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It was logical, of course, that a simple misunderstanding between two parties would often result in considerably more work than mutual open hostility. Hostility generally offered two options: attack, and/or defend from the other party's attack. A simple misunderstanding, however, might mean endless explanations, arguments, evidence brought forth to support one's good will, recompense, and any number of other things - and yet still might involve attacking or defending.
In this case it had. Shots had been fired before they had had the chance to hail the unknown vessel, fortunately with no fatalities resulting before Uhura had managed to open a channel, and Kirk was wise enough to negotiate rather than retaliate. In a show of good faith, he had beamed over to the other ship with a small, unarmed escort to prove they came as friends, not conquerors.
That had been more than ten hours past. Spock, left in charge in the captain's absence, had no reason to believe he was in danger; Kirk had checked in regularly to inform them that there had indeed been a case of mistaken identity, and to request data from the ship's computers regarding incidents that had taken place years ago, before the current incarnation of the Enterprise had even existed. Spock readily relayed the information, while also helping Mr. Scott coordinate repairs to the damaged portions of the ship, making a record of the entire encounter for Starfleet just in case diplomacy did not work, and occasionally checking in with Dr. McCoy in sickbay, where he was tending to those who had been wounded in the brief attack.
Approximately eleven hours after the captain's departure, he contacted the Enterprise again to say that it was cleared up - their new friends had assured them that there would be no further attack, and as a matter of fact wished to offer help repairing the damage that they had caused. Even so, they were an unknown, and the command crew knew better than to let their guard down so easily. Where there had been one misunderstanding, there might be another.
It was approximately fourteen and one quarter hours later before the damage had been repaired, the injured had been sufficiently cared for, and the captain was back on the bridge, bidding the aliens farewell with still more assurances that no permanent harm was done, and that if they should encounter a Federation ship again, there would be no retribution. As soon as the image on the main screen had turned from the interior of the alien vessel to a view of the vessel turning to continue on its way, Kirk called down to engineering, congratulating Mr. Scott on a job well done and telling him and his team to get some rest.
"You too, Spock," he added, turning towards the science station as a new course was plotted. "That alert woke me out of a sound sleep - how long have you been on the bridge now?"
"Approximately twenty hours and thirty-five minutes," Spock replied.
Kirk winced. "And most of that time in command. I'm quite certain your shift is over by now."
If he had been in the habit of admitting such things, Spock would have admitted that it was a relief. He was mentally capable of seeing to many tasks at once, and emotionally was better prepared for precarious situations such as these, compared to the otherwise human crew. However, Jim was his friend, and more; the hours that the captain had spent aboard an alien vessel that had just fired upon them, despite the frequent updates that expressed nothing worrisome whatsoever, had been... uncomfortable. He would indeed have welcomed the opportunity to lie down and close his eyes, relaxing in the knowledge that the ship - and Jim - was safe.
However, as Jim was his friend, and more, it was not difficult for Spock to see the telltale signs that Jim was just as exhausted as he - the droop at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the slump in his shoulders. "With all due respect, captain," Spock began, coming to stand behind the captain's chair, "Vulcans are able to go without sleep when it is necessary. Humans, on the other hand, may wear down more easily, particularly when under a great deal of stress. If you would like to return to your quarters, I can continue for some time yet."
"Out of the question, Mr. Spock," Jim told him, turning to look up with a small, teasing smirk. "You've performed well beyond your duties today already. You're relieved."
On the bridge, there was to be no personal conversation, and their exchanges must remain on a professionally appropriate level. Spock simply rested his hand on Jim's shoulder, his fingers stroking over the tense, broad muscles beneath the gold fabric for only a brief moment, just long enough for Jim to notice. I am relieved. "Very well, captain," Spock agreed, as Jim's smirk softened to a fond smile.
---
There was another to consider, however, before Spock went to his quarters. Although the initial reports and the periodic updates that followed had mentioned no life-threatening injuries, the attack had been unexpected, with no preparation; there had been a great many injuries in general among the crew. It was twelve hours after the attack that the doctor had reported all was clear, and he was just standing by "in case anything else blows up in our faces before this is over with".
He was still standing by, in fact, when Spock arrived in sickbay. The doctor was nursing a glass of something that was most likely alcoholic, but he was clearly not impaired, for his eyes were bright and his gaze sharp when he looked up. "Something I can do for you, Spock, or did you just come to say hello?"
Odd - Dr. McCoy had standards for personal conduct in sickbay just as Spock and the captain did on the bridge, and generally he would not drink when... Spock glanced around and realized that there were no patients present. "Are you the only one here, doctor?"
"Not since you showed up," McCoy told him with a sly raise of his eyebrow.
