Continued thanks for all of your reviews- thank you for taking the time to write them! I appreciate it. I surprisingly felt the need to write more fluff, although it isn't really that happy- I somehow managed to taint this with sadness too, yay! I believe it takes place sometime before Kirk is awoken/brought back to life/ powered up with magic Cumberbatch glitter/ whatever.

After undergoing more testing, the doctors concluded that I still don't own Star Trek.

"Ensign, do you need anything?"

"Da- medicine?" Chekov kept his eyes directed safely towards the ground, willing his face not to turn red. This seemed to happen every time he had to go to sickbay, no matter how simple a request.

"For your headaches?" Dr. McCoy emerged from his own office, wiping off his hands with a towel and looking up and down the boy.

Chekov nodded. Naturally. He loathed the bothersome things, dreadful migraines that struck him occasionally when he was stressed. He had avoided mentioning them when he applied to Starfleet (which may or may not have been against the rules) and managed to hide the first few from his crew. He hated when people worried over him, and preferred not to have to deal with medicine and talk about how he was hurting when all he wanted to do was curl up and think about something other than the constant throbbing in his head.

Spock had deduced that something was wrong after observing Chekov rubbing his forehead for the better part of an hour while they were on bridge duty, leaning over and whispering something in the captain's ear.

"Ensign Chekov, are you alright?" Kirk had asked.

"Yes, sir."

"I doubt it. You look a bit pale, for one thing, and you keep cringing. You can take a break, if you need."

"No, sir, I am fine."

At the end of his shift, he had managed to clench his fists and keep his eyes shut as he walked out of the bridge, walking slowly in a futile attempt to keep the pulsing in his head out of his thoughts. Thankfully, the captain had waited outside the door for Chekov to exit, leaning against the wall and springing to catch the kid as he fell to the ground.

"I knew you were sick."

Chekov mumbled, relaxing in Kirk's grip and moaning slightly as circles of light threw off his vision.

"Let's get you to sickbay."

Of course, once the captain had actually convinced Chekov to talk to Dr. McCoy, there was the slight problem of medicating the issue: Chekov had been blessed with the lovely reality of having an allergic reaction to hypos, so Dr. McCoy needed to rummage through his supplies to find something more primitive: normal pills.

Now, with the captain- with the captain gone, Chekov had put off going to sickbay until his headaches had reached migraine level, reducing him to a sweating, uncomfortable mess by the time that he found the doctor.

McCoy slid open a drawer and shook a container to estimate the amount of its contents. "Dammit, kid, just take the whole bottle. Two every few hours, come back tomorrow. Do you need someone to walk you back to your quarters?"

"Nyet, I'm okay."

"No, you're not. I'll let you go- only because I need to check on the hobgoblin." McCoy shoved the drawer closed and slipped back into his office while Chekov left, skimming his fingers along the walls of the corridor to help his balance. He wasn't sure what the doctor thought he could do- Spock hadn't left his room since he brought Kirk to sickbay, refusing even Uhura's pleas to come out. He was one of the last people who hadn't left the ship and gone down to the Starfleet base- only some bridge members were still on board, to finish securing the ship and checking on everything.

Chekov jumped slightly when he realized he had reached his quarters, tapping in his authorization code a few times before finally being let in and collapsing onto his bed. Why couldn't he think straight? He wanted to cry and snuggle up next to someone. For all of the teasing he got about being a kid, there were a lot of times when he couldn't just act like one.

After a moment of breathing heavily and blinking at the blankets in front of his face, he pulled himself up and fumbled about until he found the bottle under his pillow. He clumsily spun the lid around, making a few unsuccessful turns before squinting at the lid: Childproof. To open, press down and twist clockwise.

He shoved his hand down, spinning it.

No luck, only the sound of plastic grinding together. He pushed harder, twisting the container itself in his hands and shaking it for good measure and mumbling in Russian. Why couldn't he do something so simple? The pills were right in there , teasing him with the promise of relief from his headache- maybe even a bit of sleep!

A minute later, he gave up and chucked the bottle at the wall, glaring as it rolled back to his feet. "Nyet. Stupid medicine. I am not needing you."

The bottle made no response. Chekov leaned over and picked it up, pressing a hand to his forehead as the blood rushed around and flashed more lights in his eyes. He waited until he could stand up straight without feeling dizzy and stumbled out of the room, continuing to shake the bottle and pull off the cap.

After a few more unsuccessful tries, he had resorted to spinning the top counterclockwise, hoping that the directions had been wrong. With a sharp tug, he flew forward and barreled into a tall expanse of arms and legs, knocking both of them to the ground.

"Mr. Spock?" He rolled away as Spock clambered to his knees, steadying himself with a hand on the wall.

"Ensign Chekov, I implore that you please refrain from such distractions in the future and beware of the direction in which you are heading, to prevent further collisions."

"Sorry! Sorry!" He sat up and held his head while another wave of lightheadedness washed over him.

"Are you experiencing more headaches?"

"Da, I-" Chekov grimaced, shuddering as a shiver hit him.

"You require my assistance." Spock automatically leaned over and lifted the boy to his feet, holding onto his shoulders while his knees buckled and letting go once he managed to stay on his feet for a second.

"Much thanks." Chekov glanced up, squinting at the lights of the hallway. Spock was paler than usual (which meant he was literally white) and looked somewhat haggard. His eyes were just a bit off-coloured, his cheeks tinted green.

"I advise that you visit the sickbay."

Chekov nodded, if only because it was closer than his own quarters. "Can- Can you open zhis for me?" He held out the bottle of pills.

Spock raised an eyebrow, but accepted the bottle and twisted the cap, ignoring the boy's wide eyes and impressed smile, shaking out two pills into Chekov's palm.

"Come with me." Chekov pulled at his elbow, tugging him in the direction of the sickbay.

"I had intended to escort you."

"No, Dr. McCoy wanted to see you."

Spock opened his mouth to reply, but paused to steady Chekov as he stumbled, letting the boy lean on his shoulder for the rest of the walk to the sickbay.

Normally, this is what Kirk did.

Chekov thought that Spock was doing well.