Today’s prompt was Hurt/Comfort.

It was a day like any other and it was stupid to think or feel otherwise. There was nothing special about it. Okay, well, there was to Jim. But not to anyone else. And most especially not Spock. In fact he’d think it was absurdly illogical for Jim to put any importance on it at all.

So Jim had vowed to keep his remembrance of what day it was completely to himself. Silently he held a little reverence for it but that was it.

And anyway, as days went, it ended up pretty much sucking.

He’d been sitting on the bridge for a couple of hours before he first started feeling horrible. It started out with his stomach twisting painfully and then turned into a terrible nausciousness. By the time Bones notified him that Ensign Martell had brought back the Dorivian Flu from shore leave, Jim knew he was in trouble.

He’d tried to ignore his ever worsening condition. Tried to hide it from those around him. But of course he couldn’t fool his first officer.


Jim blinked rapidly and barely resisted running his hand over his face. He licked his lips. “Yeah?”

“You are ill.”

“No. No. No. I’m fine.”

Spock arched a brow. “You most certainly are not.”

“Seriously, babe, I’m fine.” Jim winced. He never called Spock an endearment on the bridge and Spock knew it.

Spock hit the comm. “Spock to sickbay.”

“McCoy here.”

“The captain has the flu.”

“I do not,” Jim protested.

“Bring the idiot here. McCoy out.”

Jim sighed and stood up and immediately fell into his first officer’s arms.


“You’re an idiot,” Bones grumbled as he helped Jim into his bed in his quarters.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You should have reported feeling sick earlier. Now I don’t have any beds.”

“Suits me fine, I don’t wanna lie around the morgue.”

“It’s sickbay.”

Jim made a face as Bones fluffed up his pillows and pushed him against them. “Same thing.”

“Not at all.” Bones stood back, hands on his hips. “I think you’ll live.”

“This isn’t going to infect Spock, is it?”

“Nah, they’re practically immune to everything. He’ll be fine. And it’s not like he’d stay away from you even if I told him to.”

Jim smiled faintly. Even now he could feel a slight warm buzz in the back of his mind where his bond with Spock was.

“Spit it out.”


“You look all mopey.”

Jim scowled. “I’m sick.”

“Yeah, I know. But there’s something else.” Bones give him his best sympathetic look, which, of course, worked every time.

“It’s stupid,” Jim admitted.

“I’m sure it is. But what?”

Jim stuck his mottled tongue out at Bones. “Today’s…our anniversary.”

Bones frowned. “What anniversary? You only got bonded three months ago.”

“Not that. Um. It was a year ago, um, you know.”


Bones.” Jim gritted his teeth. “The first time.”

“The first time what?”

Jim made a strangled noise.

Bones laughed. “I totally knew what you meant. I was playing with you.”


“Sorry to spoil your fun, Jim, but no sex today. Probably not for a week or so.”

“A week?”

“Believe me, you won’t even want it.”

The door to his quarters opened and Spock stepped in.

“Your shift over?” Jim asked.

“Indeed.” His gaze flicked to Bones.

“Yeah, he’s fine. I was just leaving. Bed rest, Jim, for forty eight hours. Seventy two off duty.”


“Don’t I look serious?” Bones walked out without another word.

Jim pouted. Spock didn’t seem to notice. He walked up to the top of the bed and re-fluffed Jim’s pillows the way he liked them fluffed.

“Thanks, babe,” Jim said with a smile.

“You are very pale.”

“I feel like crap,” Jim admitted.

“You should not have waited to advise me of your difficulties.”

There was definitely admonishment there.

“It came on all of a sudden.” Jim sighed. “I never really had much contact with Martell.”

“You are sensitive to any ailments or allergens. He was probably on the same deck as you.”

“Funny.” Jim huffed.

“Are you hungry, ashayam?”

“A little I guess. Bones says I can have broth.”

Spock nodded. “I am aware. He sent me a list of limitations.” Spock went and fetched him broth from the replicator and then returned with it.

Vegetable broth, Jim noted dryly.

Spock sat on the edge of the bed. “You are agitated.”

“Well.” Jim shrugged as he took a sip of the broth. “I hate being incapacitated.”

“I know.” Spock reached for Jim’s hand. “And on our anniversary.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “You-you know about that?”

“We share our minds, ashal-veh,” Spock reminded him gently. “But you are correct.”


“You are illogical.”

Jim laughed. “I love you so much.”

Spock’s lips curved ever so slightly. “I reciprocate.”