Obviously I don't own.

If you read any of my other works, don't worry. I'll get back to them. Otherwise, enjoy.

… … .. . .. … …

Peace.

Quiet.

Tranquility.

"Bones!"

Doctor McCoy winced, picking up his communicator with a little sigh. "Damn it Jim. What now?"

"I can't find Spock."

McCoy fought down a snicker at the petulant admission. Glancing up at the Vulcan in front of him, he decided not to bother, and made sure the entire bridge could hear his raucous laughter. Spock arched an eyebrow at him, silently questioning his motives for such laughter. McCoy simply wiped at his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself before he could respond.

"…That wasn't funny." James Kirk hissed into his communicator, ignoring the snickers from his crew.

"I already told you he'd be late to shift since this was the only time I could work in to do his physical."

He could already imagine the sheepish grin on the Captain's face. "Oh. Okay. Send him up when you're done?"

"No shit Jim." He snapped the communicator shut and ignored any further sounds it made. "So far everything looks good. Is there any particular reason you insisted on a physical on such short notice?"

Spock shifted ever so slightly, the Vulcan equivalent of fidgeting. "I have noticed…symptoms of something beyond my knowledge, Doctor."

McCoy's spine straightened and he glanced down at his PADD. Nothing looked wrong. He opened a quick side note to record symptoms and looked up at Spock with an evaluating glint in his eyes.

"What are they?"

Spock shifted again. Nervous? "I…do not know how to describe all of them logically."

Bones eyes widened ever so slightly, but he nodded. "That's okay. Sometimes hyperbole is more accurate anyway."

Spock nodded gently. "My body temperature has fluctuated with in .53 degrees higher than normal over the past 23.68 days. Simultaneously, my heart rate increases by 17.91 percent of average beats per minute. In spite of my natural need for higher temperatures, my body perspires, usually localized to my hands."

McCoy blinked in surprise. For all that he hadn't changed his tone, he hadn't stopped to breath, nearly rushing the information out. He frowned, thinking if anything immediately jumped out at him. It didn't.

"That doesn't sound too illogical." He teased, but his eyes were serious. "Go on."

Spock dropped his eyes to his hands, the tips of his ears turning green. "There has, as of the same time period, been bouts of most unusual sensations. There is often the impression of wingtips brushing against the inside of my stomach at a rate of 25 beats per second. My body tenses as though I were about to fight. My breathing becomes erratic. I…find it occasionally takes me .38 seconds longer to form a coherent thought than usual. I am sporadically lightheaded and… I have been experiencing a near indescribable, dull, burning pain in the area of my heart."

If the first list was too fast, this was definitely too slow. Bones found himself gawking though when he finally spit it out. Keeping a firm thought that Spock's metaphors would be lacking, he had translated as he went. He felt a little burn of amused excitement in his chest, but pushed it down. He needed to check a few things first and then he could gloat and goad and overall be a bad sport.

"Is there any particular place you find this happening more often that others?" He couldn't keep all the amusement from his voice, earning a look from his patient.

"During my work shift and…" He broke eye contact, looking uncomfortable again.

"And?"

"While playing chess in my quarters with the Captain."

Now Bones fell from his seat. A small part of his brain told him to be alarmed. Very alarmed. Instead, he was holding his stomach as he curled in a ball on the floor, laughing so hard no sound came out. Spock had stood immediately and leaned over the shaking doctor.

"Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine." Bones gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to make a few observations. Besides, I need a consult on this."

Spock inclined his head in agreement, but was decidedly put off by the Doctor's strange behavior. He was also concerned that McCoy could not diagnose his problem. Perhaps because his descriptions were not objective enough? Frustration bubbled up at his own limitations.

Still, he followed silently as Bones made his way to the bridge, fighting down a smirk the entire way. It wouldn't do for their resident Vulcan to realize he was being made fun of. Not yet anyway. Oh how he would relish it when he did.

Their combined presence was met with surprised stares and one very concerned Captain.

"What's wrong? Is Spock okay?" Jim's eyes flitted between the two, worry welling up in them more each second.

"He's fine." McCoy smirked, noting the tinge of green dusting the Commander's cheeks.

It was so faint, you wouldn't see it if you weren't looking for it. That confirmed everything. Spock was looking at him now, eyebrow raised, asking for elaboration. He decided it was plausible that McCoy did not wish to alarm the crew until he was sure something was actually wrong.

"Me and the goblin here just got into a bit of a debate about a hypothetical diagnosis and I wanted to consult with Chekov on it."

Now everyone was starting, switching between the three parties in confusion. Chekov's eyes were wide with alarm, and excitement.

Spock lifted his eyebrow, noting the Doctor's lie with some trepidation. "With respect to the ensign's skill, he has no medical training. I find his impute on this matter would be unlikely to help."

Chekov pouted ever so slightly. "I'll do wvhat I can."

"Don't worry Spock. Any human could diagnose this. Even a kid."

