Jim Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise and all around badass, was tired. PADDS littered the young officer's desk, bedside table, and floor. His quarters were bathed in the light from the computer, and short chimes came every few minutes, announcing that he had yet another message to attend to.
The Captain himself was in a bad way. His eyes were weighed down by dark bags, his back ached fiercely, and his face was oily and covered with the result of Jim's neglecting to shave. Prancing around on today's away mission and spending hours working on reports at his desk hadn't helped.
"Dammit Jim," the Captain's CMO, Dr. McCoy, had told him.
"I've said time 'n time again that you need sleep. Real sleep. Not any of those hour-long paperwork sessions you call 'resting.'"
Unfortunately, even the weakest of sleeping pills the doctor had access to were off-limits for Jim. The man was allergic to damn near everything.
Finally, Jim managed to shut down his computer and crawl into his not-well-enough-used bunk. It was high time for a good night's sleep and damn if the Captain didn't deserve one.
After at least fifteen minutes, the word insomnia crept into the Captain's mind. Restless leg syndrome, too. He turned, rolled, kicked, and squirmed, but he found himself nowhere closer to the land of oblivion.
He began to wonder if he had pissed off some god of rest or something.
Jim rolled over once again. Why was sleeping so damned hard to do when it was important? He continued tossing and turning for another hour, never seeming to find a comfortable enough position. Once his legs were nicely placed, his neck started to complain about the angle. When his head was well-situated, his back would protest.
Finally, the perfect spot was found. Kirk, after the prolonged war against his sheets and pillows, finally let himself drift softly away...
Jim came to a sudden realization. He had to pee. Fucking Hell, The man thought to himself. He slowly cracked his eyes open to peer at the chronometer. 0100. Shit.
Jim pried himself from his coverings, rose stiffly from his bunk, and padded carefully to the bathroom that joined his and his first officer's quarters. The door slid open with a short blast of air.
The Captain shuffled across the cool tiled floor and relieved himself.
As he stood in front of the 'fresher, properly reclothed, Jim had a sudden thought.
Spock. Spock's always up around one in the morning. Maybe he can use some of his "Vulcan voodoo" to help me get to sleep. What have I got to lose besides five minutes of my life?
Jim quickly made his way to the door opposite his own. Before he could change his mind, he tapped on Spock's comm unit. Not a moment later, he was buzzed in.
"Spock?" Jim said. "I was wondering if maybe you could- HOLY SHIT."
Jim stopped mid sentence and immediately wrapped his arms around himself. He had just received what he considered to be an overload of sensory input.
There were a few things wrong with this picture. Firstly, instead of being perched on his desk and working on some report or another, Spock was huddled in his bed. Secondly, Spock looked positively miserable. The expression (yes, expression) on his face was nothing less than pure malaise.
Lastly, the quarters were fucking freezing.
They weren't just uncomfortably cool. Not even by human standards, no. These quarters were comparable to Delta Vega.
A tiny, startled sound came from a corner of Spock's bunk.
"G-good evening, Sir." A deep, gravelly voice said quietly.
"Spock. I know your Vulcan physiology is different, but this"-he waved a hand in an exasperated gesture-"is insane."
"I am aware of that, C-captain," said the Vulcan, still managing an attitude despite his discomfort. "However, it appears that some person on this ship believes otherwise."
Spock's head had begun slowly peeking further from the blanket bundle that was Spock. The man's nose and the tips of his ears were beginning to turn a brilliant shade of jade, while his cheeks had a light dusting of emerald across them.
"I c-came out of my meditation when I felt the cold four hours ago. My attempts at resolving the issue were in vain."
Someone had finally stumped Spock? If he weren't so pissed, Jim might offer to shake this person's hand.
The Captain stopped in his thoughts when all of what his First had said reached him.
"You've been like this for four fucking hours? Why didn't you tell me?"
"You know what? Nevermind. Come with me."
The Captain swiftly made his way to Spock's bunk, helped him up, and ushered him through their bathroom and into his own quarters.
"Computer," he barked. "Raise temperature by five degrees."
"Sir, that is not necessary-"
"If you're going to sleep in my bed, I think you can call me Jim."
