Title: Vulcan Pride and Human Logic

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. It would be nice, though...

Summary: The flu can be something more than an annoyance, even for a Vulcan trained to ignore such trifles. Kirk understands this and does the logical thing. Tries to help Spock forget that he feels terrible.

A/N: Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed. There should be at least one or two more chapters after this one. I know this is short, but I'll try to make up for it next time.

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2100 hours rolled around slowly. Too slowly for Jim, who was waiting for his chance to kick his Vulcan friend's ass at chess. Normally a game of chess would have done very little to interest the captain, who was a man of action, but it was always a bit more interesting when Spock played. The fun thing about playing with Spock was watching him think. Chess, while just a pastime to Kirk, was something not to be taken lightly for the Vulcan. Jim always felt he could see the circuits working overtime in his brain.

"You have the bridge, Mr. Sulu." Jim was already out of his chair before Sulu could reply. Before he went to Spock's quarters, he stopped by the dining hall for a large bowl of vegetable and rice soup, only lightly seasoned; as Vulcan food was known for it's bland flavor. After a quick drop by sick bay to ask Bones what else his sick first officer would need, Jim stood outside Spock's door, arms laden with the soup, some water, pain killers, and, if the need arose, an extra blanket.

Spock looked up from the PADD he'd been trying to read when the door chimed. His head throbbed almost incessantly but he wasn't focusing on the pain. Or, rather, he was trying not to focus on the pain. "Come." His voice was stuffy almost to the point of being comical. He closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. Had he known he was going to sound this way, he was sure he would not have told Jim he'd be allowed to join him for chess. Spock stood and straightened his body into its perfect posture, and pulled at his casual shirt, removing all wrinkles that may have accumulated.

Kirk took in the sight of the tissues scattered around the floor of the desk and the bed in faint surprise. The quarters were normally so tidy that one would think on one lived in them. Seeing them like this would have been enough to tell him that the occupant wasn't fully himself. Then his gaze settled on Spock. He was standing at near-attention, but looked as if he would welcome the chance to collapse into the near-by arm chair and an unhealthy greenish flush tinged his cheeks. If Kirk had known less about Vulcan anatomy, he'd have been afraid that Spock was going to be sick any second. As it was, the flush told him that the fever was higher than it had been earlier that day. Kirk twitched an eyebrow in a way that eerily resembled Spock's way of conveying skepticism. "Sit down before you fall down, Spock." He set down his arm load and sighed. The quarters, while normally unusually warm, were stifling. He wondered why McCoy had even suggested the extra blanket, until he caught his first officer eying it as if it were the most wondrous thing he'd ever laid eyes on. "I didn't bring it into this sauna for my use. Take it."

"Thank you, Captain." Spock set it on his bed to use when Jim had safely left the room and he didn't have to be necessarily proper. "Computer, raise temperature by two degrees."

"Belay that order, Computer. Spock, I brought you that thing for you to use. I'm not going to say anything if you wear it now. Besides, I think you wearing a blanket around yourself would be much less offensive to all involved than me sweating to death."

Well when he put it the way. Spock wrapped the blanket around his thin shoulders and sat down at his small table. The chess board had already been set up. "Would you care to have a seat, Captain?"

Jim nodded and sat down, but didn't seem to want to start playing right away. His concerned eyes were still skimming over Spock's already pallid body, checking for anything else that could be off. He had to bite his lip to keep from grinning at the slightly greenish, chapped nose, although, in and of itself, the fact that it was already over-abused and raw was not the slightest bit amusing. But the fact that Vulcan's noses turned green when they were overly wiped was. A mental image of what cold and flu season must have looked like on Vulcan flashed quickly through his mind, causing him to almost laugh. Jim squelched the laugh by handing Spock the large soup bowl and a spoon. "Here, dinner first, then we can enjoy our evening." He pulled out a chicken salad sandwich from a package Spock had failed to see before.

"Thank you, Jim. However, I am unsure that it would be wise for me to finish all this, as my stomach seems to be a bit on the upset side." There was no true regret in the first officer's voice, but it did shake ever so imperceptibly, as if the queasiness he confessed to was more prominent than he wished to let on, which, in fact, was the case.