"You had reported," Spock clarified, "that there were a few head injury cases that you wanted to keep under observation."
"Just for a couple of hours," McCoy explained. "And that was over ten hours ago. I let them go a while back."
Spock nodded; that was logical. "Then you no longer have any patients to attend to?"
McCoy shook his head, setting down the glass. "If you're wondering why I'm still here, it's easy - you think I can spend hours and hours treating fractures and sprains and so on, and then just go back to sleep? It's going to take me a little time to wind down, now that I know everything's back to normal."
"That is logical," Spock agreed. For a human, anyhow - they had notoriously poor control over their emotional progression. "Your dedication has shown itself today; I wished to congratulate you on a job well done."
McCoy chuckled. "Is that all?"
He was looking up, waiting. Spock knew what he was waiting for, naturally - what Dr. McCoy always wanted out of him, despite the fact that it had been so hard for him to give at first. "...I might also add," he continued, "that although I heard your voice frequently, it was... unusual... to not see each other at all during such a long and eventful day as this."
"Rather than being so evasive about it," McCoy pointed out, "you could just say that you missed me." But his correction this time wasn't irritable, just amused, now that he knew Spock was at least willing to make an effort.
Spock therefore did not confirm or deny, but merely continued as he took a step closer, and McCoy rose from his seat. "It was... reassuring," Spock said, offering his hand, "to have regular updates from you and the captain."
McCoy nodded, his smile taking on an almost wistful expression as he touched Spock's fingertips lightly with his own. "Thanks for keeping me updated on Jim."
"I would have been remiss in my duties had I not," Spock noted.
"That's not exactly the first officer's job..."
"Those are not the duties to which I refer, Leonard." Spock didn't think he had to spell it out; he hoped he didn't. He was still uncomfortable with voicing such things aloud.
Fortunately, McCoy had other things on his mind. "You're still tense," he observed, drawing his hand back, only to gesture at the glass and the bottle sitting beside it. "Sure you don't want a little of this?"
"I would receive no benefit," Spock reminded him, "and I find the taste repulsive."
"Just checking."
There was another reason he had come to see Dr. McCoy, besides simply wanting to see him, and Spock supposed he should ask soon, before the alcohol made Leonard groggy as was its intended purpose. "I assume you will be returning to your quarters shortly."
"Unless you've got a good reason for me to go somewhere else," McCoy replied, picking up the glass and taking another sip.
"I had intended to return to mine," Spock said. "Seeing as the captain has relieved me of my post."
That casual smile on Leonard's face quickly fell into the even more familiar scowl. "He 'relieved' you?" Spock nodded. "After all that?" Spock nodded again. "I see," McCoy muttered, and took a longer drink from the glass before setting it down and capping the bottle, putting it back inside one of his cabinets. "Well, don't worry, Spock - I know what to do about that."
"I am well aware," Spock told him with another nod, this one appreciative. As he had anticipated, Leonard knew precisely what he meant. "You would have my gratitude."
"Heh." McCoy rested a hand on Spock's arm on his way past. "Get some rest, Spock. Doctor's orders apply to you too."
"I will be sure to do so," Spock agreed. Now that that was taken care of.
---
Despite the fact that both Jim and Leonard had advised him to rest, less than one quarter hour after Spock had lain down, someone buzzed at his door. He was not asleep yet, but approaching that point steadily via concentration on relaxation of his biological rhythms - his breathing, his heart rate - and therefore the noise startled him wide awake. It seemed unlikely there would be trouble at this point in time, unless they were somehow unfortunate enough to encounter two unexpected vessels within a twenty-four hour period, but seeing as there was no reason besides an emergency that someone might disturb him, he sat up at once and granted entry.
He was not surprised at all to see Jim enter. "Captain, is there-"
"Nothing you need to get up for, Spock," Jim replied, fixing him with a serious look, arms folded over his chest. Even though, Spock observed, he'd already changed into his nightclothes - and Dr. McCoy was right behind, keeping an eye on him. "I just wanted to let you know - I know you're responsible for setting Bones on me." Spock remained seated as requested, but raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to deny it now, are you?" Jim continued.
Though his expression was stern, it was too stern, and his posture belied it; Spock could tell that tone was for show. He merely shrugged. "If it is wrong for a first officer to be concerned for the health of his captain..."
"Don't play innocent with me, mister," Jim mock-lectured him, the beginnings of a smile starting to show at one corner of his mouth. "If you're going to get me sent to bed, then it's only fair I turn it right back around on you."
Spock was slightly confused. "As you can see, I was already-"
"Lie down already, Spock," McCoy told him, looking quite smug. "Since you went to all the trouble of looking after me and Jim, we thought we'd show you a little appreciation."
