Work Text:
Spock awakens that morning finding himself colder than usual. The welcoming heat from his bondmate is absent as he rises from the mattress, the covers pooling around his hips as he glances to the side that Jim habitually occupies; and finds it void. Spock tilts his head, confusion bubbling within him for a moment before Jim’s mind brushes against him reminiscent of a Terran cat brushing against the legs of its owner. ‘ Sorry.’ Jim whispers softly into his still sleep addled mind, ‘ I left you a note.’
Spock looks towards the nightstand that resides next to their bed, and sure enough, there is a hastily scribbled note on a scrap of old, replicated paper. Spock allows himself a small smile and a mental note to store the note where he maintains a collection of the others that Jim writes him.
T’hy’la, it begins, and Spock’s heart flutters in his side, he loves it when Jim speaks Vulcan.
I didn’t want to wake you. Had to handle some things on the lower decks. Looks like it’s going to be another day without stable environmental controls.
Love,
Jim
Spock resided to pull the covers back around him, draping them over his shoulders and wrapping himself within the thermal blanket Jim had brought him from the supply room.
It was going on two days now of the environmental controls being, as Jim had said, “on the fritz” after their latest run in with The Klingons and leaving them slowly trudging at half impulse to Star Base 14 for repairs. Whilst the temperatures were tolerable to the human population of The Enterprise, it held the opposite for Spock.
Whilst nights on Vulcan were much cooler than days; the steady temperatures of The Enterprise had reached a low point of 72 degrees Fahrenheit or 22 degrees Celsius, much lower than any Vulcan night he had ever experienced. The temperature is much more reminiscent to that of the time he spent in San Francisco at the Academy. Though, that was easily cured with coats and thermal undershirts and central heating inside of the buildings.
On The Enterprise however, a majority of their power had been redirected to stabilize the shields and continued life support. Spock wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, an uncharacteristic shiver wrecking down his body. Here on The Enterprise, he was subjected to being cold until such a time that the environmental controls were to be repaired. He could feel Jim’s worry slowly creep across the bond, remorse following close behind as Jim’s mind brushed gently against his.
Spock returned the affections, ‘Cease worrying, Ashayam.’ He projected, ‘I will be fine.’ He stated, and although he is aware of the multiple meanings of the word, he knows it will be enough to placate his worried bondmate for now. Jim pokes at him once more, laughter rippling across the golden thread and warming him from the inside; out. It is enough for him to allow the blanket to fall, to finally allow his body to turn and exit the bed. The fuzzy socks that Jim had given him made contact with what would usually be a heated floor, but instead, Spock could feel the frigid cold of the hard metal between the layer of wool and his bare feet.
Normally, he and Jim would partake in their morning meal in the privacy of their shared quarters, the replicator normally already online and a cup of tea for Spock and coffee for Jim would already be waiting. But now, with recreational and auxiliary power diverted, their replicator stood offline. He would have to grab his morning tea and breakfast in the officer’s mess hall. The private mess hall reserved for higher ranking officers was now closed, as well as the ones for the lower decks. Instead, all crew members would be redirected to the much larger common crew mess hall. With schedules already created and divided out amongst the crew in the hopes to prevent overcrowding.
So instead of Spock’s usual routine, he bypasses the small kitchenette and instead begins getting dressed. A thermal shirt, the regulation black undershirt, then Science Blues. A pair of thermal leggings, two layers of thick socks, regulation black pants, and regulation black boots. In the back of Spock’s mind Jim quips,
‘Don’t forget a scarf.’
and Spock can only roll his eyes as Jim laughs.
After donning as many layers as he possibly could, Spock is ready to begin the day. His duties took him away from the bridge and spent monitoring the experiments of the botany lab on the plants they had collected from Frigda Prime. From the preliminary reports Spock has read so far, they seem to use negatively charged ions found abundantly amongst the watery planet to nurture itself; similar to photosynthesis of flora on Earth and other planets.
