Hello everyone! I apologize for the wait, but for those of you who follow me on a regular basis, you'll know that I am painfully slow on updating, so this is nothing new. I am quite pleased with this chapter, as it is basically a rough, one-shot draft. No doubt it could use a little more time cooking, but I am heading out of town for the weekend (4th of July and all) and I wanted to get this posted before I left. Feedback always appreciated- thank you all for your patience and support. XX

Jim struggles in the doorway of his First Officer's Quarters as he attempts to balance both the hefty tray and stack of books currently caught in a battle between his hands and gravity. Lifting one leg to set the tray on, he manages to punch in the override code with one hand- materials precariously clutched in the other - thus granting him access to the room inside. He pads softly inside. In a low voice, he requests the lights be turned up to 40%, setting down the tray and books in the process. Finally he glances over to the bed, and can't help but smile when he does.

Spock is laying in a small ball in the middle of the bed, knees curled up in a fetal position against his chest. The relative silence of the room is repeatedly disrupted as the Vulcan gently snores, mouth slack to make room for the air that he is clearly unable to inhale through his snuffed-up nose. His cheeks are notably flushed, (a truly weird lime green color that Jim can't help but snicker at) but the pained expression from earlier has dissipated into a look of peaceful slumber. He's shivering slightly, so Jim tucks in the blankets around him. He looks relaxed, peaceful. (If Jim has to put an emotion on it, he might even go so far as to say "serene".) It is unusual for Spock to look so human- vulnerable and childlike, and Jim finds it quite refreshing.

And a little bit cute.

Carefully, so as not to awaken the patient, Jim settles down in a chair beside the bed, cracking open a PADD and scanning last months' flight report. Jim slowly sinks lower into the cushions- which are surprisingly comfortable given the "no-nonsense" nature of their owner, reading for what seems like ages, and his eyes are beginning to ache when the being in the bed finally stirs.

"Captain?"

"Hey." Jim sets down his PADD and scoots forward, wincing a little at the pain in his back from his awkward position in the chair. "How are you feeling?"

Spock frowns, eyes glassy and confused. "I do not understand. What are you doing in my quarters?"

Jim shrugs in what he hopes comes off as nonchalance, suddenly unsure of why exactly he is here. Struggling for an explanation, he opts for the factual route. "I sent you off the bridge a few hours ago- you're sick. Had a pretty nasty fever and you practically dropped as soon as I came in to check on you." Jim glances at the time on the PADD. "You've been out for almost three hours."

This information causes Spock to bolt upright, obviously alarmed to discover he has been unproductive for such a long period. However, the motion sparks a rather violent fit of coughing, with Spock desperately clutching one fist to his mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the sound. Jim looks concerned.

"That doesn't sound good." He is suddenly holding a tricorder from the med bay, and holds it up against Spock's neck as the coughing diminishes. Under different circumstances, Spock might have protested, but given his weakened state, the Vulcan manages little more than a disapproving quirk of the mouth. Jim ignores it. The device beeps, and Jim frowns.

"You're definitely feverish."

Spock looks up, eyes watering and voice raspy. "That is indeed accurate, Captain, but I myself could have told you as such." The wry attempt at sarcasm comes off somewhat flat, and Spock coughs again, looking miserable. The sound is dry and (assumably) painful, and the congestion from earlier seems not to have dissipated. Jim's heart goes out to his friend, and begins to move his hand out to rub the Vulcan's back, but then remembers Spock's distaste for physical contact and retracts his hand. If Spock notices the gesture he doesn't comment, and Jim quickly slides into doctor mode, hastily covering the moment of awkwardness.

"Are you nauseous?"

Spock shakes his head, too caught up in dry coughing to bother with a verbal response.

Jim hums. "Well, that's good I suppose. Probably just a cold." He drops the tricorder to the bedside table when Spock finally collects himself.

"A what?"

Jim looks up. "What?" It's unlike Spock to be so vague, and Jim finds this new generality of speech somewhat unnerving.

Spock coughs into his wrist before continuing. "Unless my illness has impaired by mental processing more than I am aware, I believe you said I was suffering from a malady known as the common cold."

"Yes."

"I am afraid that is simply impossible, Captain."

"How's that?"

Spock's face is as collected as ever, but Jim can detect the tiniest hint of alarm in those brown eyes. "Vulcan's simply do not contract such erroneous illnesses. It is impossible." He looks slightly panicked. Jim fights the urge to grin, but ends up doing it anyway.

"Well, lucky for you, the half-human part of you is less resilient when it comes to getting sick. Don't worry though," He adds, because Spock is looking positively horrified; "It's just a cold. You'll be fine in a few days."

This news does virtually nothing to ease the panic in his First Officer's eyes, and Jim softens slightly. "Hey, you're going to be fine. Nothing Bones and I can't handle!" This news is perhaps even less effective in easing Spock's mind, but there is a small mercy in his Captain's understanding of the situation.

"I..." Spock stops and swallows, displeased at the grating sensation this causes in his esophagus. "I have never experienced a cold."

Jim is incredulous. "You've never had a cold? Ever?"

"Never. As Vulcans do not contract said illness, and a generous portion of my life was spent on Vulcan, there have been few opportunities for exposure of said pathogen." Spock sniffles stuffily into his shoulder, and ever goes so far as to rub his nose with his hand, which Jim takes to mean that he must be feeling a lot worse than he's letting on. Still, it's vaguely endearing anyway; watching his stoic, unflappable First Officer sniffle and cough like a five-year-old. Granted, a very sick, bewildered five-year-old who doesn't know what to do about a common cold, but lucky for both of them, Jim has had enough colds and flus for the whole crew, and isn't about to let his friend suffer alone.

"Here." Jim hands over a box of tissues, and Spock takes one gratefully, blowing his nose and coughing. Jim then proceeds to hand over a glass of water (Spock raises an eyebrow at the bendy straw, but doesn't comment on it). It's not until he puts down the tray- laden with a generous bowl of vegetable soup, that Spock looks confused.

"What is this?"

Jim grins. "Soup."

A frown (possibly of distaste). "Of what medicinal value does this soup contain?"

Jim shrugs. "None. But it'll warm you up, and at any rate you need to keep your energy up. Can't have you passing out again."

Spock still looks skeptical, but begrudgingly takes a mouthful, contemplating. He pokes at the bowl with a spoon, as though analyzing its contents. "And what are these?"

Jim peers down. "Noodles. Usually people like chicken noodle soup when they're sick, but the staff reminded me that Vulcans don't eat meat so I had to improvise with the replicator. Is it alright?"

Spock nods, taking another bite. "The meal is quite satisfactory."

Jim smiles, trying not to look too pleased with himself.

"Glad to hear it."

Spock hesitates, mid bite, before looking up. "Thank you." He pauses. "Jim."

Jim smiles again, and lets himself place a hand on Spock's knee, squeezing gently. "Any time."

Thoughts? I realize that it is unlikely Spock is oblivious to what the soup contains, but I liked the idea of exposing some of his blind spots as a character, since it seems logical that a majority of human-esque traditions would be beyond him. Coming from someone who has written far too many Sherlock fics, I always enjoy highlighting some of the vulnerability found in even the strongest of characters, and this seemed appropriate. Obviously the other quirk is this chapter is the lack of plomeek soup, but I was more partial to Jim offering a human dish to Spock, so this happened instead. Comments very much appreciated! XX