"Doctor?" Spock lifted both his eyebrows in disbelief.

The entire crew shifted a bit, looking at him curiously. This was something most of them would know? Spock considered the possibility of his affliction being something standard for humans, but he already knew about the most common human ailments, and was sure his mother would have mentioned something if it had been important.

"Okay." Jim grinned. "Lay it on us."

McCoy's smirk widened. "Symptoms include a racing heart, flushing, and sweaty palms."

Spock tensed, disliking the idea of sharing his problem with the entire crew. They, however, seemed thoughtful.

"Tension and dizziness."

They nodded a long, a few tilting their heads and furrowing their brows as if something had occurred to them.

"Incoherent thoughts and a dull ach in the chest."

A light seemed to dance in most of their eyes as amusement crossed their faces. Most seemed to have already recognized the symptoms and understood their meaning.

"Erratic breathing."

Most of them had started to grin.

"And butterflies in the stomach."

There were giggles and chuckles now. Spock glanced about, noting the way they all seemed to understand the highly abstract description of symptoms.

"All in the presence of one person."

Spock look at him in surprise. That was right, wasn't it? The Captain was always around or just leaving when he experienced the unusual symptoms. The crew was flat out laughing now, clinging to their chairs to keep upright. Spock recognized this as what McCoy was doing earlier and cast a disapproving look his way. The doctor was beaming, proud of himself.

"Well Chekov? What do you think?"

Through his blush and giggles, Chekov pulled a bright smile. "It's lowve."

"Love." Spock repeated, feeling his stomach plummet.

"Sounds about right." Kirk grinned.

Bones was giving him a knowing look, but Spock's head was reeling too much to really notice.

Love.

He was in love.

…With James?

"Impossible." Spock stated clearly, earning surprised looks from the entire crew, who went silent at his declaration.

"No look here you pointy eared devil." Bones grumbled. "That's what the symptoms add up to."

"It is a very human idea that physical maladies can be attributed to an emotional stimulant."

"Oh come on." Jim whined. "You're half human. You mean to tell me you've never thought about love?"

Spock couldn't control the rush of blood to his face, turning him a dark green as he turned on his heel and left the room. Bones cracked up at the immature response, but Kirk looked genuinely hurt.

"Did I do something?"

"Yes." McCoy informed him, but didn't elaborate, heading back to Sickbay.

Jim looked at his crew guiltily, eyes finally falling on Uhura. "Nyota-"

"No."

"Ahem…Uhura could you-"

"No."

"But-"

"No. Captain." She sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Jim pouted. "Why not?"

"Because I can't elicit an emotional response in him." She gave him a dangerous, knowing look which passed right over his head.

"Um…Sulu? Could you…"

"I'll take the Con." He informed with a grin, having caught Uhura's intent.

"Uh. Right. Then…I'll just go figure out what I did this time." Kirk lifted himself from the chair and trudged out the doors, feeling more confused than ever.

When the doors shut behind him, the entire bridge broke out into laughter.

Standing outside Spock's door, Jim shifted awkwardly. He wasn't sure why he figured his commander would be there. Maybe it was just that he had no were else to really go on the ship. He wouldn't be alone in the labs or the gym and Jim had a feeling he wanted to be alone. And here he was, standing outside the door. He knocked quickly, and promptly wished he could take it back.

Before he could run away, which would have been a bad idea, the door slid open to expose his first officer. Spock visibly flinched, mouth falling open ever so slightly. Jim was gawking, eyes settled on the Vulcan's chest. Had he thrown his shirt off the second he got back to his room? Spock quickly sidestepped, letting Kirk in.

Jim's heart skipped a beat at the sound of the door shutting. He turned around to see Spock watching him closely, a decided blush across his features, faint as it was.

"I apologize, Captain. I felt…unwell, and retired to meditate. I was about to begin when you interrupted." Spock glanced at the incense he had just lit.

"Oh. Sorry. I…Yeah. Why aren't you feeling good?" Jim followed his line of sight and focused on the incense, deciding it was lest stressful than meeting his eyes.

"I was…surprised." That sounded right, but felt like it was missing so much.

"Because of what I said?" Jim glanced up slightly, and quickly looked away, catching only sight of his Commander's chest.

Spock gulped, breathing heavily. He had hoped to analyze his reaction, and Dr. McCoy's …diagnosis… before being confronted by his Captain.

"I do not know."

Jim quickly skirted up to his eyes, ignoring his unusual discomfort at the entire situation. "I didn't mean to be an ass. Really. I just meant…well…Vulcans don't…or I didn't think they really did the whole…romantic thing…so that's why it surprised you that we all recognized the symptoms…Bones…listed."

He found it decidedly hard to speak when meeting Spock's eyes, but wasn't about to let his gaze switch somewhere more awkward.

"I too believed Vulcans were not romantic. It seems illogical to be so, and yet."

"And yet?" Shit. Why did his voice waver? He didn't have a reason to be nervous, did he?