Spock stood stock-still and looked at his captain with and expression similar to that of a Terran cervine caught in ancient Earth "headlights."
The Captain sighed heavily. It was too damn early in the morning for this.
"Yes, Spock, sharing body heat is the best way I can think of to get you all warmed up. That is, unless you want me to walk you to Sickbay..."
"That will not be necessary." replied the Vulcan a little too quickly, earning a smirk from the Captain.
"That's what I thought. Now, come on."
The Captain, having led his first officer across his own quarters, slid under the sheets of his bunk. After a bit of adjusting to make himself comfortable, he peeled back the covers beside him, looked up at Spock, and waggled his eyebrows.
Although Spock could feel his cheeks heating and the rhythm of his heart elevate, his instinct to warm himself up won. He crawled into the captain's bunk and pulled the covers up to his chin, turning so that his back was to the other man.
That was his first mistake.
A single moment had barely passed before Spock felt the bed shift and a pair of warm hands touched his abdomen. One hand was on his back, rubbing small circles. The other was wrapped around him, pressing flat against his chest. He could feel the heat emanating from his Captain's body.
"Captain?" His voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Jim." the man stated firmly.
"I'm trying to get you back to your boiling hot Vulcan standard temperature."
Spock could feel the Captain smirk even as he began to shift again.
"Maybe it would be best if we huddled for warmth."
Jim punctuated this statement by tugging with the arm around Spock's chest and pushing his own body forward.
Spock shuddered. The only things now separating the Captain's warm body from his own were two thin layers of fabric- their nightclothes.
He had to admit it, though. The strong arms now wrapped around him and covering his chest did soothe the biting cold. Spock could feel his fingertips, nose, and ears begin to return to their usual states.
What a wonder this human is, Spock thought to himself. He sacrifices his own time and body heat to help me. But why?
Spock halted his musings when the contented noise registered.
He lightly grasped the hands covering his chest and whispered loudly.
"Jim? Are you asleep now?"
The Captain quirked one corner of his mouth in response.
"I almost was."
"I see. I apologize for interrupting your sleep. I will refrain from doing so now."
Jim laughed aloud this time, long and melodious.
"That won't be necessary, Mister Spock. I'm tired enough to where I'll probably fall asleep again soon. Just make sure you do the same, okay?"
"Yes sir." the Vulcan said, feigning exasperation at the Captain's sort-of-order.
The Captain playfully swiped at the Commander's head. Then, seemingly on its own accord, his hand stayed put, electing to pet his friend's silky hair. He began to card his fingers through it when he felt the other man relax slightly.
"Jim?" Spock asked tentatively.
Realizing what he was doing, the Captain dropped his hand back to Spock's chest. He felt the heat on his cheeks rising.
"Sorry Spock, I didn't realize-"
"Don't stop." the Vulcan said without thinking.
Jim's eyes widened at the abrupt statement from his friend.
"Ah, w-what I meant was," Spock managed to stammer through his embarrassment at so blatantly sharing what he felt. "It was a rather pleasant sensation, and I would not mind your continuing."
The Captain paused for a moment, contemplating.
"My arm is getting a little tired though. Think we can shift a bit?"
Spock complied as his Captain manouvered their bodies into a new position. As Jim finally settled, Spock took notice of the way in which they were placed.
The Captain had made it to where the two men were essentially hugging while laying down. Their feet were intertwined, and they were so close that each could feel the other's warm breath.
Kirk had one hand resting on Spock's chest while the other went back to its previous job atop Spock's head.
The Vulcan's eyes drooped, and he leaned into the contact, nearly beginning to purr with contentment.
Jim chuckled silently at the endearing image before him. His tall, solemn Vulcan was curled up in front of him, more serene than he had ever seen him.
Spock's breath slowly evened out, his body relaxing. Noticing this, Jim extracted his hand from his hair, moving it to rest on Spock's hip.
The Captain quietly leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Spock's lips. He then settled back onto his pillow, only moving when he heard a small sound to his side.
Jim shot up in bed, his heart pounding, and turned to the other side of his bunk.
Sure enough, Spock was staring up at him, eyes wide, and gaping.
Jim, his heart pounding, backed away from his first officer, nearly falling off of his bunk.
