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“A... A... Atchooo! Sorry, Spock, I – Agxch! – I know it’s my tu-u-ugnxch!” Jim hastily pulled a tissue from under his tunic to catch the last sneeze, before taking another hitching breath – no, he could fight it, it would not overtake him aga – “Achgnxgch!” Sniffling, Jim wiped his nose, then put the tissue away and placed his king…
...in a rather awkward position, Spock realized. He kept his hands patiently on his lap as he looked over the three-dimensional chess board at his opponent. “Are you not feeling well, Jim?”
“Oh, I'm fine,” Jim said. He waved his hand as if he wanted to ward off yet another itch like an annoying fly, but when that obviously did nothing, he squinted his eyes and jerked forward “Iiiiigxch!” with his shoulders hopping.
“You sneeze noticeably often.”
“I do?” Jim plucked the used tissue from his tunic and blew his nose. It didn't seem to have much effect, because his voice still sounded heavily congested. “It's just the dry, dusty air in your room.”
“You haven't had any problems before. Besides – ”
“Then it's just bothering me today.”
“That would be extremely illogical, because – ”
“Spock, you know my medical file; what’s written on its top and no, I'm not talking about my personal data.”
“Your allergies,” Spock said, nodding. “But that does not explain why you are suddenly reacting to something that did not cause you any problems before.”
“It actually does explain my hypersensitivity issue. I'm allergic to the impossible.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am pretty sure Doctor McCoy can give a medical explanation why you are – ”
“He does not know why I’m allergic to things that statistically only 0.1 percent of the whole galaxy's population are allergic to. No one figured it out yet, probably something went horrible wrong with my genetics, or I don’t know…” Jim shrugged. “… I just keep believing in my theory of being allergic against the most impossible.”
“Well, regardless of how you are calling it, it is impossible that you – ”
“That’s what I’m saying – Impossible!”
“ – are allergic to the ‘dusty, dry air’ of this room.”
“What?”
“Every time you come to visit, I increase the humidity and turn down the temperature to a level comfortable for human beings.”
“Ah, so, that’s why I’m so cold.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. For him, his room felt just as chilly as the rest of the Enterprise. “You’re cold? I can raise the temperature a few degrees if you prefer.”
“What’s the current one?”
“Twenty-point-four-six.”
“Leave it. I’m not that cold.”
Spock allowed himself an irritated blink. “Jim, you are – ”
“What?” Jim wrapped his arm around his shivering body, hunching over as if that would not make his discomfort even more obvious. “Can we please focus on the game?”
“I suggest we keep the focus of the conversation on you for a little while longer.”
Jim groaned. “Spock, I'm really fi-i-ihhhgxch!” A fine mist rained down on the second level of the three-dimensional chessboard. Jim wiped away the thread of mucus under his nose with the used tissue, which was beginning to look more like a rag, and stared down at the finely sprayed surface as if he didn't know what to do with himself.
“Jim – ”
“It’s your turn, Spock.”
“I am giving you the opportunity to change your previous move.”
“Why? It’s good. My king stay there.”
“Jim...”
“What is it, Spock?”
Spock put his hands together the way ahe always did when he gathered his concentration. He propped his arms on the tabletop and leaned forward. “Checkmate,” he announced in a tone that almost sounded dramatic.
“Huh? But you didn’t...” Jim blinked. For the first time, he seemed to notice the board. “Damn, how...”
“I should have pointed out to you that your move was invalid, but I was too interested in how you would react to your mistake to say anything.”
“I put myself in checkmate,” Jim said with a bewilderment as if he had invited a Klingon and a Romulan onto his ship at the same time. “Damn it, I...” Jim lowered his head onto his hand and massaged his temple as the rest of his words faded into a prolonged sigh.
“You are having a headache, right?”
“What gave me away?”
“Your moves today are – ”
“I'm playing badly.”
“ – not as adequate as usual. You lack focus and your usual wit. Your tactical skill is not up to – ”
“I am playing badly, you don't have to sugarcoat it.
“I am not 'sugarcoating' it. These are just my observations.”
“So, you observed me playing badly.”
Spock didn't allow himself to nod, but couldn't fully suppress a sigh. “Jim...”
