Logically, Spock had no reason to rush to the hospital. He had already been informed that his boyfriend, Jim Kirk, was stable and in good condition, and yet he found that he was rushing to be at Jim’s side, nevertheless.

He’d received the somewhat terse message from Jim’s difficult best friend, Leonard McCoy. He’d been forced to finish the course he’d been instructing before he was able to leave.

As soon as Spock stepped through the open door of the hospital room, he felt calmer. More relieved.

Jim sat up in the bed, hair adorably rumpled, a cup of something in his hands. His glance went straight to Spock. His expression brightened immediately and it was all Spock could do not to respond in kind.


McCoy had been standing beside the bed talking to Jim. He frowned at Spock.

“Just a few minutes. He needs rest.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jim said as Spock made it to his side. “Barely a scratch.”

“Doctor McCoy advised you had been struck by a hover car.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “It was a hover cart. You know the kind that the delivery guys use.”

“It knocked him to the ground and he hit his head,” McCoy said. “Got a concussion.”

“It really was nothing.” Jim smiled. “But I’m glad you’re here. Tell Bones I can go home.”

“You’re staying overnight for observation.”

“Oh come on. Spock, tell him it’s nonsense.”

“Now see here—”

Spock touched his fingers to Jim’s. “I bow to the doctor’s judgement, Jim.”

McCoy smiled and bounced up and down. “Well. That’s good then. Just a few minutes.”

And McCoy left them alone.

“You look worried,” Jim said softly.

“I am. Or was. I feel better now.”

“It really was just a small thing. I’ve got a hard head.”

“Hmm. Still I am glad it was not more serious.” Spock sat on the edge of the bed when Jim scooted over. “If you would like to delay—”

“No. No way. We’re leaving on Saturday for Vulcan to meet your parents.”

Spock nodded. “Very well. What is that you have?”

“Bones’ nasty broth. I’d kill for some coffee.”

“How about tea?”

“A milkshake?”


Jim sighed. “Okay. And a cookie.”

Spock’s lips quirked. “And a cookie.” He kissed Jim’s forehead and went to fetch the tea and cookie, letting out the last of his worry and tension as he did so.  

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