"…" Spock glanced apprehensively at the door a moment before returning to look at Jim. "My father told me he married my mother out of love."

They both froze. Jim, because Spock had shared something so personal with him. Spock, because that wasn't what he meant to say. He had intended to tell him about various Vulcan poetry that seemed to hold an entirely different meaning when considering the symptoms. He had planned on mentioning Vulcan music. He planned on something entirely different than what happened.

"Oh." Jim said lamely, the silence too much for him.

"Indeed." Spock found it oddly reassuring that he answered such on instinct.

Reassurance was irrational.

So was love…wasn't it.

"Is love irrational?" His eyes widened as he realized he said that out loud.

Jim stared at him a moment, before he started to smile. Spock's stomach felt like it was doing flips.

"Yes." Jim started to grin at the confused, crestfallen look flitting through his commander's eyes. "It's illogical, isn't it? To want nothing more than to be with one person for the rest of your life? To have someone so engrained in you that it hurts to be away from them? To be willing to risk your life to ensure they were safe, even when your's is worth equal or greater value?"

Spock inhaled sharply. "Indeed."

"To have absolutely no say in who you love, no matter how different they are from you? No matter how illogical a pair you would make? Even if you'd be better off never having laid eyes on them?" He'd taken a step closer, drilled on those black eyes, filled with something human that he couldn't recognize.

"Yes," Spock whispered, voice hoarse, hard.

Jim shuddered. "It's irrational to want something so desperately. And it's something anyone, anywhere, from any planet can feel."

Spock had to fist his hands at his side to keep from drawing his Captain to him. Yes. He wanted all that and more. It was irrational. It was selfish. It was so damn tempting.

"I think every Vulcan must feel it at some point, even if they won't admit it, because there is no way the entire population of your planet could all stay together just for etiquette's sake."

Spock reached out, unable to fully stop himself as he set his fingers against Jim's face. He trembled at the touch, but didn't initiate a mind-meld, shock with his own actions. Jim's eyes were wide, knowing. Spock didn't know how he knew what a mind-meld was, but he did. Jim searched his eyes frantically, freezing when he found what he was looking for.

His eyes widened comically. "You…"

"Jim." His voice shook as he started to retract his hand.

Jim's hand flew up to stop him, pressing his Vulcan's fingers deeper against his meld points. Spock gasped at the sensation, eyes fluttering, barely kept open. Jim wasn't grinning anymore, eyes settled on him with intense seriousness.

"I started this. You had better finish it." His voice was husky, eyes lidded.

Spock gulped, nodding firmly. "Yes Captain."

Jim groaned at the ever so teasing tone. He could hear Spock whispering the words in Vulcan, and he joined in Standard, noting the calculating look he received. Almost immediately he was being cocooned in sensations. His vision went white and he was surrounded with pure essence. Not even emotion, just…Spock.

Spock hissed, tangled in a web that was his Jim. His. He didn't stop to analyze this possessive feeling. It belonged, just as much as the man before him did. He groaned in frustration, disappointed in the limitations of their topical meld. It was just a light brushing of their minds, not really connecting, but touching. He didn't dare go deeper yet.

He pulled his hand back and broke their connection, searching the blue eyes in front of him.

"Shit. That tingled. Like when your leg falls asleep or something."

"Indeed. I find your crude metaphor a rather apt description."

"Do you love me?" Jim whispered, eyes cool, searching.

"Yes." Spock croaked out, his throat feeling unusually dry.

"Is there some kind of rule against that?" He hummed.

"Not that I recall."

"I should have a word with Bones about doctor-patient confidentiality." Jim smirked, stepping a bit closer.

"I feel concern that you have not responded to my confession."

"Well, while we're on the topic of feeling." Jim's eyes danced, a most peculiar phenomenon. "I'm pretty sure I love you."

"Pretty sure?" Spock quirked an eyebrow, but a weight had lifted from inside him.

"Well, I'm light headed, my pulse is racing, I'm flushed, my stomach is doing barrel roles, and I'm having trouble thinking straight." Jim teased.

"It certainly seems that is conclusive evidence of the emotion love. May I inquire who's presence elicits this response?" Spock teased back, a stoic look on his face.

"Hm. No. You'll just have to keep a close eye on me and guess."

"Very well, Captain." Jim twitched at that word, earning a raised eyebrow of amusement. "I suggest we return to the bridge for duty."

"Only if you put a shirt back on. I don't like other people ogling what's mine." Kirk growled, blatantly eyeing his officer's chest.

"I-Indeed." Spock tried unsuccessfully to hide his stutter. "I would also like to make a formal request we send Dr. McCoy a gift of thanks."

Jim started laughing, genuinely surprised that the thought hadn't occurred to him first.

…

"Damn it Jim!" McCoy bellowed, throwing the vase of flowers at the retreating man's head.

Not the brandy though.

… … .. . .. … …

So yeah. These little one shots are pretty fun. Relaxing at least, making up something so very crack-y.