sleep to swallow him. Spock would wake him up if he had a eureka moment to rescue them from their dire fate, or better yet, he'd let Leonard sleep through everything. So far he'd kept his anxiety at bay by burning the wick on that dwindling sense of hope that Spock would come up with a miraculous solution and he'd like to keep it that way until the end. If he started thinking about Jim, or how he'd never see Joanna again, he'd lose it. Better not to think about it at all.
His dreams were bitter-cold, his toes numb in his boots as he trudged through miles of fresh powdery snow while his sister raced up ahead, laughing with her sled propped over her shoulder. Her hat and gloves were a bright red mark against the white backdrop.
By the time he caught up to her, the sky and snow had vanished and he was standing in a blank landscape; white, featureless, and completely devoid of any color or light. The white void spread for miles in every direction with no sense of beginning or end. Just void.
Leonard blinked and then Spock was standing ten feet ahead of him with his eyes closed. He didn't seem to notice Leonard, and his brow was knitted together with deep concentration. He was repeating words to himself but there was no sound, except an odd sort of pressure Leonard felt under his tongue that spread up to the top of his head, and then kept building and building until he was sure his head would burst.
"What in the world are you doing?" Leonard demanded. Spock didn't seem to hear him and the next burst of pressure made his eyes burn.
"Hey! Cut that out!" Leonard ran at him, grabbing hold of Spock's shoulders and shaking him. "Spock!"
Spock's eyes opened and Leonard found himself snapping awake and out of his dream. He and Spock had migrated even closer together during their little nap and Leonard had somehow wrapped his limbs around Spock like a squid. He stubbornly held on though, because Spock had said the contact didn't bother him, and part of Leonard was always testing how far he could push those boundaries.
"I apologize," Spock said, his voice flat. "As I was resting, I believe my mental shields briefly…faltered."
"Spock, it's fine. Really." Leonard squeezed Spock's arm in what he hoped came across as reassuring. "S'not like I'm gonna go blabbering about your secret thoughts to anyone. Not that I could, or would do that…right now…"
Spock's posture relaxed minutely. "I will ensure your sleep goes undisturbed, should you choose to rest again."
"I'd rather stay up and annoy you some more." Spock shot him a look he couldn't decipher so Leonard dropped his head back to Spock's chest and sighed. "What were you dreaming about?"
"I was attempting to meditate," Spock said, and Leonard grinned at the edge of irritation he caught in Spock's voice. "Your mind is very…loud, especially in close proximity, and that makes clearing one's mind to be…challenging."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Spock's chest moved under him. Leonard picked his head up to stare at him. "Are you sighing at me?"
"...no," Spock said.
"I think you're lying to me."
Spock gave him that stink-eye that Leonard only earned when he pressed the right button. "Vulcans do not lie."
"Right," Leonard drawled. "I forgot. So all those times—"
"It is not considered lying should one determine it is for the greater safety of another individual, or in many instances, the lives of the crew, if some information is…withheld."
"Logical," Leonard agreed sarcastically.
"Indeed."
"Is it logical I'm hoping you're withholding some secret spare power cell under all these blankets and just withholding it until it's convenient?"
"That, doctor, is incredibly illogical."
"You always say the sweetest things."
Spock had the audacity to actually look amused at that comment, which made Leonard's face heat. Spock wasn't supposed to react at all when Leonard dropped a semi-sarcastic (and somewhat flirtatious) tease like that. He clammed up after that and Spock seemed happy to rest or meditate or whatever in silence.
Leonard was starting to lose feeling in his fingers and toes again and Spock's skin was no longer as warm. Those thermal controls of his were starting to fail. And the two of them were still huddling together in their underwear.
"I wish you'd kept my pants on," Leonard muttered to himself. "Undignified for a man to die in his underwear."
As quiet as he'd said it, that comment didn't escape those Vulcan ears. Spock snapped out of his meditation to stare at him incredulously. "Pardon?"
Leonard grunted, "I said I wish you'd let me keep my pants on. A man shouldn't be dying in his underwear—"
"Starfleet regulation clearly defines—"
Leonard shoved his cold hands under Spock's back in retaliation. "Shut up. You and I both know that's not true. There's nothing in there that says you strip somebody down to their—"
"Leonard," Spock said, all at once sounding tired. "I do not wish to argue at this time."
"You better find a good way to shut me up, then, 'cus I'm gonna keep giving you shit about this until we both run out of air."
"Indeed?" Spock seemed to contemplate that. His dark eyes glittered with an intent Leonard couldn't decipher. "I believe I may have a solution, in this instance."
Leonard was halfway through coming up with another witty retort when that sunk in. "Oh? What would that be, Mr. Spock?"
Spock's hands slowly wound around his back, trailing along the bare skin. He could feel the sparks dancing off his skin where Spock's fingers met his. And Leonard leaned in as Spock did, and sighed as Spock kissed him, the Human way, with his mouth warm.
True to his word, Spock had definitely found a good way to shut him up. Leonard was suddenly all out of arguments and just tired and scared and simultaneously relieved Spock was holding him. Spock kissed him until he was gasping for air, and he was able to ignore how thin the atmosphere had become and no longer counted down the minutes.
He lost track of time after that. The shivers returned, and either their shuttle was rocking or Spock had started shivering underneath him, which was a bad sign for both of them. Leonard just held on tight.
Some cosmic force must've been feeling particularly generous because the next time Leonard woke up he was squinting at a bright light over his head and there was Jim Kirk, standing over his bed and smiling with relieved tension around his eyes.
"Bones," he said.
"Spock?" Leonard asked.
"Right here," Jim assured him, gesturing behind him. "Doctor M'Benga assures me he'll be coming out of his trance anytime now. You get some rest, alright?"
Later, in their debrief, Jim would reveal he had felt a periodic unease that led him to rerouting to the rendezvous early and then by some miracle picked up Spock's signal. Leonard was holding himself back from jumping into Spock's lap the whole time and he was pretty proud of his self-restraint that he hadn't. Yet.
Spock wasn't helping by looking perfectly unruffled and beautiful even after coming out of a three-day trance.
"I still don't get it," Leonard said, trying and failing to sound grumpy. "Our air should've still run out long before that."
"Eight hours earlier, actually," Jim said, sounding cheerful but looking anything but. "Scotty is running a diagnostic to find out what caused the power failure, and also whatever kept you alive for that long."
"I believe," Spock answered gravely, "the doctor and I were merely…lucky."
Jim's eyebrows rose. "I'd say," Leonard said, and motioned for Jim to wrap it up. "Now if you don't mind, Jim, but I'd like to have a talk with Mr. Spock. In private."
"...I'll leave you to it," Jim agreed, though he was looking at the two of them strangely. Not suspiciously, but something akin to it. Leonard figured he could be nervous about that later.
First, though, he was going to kiss Spock senseless against the briefing room table and make a very convincing argument about removing their pants. Temporary life support fluctuation meant he and Spock needed to resort to standard Starfleet procedures to preserve their body heat, or something. He'd figure that part out later.