"I'm so sorry, Spock," the Captain said, putting more and more distance between them each moment. "I-I didn't know what I was thinking. Hell, I wasn't thinking."
Spock stood up and began to follow his friend across his quarters.
"It's fine, Spock. I don't expect you to reciprocate or anything, and I promise it won't happen again." He was speaking rapidly at this point, exaggerating his words with quick gestures.
"And I know this is weird but I really can't lose you as a friend. I guess you hate me now, actually. I'll just avoid talking to you whenever I-"
Spock grabbed his Captain by the shoulders and shook him slightly, staring into his eyes. He saw blue eyes, suspiciously moist and now filling with fear.
"Please," Jim squeaked out. "I promise to leave you alone. Please don't hurt m-"
The Captain's words were cut off by warm lips pressing firmly against his own. He stood still for a few moments before he registered what was going on.
Spock was kissing him.
Spock was kissing him!
Barely a moment passed before Jim reciprocated. He placed his hands around the back of the taller man's neck, closed his eyes, and kissed with gusto.
Feeling his friend's compliance, Spock moved his hands to the Captain's hips, reveling in the gasp that was drawn when he pulled their bodies together.
They pulled apart slightly, looking into each other's eyes. Spock's eyes were bright, and the quirk of his lips was nothing compared to the million-watt grin lighting up his beloved's face.
Neither had a chance to speak, however, before Jim decided he hadn't had quite enough. He pulled them together and once again attacked Spock's mouth, receiving no protest from his First.
Moments later, Jim's tongue began tracing the seam of Spock's lips, seeking entrance. The Vulcan enthusiastically allowed the intrusion. Each man abused the other's mouth, nibbling and kissing with bruising force, only breaking away when each had to stop for breath.
They remained that way for what seemed like hours, wrapped tightly in each other's arms. The comfortable silence was interrupted when Jim finally spoke up.
"We should...we should go to bed."
Spock, once again noticing his fatigue, nodded his assent.
They climbed back into the Captain's bunk together, pulling the covers over themselves. Spock scooted over to Jim's side and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a final soft kiss to his lips.
"Jim." he whispered, eyelids beginning to droop. "Ashaya, I have loved you for so long."
A barely audible "I love you too, Spock." reached his ears.
And there, wrapped in each other's warm embrace, the two officers of the Enterprise each slept the most peacefully they ever had.
. . .
The next morning saw the Captain and his first officer enjoying their breakfast together in the mess hall. The two men sat unusually close (and if they were holding hands under the table, nobody noticed). The occasional bark of Jim's delighted laughter could be heard throughout the room, and anyone who cared to look would notice a hint of a smile on their Science officer's face.
The rest of the command staff began to join the two at their table.
Scotty chimed in with a "Why so chipper?"
Dr. McCoy and Uhura merely casted knowing glances towards the pair before turning their attention to their meals. McCoy muttered "finally" under his breath to the amusement of the table.
The last to join were Chekov and Sulu. Each of them avoided eye contact with their commanding officers. They sat down next to each other but made no effort at communication.
"So," McCoy said, breaking the silence. "When did you two lovebirds finally wise up?"
The Captain merely smiled, allowing Spock to answer.
"Last night," he stated with very little fervor "A person aboard this ship, unknown to myself, placed my quarters' temperature at well below freezing. I could not fix the problem, so the Captain allowed me to stay with him."
"And I totally made out with him." Announced a smug Kirk.
"I believe, Ashaya, it was I who 'made out' with you."
Jim simply rolled his eyes in response, not even trying to hide his smile.
Suddenly, a noise was heard from the end of the table. Five officers turned their heads to Chekov and Sulu, who were both shaking furiously, their hands covering their faces.
"Chekov, Sulu, are you guys oka-"
Jim cut himself off as he realized what he was seeing. Two of his command officers were giggling like little school girls.
"Did you" Chekov gasped between fits of laughter. "Did you enjoy your night, Keptin?"
Scotty, McCoy, and Uhura all joined in the laughter.
Jim turned, shocked, to his best friend.
"We have a crew of insubordinates, Mister Spock."
Spock merely quirked and eyebrow and tightened his grip on his love's hand.
This was looking to be a promising mission.