This will be a collection of connected One Shots, depicting the various ways Spock gets himself into all sorts of dumb and painful situations. Some will be funny, some will be a bit sad, but I'm a sucker for happy endings. (Yes, I am still working on Threaded, I just wanted something a little less plot-driven to work on, too!)

Please excuse any errors you find, I wrote this after a very long study session and just could not be bothered to try and find every single mistake.

Enjoy!

Om'toi

Chapter 1: Labyrinthine Righting Reflex

If one were to ask Jim Kirk whether or not one Mr Spock was to be considered graceful, he would not hesitate to agree. After all, there were not many instances Jim could recall in which his First Officer had been anything other than the definition of utter composure. Every single one of Spock's action was executed with utmost precision. But, even without said collectedness, even when angered to the point of snarling, Spock had never once suffered from one of the many verbal and physical malfunctions the rest of the crew tended to fall victim to when furious or embarrassed.

Standing at the base of a large, tree-like plant, Jim watched his First Officer scale the twisting structure with relative ease.

Due to a rather unfortunate encounter with a herd of large, aggressive herbivores a mere ten minutes into the exploration of their latest planetary discovery, they had become separated from the landing party's campsite. This would not have been too much of an issue, had their communicators been working. But, it appeared standard issue communicators were not sturdy enough to survive a reckless dive into foreign waters to escape a dozen artiodactyl.

Wiping at the drying locks stuck to his forehead, Jim gave Spock's blue uniform shirt another twist, wringing the excess water from the thick fabric. Spock had deemed it prudent to remove the garment before making his way up the tree, the material woven just a hint too tightly to allow for a comfortable tree-climbing experience. Brows furrowing, Jim directed his gaze skywards once more, noting Spock had reached one of the uppermost branches of the gnarled tree.

"Spock!" Jim called out. "Status?"

"I believe there may be a storm coming within the next hour, Captain, there appears to be a cumulonimbus to the east," Spock replied. "We do not appear to be too far from the campsite, however, I am able to see the colourful cliff structure you took note of when we beamed down."

"That's good," Jim sighed. "Alright, let's find some shelter and then we'll see if we can figure out how to get back to the camp without getting trampled by some second-hand reindeer."

"Indeed."

"Alright, then, get down from there, Mr Spock, if you please, we have a shelter to find."

"Yes, Captain."

Spock descended the tree with as much skill as he had climbed it. Until the branch he reached for to stabilise himself snapped clean in two. With a terrified shout stuck in his throat, Jim took a stumbling step forward, as if his fragile human body would be enough to prevent Spock's imminent collision with the unforgiving ground.

In the end, there was no collision.

Spock twisted in mid-air, the movement a blurred undulation, and landed in a low crouch just a few metres from where Jim was standing. For a moment, neither of them stirred. Then Spock stood and brushed his black thermal shirt back into order, as if he had not seconds ago been in danger of shattering his spine.

"What the fuck," Jim blurted. "What the fuck was that?"

Spock lifted his eyes to meet Jim's, one eyebrow inching towards his hairline. "Captain?"

"That! You- how did you do that?"

"…As you are aware, the Modern Vulcan descended from a creature similar to Earth's felines. This perceived similarity is not based on the appearance of our ancestors, but on the internal structure of various organs and muscle groups. While the Modern Vulcan does not possess all of said characteristics, some have remained, including the… gas'rak'ik tvisek," Spock said, after a moment of hesitation.

While Jim's repertoire in regards to Vulcan's various, regional dialects was by far not as extensive as Uhura's, he was more than fluent in ShiKahrian Vuhlkansu. Sheer luck had been at work when said dialect turned out to be the one Spock had grown up speaking, allowing Jim an interesting insight into his First Officer's amusing quirks. An example being the extensive repertoire of Vulcan swear words Spock had amassed in his twenty-seven years of life. Or, the amount of times Spock would hide behind his mother tongue to avoid having to explain something he was uncomfortable with during the Alpha bridge crew's bi-weekly get-togethers.

For someone who insisted on being in control of his emotions at all times, Spock was incredibly easy to embarrass.

"Wait, wait." A grin began to tug at the corners of Jim's mouth. "Are you trying to tell me the age-old saying 'cats always land on their feet' is actually applicable to not only cats, but also Vulcans?"

"While it is not true felines always land on their feet, and neither do Vulcans as you have no doubt been made aware of on numerous occasions, it is a fact that the labyrinthine righting reflex, as you call it, is present in both Vulcans and Terran cats."