"...All of us are fatigued," Spock reminded them as they approached his bed, having a feeling he knew what they had in mind - and although he would not object under ordinary circumstances, he was tired, and the two of them were likely more so. "Perhaps tomorrow."
"Yes, we are fatigued," Jim agreed, sitting down next to Spock and dropping an arm around his back, as McCoy went around the other side, turning back the sheets. "Which is why it's the perfect night for this."
"Didn't I tell you to lie down, Spock?" McCoy repeated, having adjusted the pillows.
Resigned, Spock did as he was told. Although he was tired, he did have remarkable stamina, and if the two of them were energetic enough...
However, to his surprise, once he was horizontal, each of them simply moved in on either side, reaching an arm over the top of him. Hugging him, from both directions, and sighing contentedly.
Spock waited, and after several long moments wherein nothing changed but minute differences in their positions, tilted his head in bewilderment. "May I ask what the two of you are attempting to do?"
"It's called cuddling," McCoy mumbled, his mouth crooked against Spock's shoulder.
"Or snuggling," Jim added. His eyes were closed, and he smiled, his head resting against the opposite shoulder. "There are other Terran words for this activity, but those are the most common."
The two of them were just... lying there on either side of him. Occasionally one of them would shift slightly, to get more comfortable. Jim had managed to work an arm under Spock's neck, along the pillow, and Leonard had wrapped an arm around Spock's waist, pulling him closer.
Spock simply lay there, pondering the activity and staring up at the ceiling. It did not seem to be erotic, merely invasive of his personal space. "What purpose does this serve?" he asked.
"Dammit, Spock," McCoy growled. "Does everything have to have a purpose? Can't something just be nice?"
"The purpose," Jim informed him, "is to provide comfort. Cuddling, or snuggling, is just a way to be close to someone. To feel that closeness, that warmth..."
Spock raised an eyebrow at the ceiling. "It does make me feel something," he admitted.
"Oh?" McCoy actually raised his head to look, no doubt eager to hear his admission.
"It makes me feel quite absurd," Spock told them. "And very awkward."
"Maybe if you'd take part instead of lying there like a fallen log, you'd get the idea," McCoy muttered, dropping his head back where it had been as Jim laughed softly in Spock's ear.
Jim's hand rested on Leonard's arm now too, on top of him, and Spock could feel Leonard's smile as he wriggled closer still to the two of them, nuzzling at Spock's shoulder almost unconsciously. It was like the doctor were some sort of... large, warm... affectionate...
...Spock hadn't thought of I-Chaya for a very long time.
Now that Spock was thinking of his childhood pet, other memories from his youth returned, from when he was very young. He remembered his mother, when the other children troubled him... Though he tried never to show that he was troubled, she had always known somehow. This... non-sexual holding and touching had been something which she believed, at the least, to be a comfort, though he learned to resist it.
But mostly, at the moment, he was reminded of I-Chaya. The contented hum coming from Jim, nearly a purr, might have had something to do with it. Encouraged and somewhat intrigued by the thought, he worked an arm free from his side, where it was nearly pinned beneath Leonard, and reached over to stroke Jim's back, as if he were petting the old sehlat. The hum grew louder, and Spock nearly smiled before he caught himself.
"Now you're getting the idea," Jim murmured. "This isn't so bad, is it?"
"Perhaps not," Spock admitted, displacing Jim slightly as he freed his other arm, which wouldn't have to reach so far to stroke Jim's back if he simply placed it beneath Jim's shoulder.
And that left the first arm he'd freed to slip beneath Leonard's neck, urging Leonard to roll over nearly on top of him, head resting on Spock's shoulder with a sigh. "Even if your technique's poor," McCoy remarked, "at least you're warm."
So were they, if not so warm as he; with Jim curled up against him, Leonard sprawled almost on top of him, it was a bit like using his friends as a blanket. ...A blanket which was rather uneven, and somewhat heavy, but the affection that radiated from them enveloped Spock quite comfortably, even if they did not.
"...Thanks for having my back today, Spock," Jim murmured, his voice already drowsy and fading.
"It was... no trouble." His voice, too, seemed strangely distant even to his own ears.
McCoy seemed to notice the same thing. "Night, you two," he muttered against Spock's collarbone.
"G'night, Bones."
"Good night, Leonard. And you also, Jim," Spock added.
Though he couldn't see Jim's smile, he could feel it, and the words came out as a yawn. "Night, Spock."
After the day they'd had, the two humans on top of Spock were nearly asleep within a few minutes. Spock could have been as well, but he lay awake for a short while longer, considering this... snuggling.
When he was sure the two of them were too close to unconsciousness to notice, he let himself give in to the urge to snuggle both of them closer.