“I’m fine you know,” Jim assured Spock as the Vulcan hovered beside his hospital bed.

“You are not fine. You fell down the stairs at headquarters.”

“Like two stairs. I didn’t even break anything.”

“You fell down because you were dizzy,” Spock pointed out. “You should have taken the lift if you were not well.”

“I am well.”

“Actually you’re severely dehydrated,” the Starfleet doctor said from the doorway.

Spock shot him a disgruntled look.

The doctor came in, studying his PADD. “We’re going to give you some fluids to help with that.”

“And then I can go, right?”

The doctor looked up. “I’d like to have you stay overnight for observation, Admiral.”

“And I’d like to have a million credits but—”

“He will stay,” Spock interrupted sharply.

“Spock…”

“You will do as the doctor suggests.”

“And you really need to drink more, sir,” the doctor pointed out. “At your age it’s more important than ever.”

“My age,” Jim reported, blandly.

The doctor nodded. “It’s particularly important for seniors.”

“Get him out of here,” Jim said, looking at Spock.

“I will make sure he stays overnight, Doctor. And that he will drink more.”

The doctor packed up. “There are supplement drinks he can take too. They make them in chocolate, strawberry, vanilla—”

Jim sighed.

The doctor left but Jim was pretty sure he heard a chuckle.

“Idiot young doctors,” he muttered.

“Perhaps his bedside manner needs improvement, but the message is clear. You are not taking care of yourself.”

Jim remained silent at that because he could see that Spock was distressed and trying not to show it.

“I’ll do better,” Jim said, softly.

“Thank you. Now, can I get you an actual ice cream shake instead of one of those supplemental drinks the doctor mentioned?”

Jim grinned. “Chocolate peanut butter. The place on the corner makes ‘em.”

Spock leaned down and kissed him. “Coming right up.”