Jim snorted, turning his head to the side to hide the growing flush of red spreading across his cheeks as he attempted to suppress a rather unbecoming guffaw. Chancing a glance at his First Officer's face, Jim knew it had been a mistake as soon as he took in the indignant glare Spock directed at him. Laughter spilled from Jim's mouth before he could so much as duck his head, the force of it all almost enough to topple him over.

After a whole two minutes of straight out laughing at his First Officer's pinched expression, Jim straightened up and held the crinkled blue uniform shirt out towards Spock as a meagre peace offering. "Hah… sorry, Spock. It's… heh… sorry. That was unprofessional of me."

"Quite," Spock replied, moving closer and tugging the shirt from Jim's grasp. "We should head north. I believe we will be able to find shelter within the forest there."

"Sounds good," Jim agreed, clearing his throat of the last vestiges of laughter.

Side by side, they made their way towards the forested area in the distance, ever careful not to alert whatever fauna lurked in their vicinity. In addition, the flatland they traversed over was made up of brittle rock interspaced by patches of high grass, making their journey somewhat tedious.

As they walked, the twin suns began their descent, their combined light just enough to keep the planet at a comfortable temperature of 24 degrees Celsius during the day. Within the hour, the air had grown just a little bit colder, the vanishing sunlight's warmth weakening by the minute. When they reached the edge of the forest, the shadows had lengthened and their surroundings had been tinted with the tangerine glow of the setting suns.

Jim was unsure what he had expected. The trees, tall and winding, grew in small clusters of five and were settled far enough apart for a hover car to pass between the grouped trunks. Settling his hands onto his hips, Jim surveyed the sparse approximation of a forest. "These trees aren't going to be much of a shelter once the rain hits, are they?"

Spock inclined his head. "Indeed, Captain. Perhaps we should attempt to find an empty cavern within the rock formation to our left, instead, to lessen the possibility of being surprised by any of the larger examples of local fauna."

"Probably for the best."

Parallel to the curving edge of the forest they walked, the ground growing more and more treacherous with every step they took. Sharp rocks protruded from the dry earth, growing larger in size as they approached their destination. Soon, the ground began to tilt, growing steeper as it merged into the jagged rock structure growing skyward from the earth and before long, they were forced to climb. The wind picked up, bringing along the scent of wet foliage and soaked dirt. It would not be long before the rain Spock had predicted rolled in.

"There appears to be cavern 25.4 metres to your left, Captain," Spock announced.

"Alright," Jim gasped, grimacing as he heaved himself onto the next higher rock protrusion to get closer to their destination. "Let's hope nothing big enough to eat us made its home in there."

Spock settled upon the small platform beside him, "Indeed. If you would allow me to go first, Captain, I would be able to assist your climb towards the cavern with my superior strength and height. It would also quicken our pace considerably."

"Are you trying to say I'm too short, Mr Spock?"

"I implied no such thing, Captain. However, you have, indeed, not reached the height I have, and thus- oh, guv'i-!"

Jim had barely registered Spock's rough swear, when the Vulcan went tumbling backwards off the small platform they had only just settled on. This time, there was no graceful twisting motion, no acrobatic manoeuvring, nothing but a mindless flail followed by the sound of Spock's body slamming into the unforgiving rock. Spock's unbidden descent did not stop there, his limp form rolling a good thirty metres downhill before a large boulder intercepted Spock's path bringing the Vulcan to an abrupt and painful halt.

Despite the initial spike of fear which had threatened to paralyse him, Jim had forced himself to move, vaulting off the platform after his wayward First Officer. Sheer luck and determination kept Jim from taking a nosedive down the same jagged route Spock had unwillingly traversed. When Jim finally reached Spock, the Vulcan was just beginning to stir. Dropping to his knees beside the bruised mess of sprawled limbs and torn fabric Spock presented, Jim reached out to cup his First Officer's face between both palms.

"Spock?" Jim urged. "You with me?"

"Seeing as you are capable of touching me, it can be surmised that I am, indeed, with you, Captain," Spock muttered, emerald green tongue flicking out to lick at the blood oozing from his split lip.

"Guess you're sort of okay, if you're still able to sass your superior officer," Jim groused, a relieved grin straining at his cheeks. "You think you can get up?"

"If you would permit me a moment to regain my bearings, Captain, I believe I will be able to do as you have asked in 2.3 minutes."

