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The light in Spock’s quarters was dim when the door swished open. Jim frowned as he stepped inside, McCoy right behind him. The desk chair was empty as was the area saved for meditation. They found Spock on his bed, curled slightly in on himself.
“Spock?” Jim said softly, wondering if Spock had simply needed a nap.
“I am awake, Jim,” he replied, voice sounding slightly off. Tired, more hoarse.
McCoy came to kneel at his bedside, eyes combing over him. “Are you alright?”
“It’s not like you to skip dinner,” Jim sat on the corner of the bed, putting a hand on Spock’s hip. His brow furrowed. “You’re trembling.”
A scanner was quickly pulled from the bag at McCoy’s hip. He waved it over Spock with a frown. “Elevated heartrate, increased antibodies, fever…why Mr. Spock, I’d say you’re sick.”
“Vulcans do not get sick,” Spock responded, sounding positively miserable just below the surface of his stoicism.
McCoy snorted. “Sure, just like they don’t lie, right?”
“…Vulcans do not get sick often.”
“Well,” Jim said with a sigh, moving to rub Spock’s back. “The fact of the matter is, this Vulcan is sick now. Is it serious, doctor?”
“Hardly,” McCoy put his scanner away. “Just a nasty cold. When did your symptoms start, Spock?”
Spock didn’t answer.
“Spock…” Jim said warningly. Finally, Spock slowly sat up in bed, his hair ruffled in places. His cheeks were flushed an olive green and he had dark circles under his eyes.
“Approximately two days ago.”
“Spock! You need to tell us when you’re feeling sick,” Jim exclaimed, but immediately corrected his volume when Spock winced minutely. “I would’ve told you to take a few days off and rest. We’re just on routine patrol, Chekov could’ve taken your station.”
“I found it illogical to concern others with my illness,” Spock said, trying to mask a cough by clearing his throat. “Being unfit for my post would have reflected poorly on my character and my ability to do my duty.”
“Poorly on…? Spock, you’re sick. There is nothing so pressing that it’s worth your health,” Jim took Spock’s hand in his, keeping their gazes locked. “Even if it’s just a cold, you have to take care of yourself, or at least let us take care of you. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? To care for each other?” Through their bond, Jim projected warmth and a concerned affection. In response, he felt the gentle, almost unsure way Spock accepted his words.
“Good to know you get as dramatic as Jim does when he’s sick. I’ll make a note in your file,” McCoy said, finishing preparing a hypospray. Spock looked wary as he held it up to his arm. “C’mon, Spock. It’s just to help with the fever. You’ll be able to rest better if you’re more comfortable. Better rest means you’ll be able to heal and get back to work sooner. Isn’t that the logical thing to do?”
Spock sighed slightly and nodded his head once. McCoy pressed the hypo to Spock’s upper arm, injecting him with a soft ‘hiss’.
“Let’s get you into something more comfortable,” Jim squeezed Spock’s hand before standing and moving to his closet. “Bones, help him get undressed.”
“Jim, I don’t need assistance in—”
“Dammit, Spock, we want to assist you!” McCoy grumbled, moving down to unzip Spock’s boots. Spock hesitated but then nodded again, allowing McCoy to continue helping him undress.
“Thank you, Leonard.”
“Wow, you really must be sick,” McCoy mumbled.
Spock sat on the bed criss-cross in his briefs, shivering slightly. Jim brought over the softest and warmest of Spock’s robes, the ones he occasionally wore to sleep.
In silence, Jim and McCoy carefully pulled Spock’s arms through the sleeves, draping the soft grey material over him. Jim pulled it closed around him.
“There,” McCoy said, placing his hand on Spock’s shoulder with a gentle pressure. “Now, you’re going to lie down and sleep.”
No longer resistant, Spock lowered himself back down onto the bed, head sinking into the pillow. Jim pulled the blanket over him, fussing with it a little.
“And when you wake up, I’m going to have my yeoman bring you tea and soup,” he said with a soft smile. “Is there anything else you need? We’ll leave you be fore awhile.”
Spock was silent for a moment, considering, eyes tired. “Vulcans,” he said finally, “can have increased healing capabilities when in physical proximity of their bondmates.”
McCoy and Jim shared a look and a knowing smile.
“Is that so?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, then, that settles it,” Jim fit himself in the bed next to Spock, turning on his side and pulling the Vulcan in his arms. “Bones, are you up for a nap?”
McCoy was already lying down before Jim could finish speaking. He rested his head on Spock’s shoulder and laid an arm around his waist.
“Alright…but you better not get me sick.”