Kirk nodded in complete kindness and understanding. "Just eat what you can, Mr. Spock. I'm not gonna be offended if you don't want my soup. God knows I've been sick like that before."

Spock took a few spoonfuls of the soup before setting it down and reaching for one of the many tissue boxes he had so logically set up around the key points in his quarters. He sneezed rapidly and violently into them, the fit leaving him feeling weak and drained.

Kirk looked away, wanting to give his friend some pretense of privacy, at any rate. When Spock had finished and cleared his nose firmly, the young captain turned back. "Well, I'd ask if you were feeling any better, but I think I just got my answer. Did Bones tell you how long this virus holds on to people?"

Spock sighed. "Indeed. Without going into too deep of detail as to his insults upon my species, it would appear that, had I inherited my mother's iron based blood, I would not be as inconvenienced as I am presently. According to Dr. McCoy, this strain of virus seems to thrive in copper based blood, such as my own." His face was impassive, his voice cool and collected, but he was unable to keep just the barest hint of annoyance from his shadowed eyes. "It is most… disheartening."

Jim didn't smile, or even feel the need to do so. Spock looked more miserable than he knew it was possible for him to look, and he felt oddly honored. The fact that the very private man trusted him enough to let his guard down and show him that he was, indeed, something more than uncomfortable was humbling. "Do you need me to grab you anything else?"

"No, thank you, Captain." It was enough that he was there, honestly. With Uhura on emergency leave to deal with her own family illness, Spock had readied himself to struggle through this alone. Not, of course, that he needed anyone to assist him, at any rate. He pushed his bowl to the side, not wanting to even look at it right then. "As you are my guest, I should ask if there is anything you require." Spock braced his hands on the arms of his chair, ready to push himself up, should Kirk tell him that he needed or wanted anything.

"Spock, I'm not here as your guest, I'm here as your friend. There's a big difference. Friends get their own crap. They also get crap for friends who don't feel too good. You want some water? It should have stayed cold."

Spock shivered. "Thank you, no, Jim. I think the last thing I would like is a beverage that would make me colder than I already am." He stopped talking, a slight frown of thought playing between his eyebrows. "However, I would not say no to some hot tea, if it would be most convenient for you."

"Hot tea, you got it." Kirk was on his feet and facing Spock's food processor. "Hot tea, with lemon and honey."

Spock glanced up at him. "With respect, I don't take sweetener in my tea."

"It's not for sweetening your tea, Spock, it's for your throat. An old Earth remedy, you could call it. It actually tastes pretty bad, if that makes you feel any better."

"Vulcans don't actually want their food to taste bad, whatever you think."

"I think you could have fooled me. I've seen, smelled and yes, actually tasted the shit you people pass as food."

"A difference in taste does not actually make the food bad, Jim." Spock sipped the tea and closed his eyes appreciatively. "For example, this is not as bad as you claim."

"Vulcan for saying he likes it." Kirk thought to himself ruefully. His eyes turned concerned again when his friend fairly dropped his cup and started to cough deeply. On impulse, Jim was at his side, his hand resting lightly on Spock's arm. Had the man been McCoy or any of his human companions, he would have patted and rubbed his back, while muttering nonsense words of comfort to them As it was, he was at a loss. Finally, not caring if the Vulcan took offense or not, Kirk rubbed the thin back lightly, his touch growing firmer when Spock didn't pull away. Kirk kept one hand on Spock's back, and held the cooled container of water out with the other. "I know it's cold, but it'll help."

Spock sipped it without protest this time, allowing the water to sooth his aching throat. "Thank you." He finally managed, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders.

"No problem." Jim took the thanks to mean for both the water, and the physical comfort, of which neither of them would ever speak. "So, you still up for that game?"

Spock nodded. "Please, I find that when my mind is active, every other aspect of my person falls into the background."

Kirk grinned. "Yeah, I guess focusing on something else when I'm sick makes me feel better, too."

TBC