"Alright, take your time, Spock. Good thing you're are so sturdy. I'd probably be mush if that happened to me." Glancing up at the darkening sky, Jim began to grow restless with each passing second.

It seemed like an eternity went by before Spock shifted onto his side and made to sit up, only to freeze as a low, guttural sound of pain oozed out from behind his gritted teeth. In an instant, Jim was on high alert, eyes wide as he touched a careful hand to Spock's chest, the one place where no obvious tears had damaged the uniform. Gaze sweeping over Spock's prone figure, Jim saw what he had overlooked the first time around.

The torn sleeve covering Spock's right arm exposed an unnatural curve to the lower portion of the limb, indicating a break. The skin was already mottled by shades of green, ringed by rusty orange and disconcerting yellow. Unable to keep a grimace at bay, Jim scooted around Spock to assess the damage further. "Fuck, that's definitely a broken arm. We need to splint this…"

Trailing off, Jim pulled the miniscule med kit from his belt. It was a little banged up, but despite this, activated without complaint, revealing a roll of bandages, soaked on one side, a rolled-up splint, and a tube of disinfectant. Setting the items aside, Jim met Spock's gaze. "I need to set your arm. It's going hurt."

"I am well aware, Captain," Spock grit out. "Please, proceed."

Head dipping in a jagged nod, Jim grasped onto Spock's arm and applied firm pressure. A rasping keen vibrated through Spock's chest, his legs shifting as Jim coaxed the misaligned bone back into its proper position. Or as close as Jim could manage, considering his limited knowledge in basic trauma care.

It took about a minute to nudge Spock's bone into place, and another two to secure the splint. By the time Jim was finished, he felt somewhat faint, his hands shaking with the ebb of the adrenaline cursing through his body. Spock lay prone beside him, eyes shut and his chest heaving with every ragged breath he took.

"This should hold until we get back to the Enterprise," Jim croaked.

Spock grunted, head twitching in what Jim assumed was a nod, and pushed himself upright with some effort. "Captain, I am uncertain whether I will be able to reach the cavern in my current state. It would be prudent to find shelter close by, if possible."

Jim reached out and wrapped his arm around Spock's back. "I saw a pretty large rock overhang over to the left. It's not a cave, but it's protected on one side and might be enough to keep us dry for the time being. Think you'll be able to walk?"

Spock moved first his left, then his right leg before replying, "Neither of my legs appears to bear any significant injuries, Captain. I am certain I will be able to walk with your assistance."

"Alright. Let's get going, then."

Together they stood and made their way towards their designated shelter. Their journey did not take as long as Jim had anticipated, leaving them with some daylight so spare as they did their best to get comfortable within the crescent-shaped cavity. Dry moss covered the ground in large patches, providing some insulation against the cold rock, and Jim hoped their now-dry uniforms would be enough to stave off the worst of the coming night's chill.

"How long do you think it'll take the crew to find us?" Jim asked, his eyes darting about their surroundings as the sky grew ever darker.

"I am certain they have contacted the Enterprise by now, Captain. Mr Scott has yet to disappoint in his ability to retrieve crewmembers from the most perilous of situations and I am positive he will manage to pin-point our location in due time." Spock's voice, though steady, was strained and it was clear he was in considerable pain.

"You're right," Jim said and they both fell silent.

Over the course of the next hour, the temperature dropped steadily and the air began to fill with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, clicks and hisses riding along the stiff breeze. Despite the unfamiliar noises and the uncomfortable environment, Jim found himself growing tired and soon struggled to keep awake. In the end, Jim lost the fight, dozing off to the sound of Spock's steady breathing and the distant thunder.

Upon waking, Jim noted the first of the twin suns had begun to peek above the horizon, painting their little hollow with warm gold. Unwilling to move, Jim waited for the rest of his mind and body to wake, grimacing at the shrill cries of what might be birds piercing the early morning atmosphere. Spock lay beside Jim, curled around his splinted arm and one uninjured finger hooked into a hole within the sleeve of Jim's shirt. It was quite endearing, though the picturesque scene was ruined by the various bruises and scrapes mottling Spock's body.

Stretching his legs, Jim sat up, careful not to jostle the arm Spock was inadvertently holding onto. The ground outside their little haven was still wet from what must have been a heavy rain storm, and Jim was surprised he had slept through it all. After all, living on a starship surrounded by the dangers of space did not promote for a healthy sleep cycle, no matter how much Jim tried to convince Bones of the opposite.

A rough voice broke through Jim's musings. "Captain!"