Jim rose up from his chair, hands on the table. “No, stop, I don't want this to turn into an argument. See, I’m really sorry, Spock. I’m well aware you’re looking for a nice challenge, someone who could keep up with you and… I just shouldn’t have come today.”
“Why?” Spock stood up as well, hastily reaching out for Jim’s arm, hesitating, before lightly playing a hand on his shoulder. Jim looked away, refusing to answer. “Obviously, I am always looking for an intellectual challenge, especially with you. But sometimes – and that is something I learned only recently – the experience itself can be quite… fascinating. I am positive that my evening would not have been the same if you had not come.”
“You’re doing it again – sugarcoating.”
“No,” Spock said. “I am merely trying to tell you in my own way that I am finding something pleasurable in our activities together, even if it is unexpected and not entirely logical.”
“I've lost three times, made pretty much every rookie mistake and wasted an hour of your time sitting in front of you like a sniffling, shivering mess. And you're telling me you still had fun?”
“I did not use the word 'fun', but basically your assumption is correct, with the correction that you 'did not waste my time.’”
For a moment, Jim looked embarrassed, a blush spreading on his cheeks. Spock took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and pressed the back of his hand to Jim's forehead. It was unusually warm. “I think you have a fever.”
Jim leaned forward, his head coming to rest on Spock's chest. “I do feel kind of bad. I’m still sorry, though.”
“There really is no reason to.”
“Shouldn’t have come here sick, but I wanted to…” Jim sniffled, burying his face deeper into Spock’s shirt, his words now coming muffled. “… to see you, spend some time with you. You always make me feel better.” Spock carefully wrapped his arms around Jim, but Jim was already pulling away from him. “And here I am, doing things you don’t like.”
“Why do you assume I am opposed?”
“I guess I just assumed…” Jim stared ahead, his gaze somewhat dazed, looking like he was going to be swept off his feet by a wave. Spock put his arm around him and led him to his bed, where Jim dropped onto the edge.
Spock retrieved the temperature scanner from Jim's emergency bag, but Jim waved him away, doing it himself. It didn't take a second for the result to flash up on the small screen. “37.9. It's not that bad.”
“But the chills indicate that it seems to be getting worse.” Spock threw a thin blanket over Jim's shoulder and, to his satisfaction, Jim snuggled into it. “Shall I notify McCoy?”
“Because of a stupid cold? That would make two people whose time I'm wasting.”
“You're not wasting anyone's time, Jim. Your health is important.”
“I know, I know. I just don't want him to come at me again with 'You're not looking after yourself well enough', I'm trying! It's just...”
“It's not your fault, Jim.” Spock knelt down, holding Jim's shoulder to meet him at eye level. “I understand you. Can I keep you with me for tonight?”
“You don't have to take care of me.”
“That is not what I was implying.”
“Huh?” Jim looked up at him with feverish eyes.
Spock pushed him down, until Jim’s head met the pillow, arranging the blanket over him. Then he put a box of tissues down for him and made him a hot cup of chamomile tea at the replicator.
“You’re taking care of me!” Jim protested, pulling out two or three tissues out of the box to sneeze into them, followed by furious blowing.
“Considering your medical history, you do need special attention, and I happen to be free this evening and early morning.” Spock placed the cup on the nightstand and sat down next to him in the traditional Vulcan way that Sulu had once called ‘very Japanese.’ “I assume you want to rest.”
“Yeah, I do. Though I wasn’t expecting your bed. You don’t mind?”
“As long as you do not mind me joining.”
“You don’t really want to sleep next to me when I'm sick. I snore, I’m restless, and I'll probably wake up at some point because of a bad coughing fit.”
“Sounds like an interesting experience,” Spock said. “Besides, I would be right there if it turned into an actual attack. I think I want to sleep by your side tonight.”
“And here I was trying to talk you out of it.”
“Why?”
“Because I really want to have you by my side.”
Spock raised an eyebrow.
Jim laughed hoarsely. “Yeah, we humans are fascinatingly contradictory, aren't we? We want one thing and yet say another.”
“Indeed. Apparently, I have more to learn about you than I thought.”
“Then I hope you learn a lot about humans this evening.”
“Probably just about this one impossible human, Jim.”