Jim was sure he was dying. He coughed, hoping to get out whatever substance that was burning through his lungs. He hacked until his throat hurt, but still felt like he couldn't breathe. Bones injected him with another hypo, this one to counteract the side effects of the last three.

"Bones…" Jim wheezed. He took another fiery breathe in.

"Jim, don't talk." The Doctor's tone was commanding, but not harsh. Jim nodded and attempted to take another breath. McCoy finally decided to try one final thing. He injected another hypo and Jim promptly passed out.

Jim's mouth felt like cotton and tasted like something had died in there. At least he could breathe normally. He cracked open his eyes, squinting even in the dim lights of his quarters. Jim quickly closed his eyes, but not before noticing someone was in the room with him. He remembered seeing blue. His heart nearly skipped a beat and for one hopeful moment he was sure Spock was checking up on him. He parted his lips to say "Spock," but it came out more like "Spuh." His throat was so dry and he began to cough and wheeze once again.

A warm hand against his back supported him as another offered him a glass of water. Warm hands.

"No, Jim. It's me." Jim nodded as Bones helped him sit up completely. He finished off the water. Bones removed his hand from Jim's back. Hands that were too warm. Jim looked over at his friend, and knew immediately something was wrong. Before he could say anything, Bones cut him off.

"I'm fine Jim. You should get some sleep." Jim, about to retort 'you too,' couldn't quite manage it. Drugged water. There were no depths his Chief Medical Officer wouldn't sink to, especially when he was irritable and overworked. Jim once more slipped into unconsciousness, grateful that it was less painful than with a hypo.

The days passed. The rest of the landing party quickly recovered from the substance they had inhaled. Jim wasn't doing as well as the rest. Bones kept him on meds longer than anyone, and he still woke in the middle of the night trying to hack a lung out.

It was a full week before he was allowed to finally take back command on the bridge and several more days before Spock would play chess with him. And that's all that happened, just chess.

Jim was finally feeling back to his old self, and he wanted Spock. A week ago he thought he was dying. He'd probably been closer to death at some other point, but never had he felt so completely useless for so long. It gave a man a different perspective. He was tired of wasting time.

Finally, Jim saw in Spock's eyes what he was looking for. He could feel the tension in his quarters from the moment his first officer entered the room. Jim didn't exactly try to seduce Spock. It was more like he simply projected his want, his need, and hoped Spock would pick up on it.

Apparently it worked.

Jim wanted to stay awake. He wanted Spock to stay. But as he lay in Spock's arms and his first officer stroked back his hair or brushed his finger's along his cheek, Jim couldn't keep his eyes open. He began to drift and was soon asleep. He had a brief, horrible thought before he slipped into oblivion that perhaps Spock wanted him asleep so he could finally leave.

When Jim next woke, it was not because his alarm was going off. The only light in the room was the strip under the door coming from the hallway. That little bit of light was all he needed to see that Spock was still with him. Jim's mind flashed back to the last time he was with Spock. When he woke that morning and the sheets were still warm.

Jim didn't know whether it was the lingering effects of the drugs or whether he has simply willed himself awake. But he was awake. And Spock was still there, staring at Jim with wide eyes. Jim wanted to say something, anything to his first officer.

He couldn't believe Spock was here. Spock was still in bed with him. Spock had been watching him sleep. Spock didn't want to leave. He never wanted to leave.

Jim could see it all now. Spock thought he didn't want him here. Jim silently cursed himself for not saying anything. This whole time and he thought Spock wanted to leave, that Spock didn't want to get attached. But staring into his eyes now, Jim knew better. Spock almost looked like a deer in headlights, or a small child getting caught doing something he shouldn't have.

Jim still couldn't say anything. He had a tightness in his throat, quite similar to his allergic reactions to most medicines. Spock slowly began to sit up, never taking his eyes of Jim's face. For his part, Jim felt paralyzed, unable to move, unable to speak. He slowly began to fill with dread.

If Spock left now, he would never come back.

Spock started to slip from the bed and grab his clothes. Finally, Jim felt something release inside him.

"Don't go."

It was hardly more than a whisper, but it echoed throughout Jim's quarters. Spock hesitated. Jim could see the tension in his back. Finally, his first officer slowly began to turn around, disbelief clear on his face. If Jim hadn't felt so desperate at the moment, he would have found the expression amusing.

Jim eased himself into a sitting position. He reached out and gently slid his fingers along Spock's jaw.

"Don't go," he repeated, smiling gently when Spock nodded and eased himself back under the blankets. Jim immediately moved so he was resting in Spock's arms.

When he woke in the morning, it was to blissful warmth.

A/N: And done!!! Sorry this took so long. There was moving and a lack of internet involved. I really do think this is going to be all for the story. It's pretty obvious what's going on in Spock's mind and all that. Thank you to everyone who had the patience to wait it out for a third chapter And as always, thank you to everyone who reviewed, alterted or favorited this story. It was more than I ever imagined. I hope you all liked the fluffy ending!