Twisting where he sat, Jim felt a wave of crushing relief wash over him at the sight of Lieutenant Hendorff clambering towards them. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Lieutenant."

"I can imagine. Dr McCoy's been throwing a fit since we alerted Commander Scott about the situation," Hendorff snorted, sliding into a crouch beside Jim, the expression falling away the moment his eyes landed on Spock's unmoving form. "What happened?"

"We tried to climb up towards one of the caves to find some shelter. Spock took an unexpected tumble and broke his arm. He didn't say if anything else was broken, and I'm a little concerned that he hasn't woken up, yet." Reaching out, Jim grasped onto Spock's shoulder and gave it a tender shake. "Spock?"

No response. Spock continued breathing, slow and without even the slightest of twitches indicating him growing closer to wakefulness. Disturbed, Jim met Hendorff's narrowed gaze, "This doesn't seem normal."

"Let's hope he's out cold, and if he's not, McCoy will know what to do," Hendorff replied, plucking his communicator from his belt and flicking it open. "Lieutenant Herndorff to Enterprise."

"Chekov here, sir. Have you found the Captain and Commander Spock?"

"Yes, we need an immediate beam-up and have a medical team ready, Commander Spock's been injured."

Chekov's voice rose in pitch, as it tended to when caught off guard. "Aye, sir! Commander Scott says to prepare for beam-up in two minutes."

"Roger that, Hendorff out."

It did not take a whole two minutes before Jim felt the familiar tingle of the transporter beam. The second they had materialised upon the beaming pad, Spock was heaved onto a stretcher and carted off. Jim was ushered onto the second stretcher and – for once – did not argue. Bones was always more forthcoming with information if Jim behaved and cooperated, after all.

A good hour went by before Jim was given any information on Spock's status, during which he was given a number of hypos in addition to dermal-regenerative treatments to heal the scrapes covering his hands and knees. Accompanying all this was a very thorough lecture regarding the dangers of exploring unknown planets by oneself. Still, Jim continued to be a model patient, and before long, Bones ran out of steam.

"How's Spock?" Jim asked, once Bones had fallen silent and stepped away to observe the readings displayed on the screen fixed to the biobed. "He wouldn't wake up, is he-"

"Spock's fine." Bones waved his hand through the air in a vague gesture. "Fell into a mild version of one of those healing trances. Woke up when we started the bone knitter on his arm."

Jim slid his legs off the biobed, eyes wide. "He's awake?"

"Yes, and you're keeping your ass parked until I give you the go-ahead on annoying your Vulcan, understand?"

"Yes, Bones," Jim groaned, slumping sideways against the stacked pillows. "You can be so awful sometimes, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah, love you, too, kid," Bones grumbled, tapping his fingers against the railing of the bed. "Alright, everything looks good, you're a little dehydrated, but that was to be expected. I'll get you something to drink and then I'll take you to your hobgoblin. If he's asleep again, please, don't wake him up. He's as bad as you when it comes to getting some actual rest."

"Will do," Jim chirped, accepting the large glass of water Bones thrust at his face.

Just five minutes later, Jim was sat beside Spock's biobed, relieved to find his First Officer not only awake, but also quite coherent. Though seeing the always proper Spock sans shirt and dressed in a pair of Starfleet-issue sweatpants, did make for a very unusual sight. Jim did not think he had ever seen Spock in such a state of undress before. It was rather refreshing.

"How're you doing, Spock?" Jim asked, once he had gotten comfortable in the chair Bones had dragged beside Spock's biobed for Jim to sit in.

Spock's eyebrows twitched upwards. "I am quite well, Captain. However, Dr McCoy has, unreasonably, banned me from returning to my duties for forty-eight hours, despite me informing him it would not take longer than 26.6 hours for my arm to regain proper mobility after the osteo-regenerator treatment. May I inquire as to your own health, Captain?"

"I'm sure Bones loved to hear you call his decision 'unreasonable'." Jim shook his head with a chuckle. "I'm fine. Just a little scraped up, it's all fine now. Want to tell me how you ended up taking a nosedive like that?"

"As I did not fall facing forward, one cannot classify my fall as a 'nosedive', Jim."

"Spock." Jim smiled.

"The reason I fell is simple, Jim. I lost balance."

"The last time you lost your balance, you landed on your feet, Spock."

Spock's eyes narrowed a fraction. "There was not enough time for me to react, Jim."

Jim nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Guess cats really don't always land on their feet, huh?"

"I am not a cat, Jim."

"Of course, Spock."