Spock is quick to make his way to the Officer’s Mess, taking with him the thermos Jim had gifted to him last Hanukkah while they were snowed in at the Kirk Farm. Grateful now that he had brought it along with them instead of leaving it behind at their San Francisco residence. He had one also at his family home on Vulcan, and had gone through a phase in his childhood where he insisted he only drink fluids out of the thermos instead of a more appropriate container.
He programs his drink of choice, a hotter variant of the Vulcan Spice Tea he usually favors on Ship Mornings such as these. He watches as the steaming liquid drips into the thermos, the warm scent wrapping around him. When his drink is done, he programs a Vulcan version of an egg wrap sandwich with feta. It is convenient in that he does not need to find a seat in the crowded mess and can consume his food while on the way to the Science Labs. He knows with the cold temperatures of The Enterprise that extra protein in his diet is crucial right now. His hemoglobin runs low at his normal baseline, the cooler temperatures do not do much in ways of improving his body’s ability at keeping homeostasis.
He takes a sip of the tea as he leaves, and crinkles his mouth, illogically, he notes that the tea tastes better when it is prepared in their quarters, When Jim is there to give it to him along with a gentle press of fingers and lips. Warmth and affection spread across the bond as Spock relays this fact with Jim, love and adoration given in turn. It is enough to make Spock forget that he is cold; if only for the moment.
He spends the day keeping a steady pace throughout the labs, never allowing his body to rest long with the fear that the cold will creep back onto him. He works diligently, assigning tasks to the crew under him and placing Lieutenant Junior Grade Montero in charge of the botany experiments for the next week.
A shift without laying his gaze upon his bondmate is, illogically, longer than one where he does. He longs for the gentle hazel of Jim’s eyes, for the familiar lift of the corners of his mouth. For his arms to be wrapped around him and feel the warmth he so readily yearns for.
He does not have to wait long, Jim is already waiting for him when the doors to their quarters slide open and he’s greeted with Jim reclined on the sofa. A blanket from the farm house draped over him and a book in his hands. Jim glances up at him with a radiant smile that, for a moment, seems to generate heat just like a sun.
“Hey.” Jim says, picking up the bookmark from the arm of the sofa and nestling it along the crease before closing the book and placing it on the table. “I thought you’d still be gone for a while.” He finishes, watching as Spock crosses the threshold of their quarters, the door sliding shut behind him.
“As did I.” Spock replied, setting his thermos down on the counter next to Jim’s book, the familiar red cover of the Jules Verne collection that Jim has been rereading in the past month catches his eye. The gold edges of the paper catch in the dimmer artificial light of their quarters. “However,” Spock continues, “I am nonetheless pleased to be back in your presence.”
Jim smiles at that, wide and brilliant and blinding as Spock sits down next to him. Jim lifts the blanket, and allows Spock to cuddle close to him. Jim’s arm wraps around him, his hand rubbing up and down the length of Spock’s arm, “Why Mister Spock,” Jim teases, “it almost sounds like you missed me.”
“Indeed.” Spock replies, pushing himself tighter along Jim’s side, the blanket brought up past his chest and tucked behind his shoulder blade. He turns his face inwards, nose pressed against the side of Jim’s neck.
Jim lets out a giggle, his hand tangling in the back of Spock’s hair, “Oh, babe.” Jim says, pushing him closer ever so gently, “You’re freezing.” He notes. He can’t help but remember that chilly night months ago at the farm in which he somehow convinced Spock to join him outside at the bonfire. How the fire warmed them while the air around them struggled to freeze them. As they sat on a larger chair, limbs intertwined almost akin to their current positions, as they basked in the knowledge that with the help of the other, they had no problem staying warm.
“My apologies, Jim.” Spock replied, mind intent to pull away and apologize for lack of coherent fault. Jim only pulled him close; his head shaking just a miniscule amount side to side.
“No need for apologies.” Jim replied, voice firm as he pulled him closer. “I’ve got you.” he continued, turning his head and pressing a kiss to Spock’s nose, the skin cold there as well, “It’s okay.” Jim promises.
And Spock can only nod his head, content with the answer.