Author's Note: THIS IS CROSSPOSTED TO AO3. (Okay good, now that that's out of the way...) There will be graphic descriptions of vomiting and illness, some smutty content in later chapters, M/M, and one character suffers from the delirium of a high fever. Officially this a hurt/comfort, Spirk, sick!fic where Jim Kirk's Issues have Issues. Why? Because a few months ago I got violently ill after taking care of a sick baby and then eating a truly disgusting meal (it tasted delicious going down but in hindsight...), and this was how I made myself feel better. Also, I really just like Jim Kirk being a big ball of sad and hurt and vulnerable. And now I'm sharing this with you!

So enjoy, drop a comment, and keep an eye out for updates! :)

Jim wasn't sure what woke him at first. He checked his chonometer on the panel near his bed and found that he was awake nearly two hours earlier than he needed to be; there were three hours still until he had to be on alpha shift. His esophagus burned. A bout of acid reflux maybe?

He had decided to try that gift of violently purple alcohol from the Rutellelan Queen-Mother last night, given to him at the end of his stay on Rutellel Prime as he represented Starfleet and the Federation during a second-contact peace feast. Though the bottle was small, no less than the equivalent of two shots in the tear-drop shaped vial, it had packed a serious punch. It had been lightly sweet and obscenely thick, though it had the sensation of melting on his tongue as he sipped it.

Jim had barely drank a third of the bottle before it hit him. Suddenly finding it hard to focus his gaze as all the colors in his quarters seemed more vibrant, he had reclined on the tiny couch on the other side of his sleeping partition. It was part of the perks of being captain of a starship - a bedroom space containing a double bed, his closet full of clothes, a small table with drawers, and in the main area a small loveseat, a desk, a low table, a chair, and his own food replicator. All that and the option of water showers in the fresher he shared with his XO and a divided room.

So he had happily lounged on his loveseat, legs thrown over one arm, and let his mind float. Until he was hungry, craving fruit like he hadn't eaten in… Like that time when… The hunger had prompted him to get up and replicated himself a platter of as many fruits he could think of. His balance had been weirdly unaffected as there was zero dizziness even as his head felt pleasantly floaty. With the fruit on the table, he had sipped a bit more of the purple alcohol and eaten every bit on the plate before stripping down to his underwear and passing out in his bed.

Waking up now, maybe it had been a bad idea. His esophagus burned all the way up into his throat and his stomach churned as he shifted to the edge of the bed. He swallowed thickly several times, hoping he wouldn't puke. It was the worst hangover ever, minus any throbbing pain in his head. Sitting up fully had his gut clenching and twisting, a valid threat. Jim swallowed back rising bile, breathing heavily through the nausea. He really had to piss. He needed to be able to make it to the head without puking.

A cramp twisted around his intestines and he stumbled up and toward the fresher. Fuck. If this was the hangover, he'd never touch Rutellelan alcohol ever again.