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browngirlTitle: Cuddle Therapy: Five Cuddles In Sickbay
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Pairings: Gaila/Uhura, Kyle/Riley, Chekov/Sulu, Spock/Uhura, Kirk/McCoy.
Summary/Prompt: Crawling into bed with injured/sick friend/lover.
Content Advisory: Mild-to-the-point-of-uncertainty het, slash, and femslash; cuddles.
All Thanks To:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lomedet for encouraging me to write to my muse and 6street for getting me into Kyle/Riley.
Author's Note: This is rather a trifle, or rather, five little trifles. So I thought they'd be good for a Monday.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.
*+*+*
Gaila is crying, very quietly, tears running from the corners of her closed eyes, her uninjured hand folded tightly around Nyota's, the entire left side of her body immobilized and padded. "This sucks," she says, voice hoarse and smile watery, and Nyota squeezes her hand a little harder. "I've got thirteen hours left until I can move, Dr. T'Paral says, and this all just -- hurts."
Nyota nods, uselessly, helplessly. "What do you need?"
Gaila tugs her hand a little, her breath hitching, and snuffles. Nyota wipes her eyes for her with two fingers. "To feel something that doesn't hurt."
Nyota glances down the ward, but no medical personnel are in sight. Without letting go of Gaila's hand she turns and pulls the curtains shut around Gaila's bed, slides off her boots, and climbs onto the bed. Gaila smiles and sobs, tilting her head towards Nyota, and she lays her forehead against Gaila's and her arm across her waist. "Does that help?"
"Lots and lots," Gaila sighs. Nyota kisses her cheek and smiles.
*+*+*
At first McCoy thinks it's exhaustion-induced double vision, but no, there are two skinny bodies on that blanket-covered biobed, even if only one head shows a blond thatch of hair. Who does Riley think he's fooling, he grumps silently as he strides over, prepared to pry the Lieutenant off John Kyle, who's still in serious condition.
But, as McCoy stands by Kyle's bedside, the readouts confirm the judgement of his trained eyes; the patient's somewhat pinker, breathing evenly, condition overall improved. McCoy eases the blanket down a little, enough to see Riley's sleep-slack face pressed to Kyle's shoulder and Kyle's hand wrapped around his wrist.
So he snorts quietly, pulls the blanket back up, and leaves them there. He'll roust Riley out at 0600.
*+*+*
Hikaru jerks awake, shivering and confused. Where is he? On his back, lying on something firm but giving, warm arms around him. He reaches up, or tries to, but his arm doesn't work, his fingers tingle, his chest's weighed down --
he looks up as the boulder blots out the light, tumbling towards him, Kirk and Benah shout and it hits and everything goes dark--
"Hikaru!" Pavel's breath warm on his ear, Pavel's excited whisper. "You are conscious!"
"Hey." Hikaru croaks. His mouth is incredibly dry. "Uh, I can't see."
"Your eyes are taped, is all. They are undamaged. Doctor McCoy expects you will recover completely." Pavel kisses Hikaru lightly, his mouth trembling despite his cheerful tone. "Would you like to see?"
"Of course I want to see you," His non-dominant hand works, at least, and he folds it up awkwardly, finding Pavel's arm, running his fingers over the uniform sleeve. "How long have you been here?"
"Not long," Pavel says too blithely to be true. "Let me?" Fingertips skim Hikaru's forehead, then tape peels from his eyelids. His eyes are seriously crusty, lashes gluey, but he blinks them open, and Pavel's face is a fuzzy dim patchwork of brown and pink and blue close beside him.
Fuzzy and fuzzier. Hikaru can't keep his eyes open. "Hey, Pavel," he mumbles as he goes under again, too fast to catch the reply, but Pavel's got him, he can relax.
*+*+*
"Comatose?" Christine asks, looking terribly worried, but Nyota just pats her arm and walks to the biobed. She's not worried. Afraid, of course, but she knows exactly what to do.
Spock lies absolutely still but for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, his skin as pale and translucent as cast wax. Nyota lays her hand on his cheek for a moment, but nothing stirs beneath her palm. Not yet.
"Give me a hand?" she asks, and Christine does, spotting her as she climbs in beside Spock, keeping that hand on his cheek and laying the other over his heart.
"You okay?" Christine asks, and Nyota nods; with a warm touch on her shoulder, Christine moves away. Nyota tucks her head beneath Spock's chin, her forehead against his neck, closes her eyes, and directs her thoughts. She's not a Vulcan, but she knows this one.
I am with you, she tells him. Hear me and return to me. I am with you.
*+*+*
"You," Bones says levelly as he takes Jim's pulse with warm strong fingers, "are an idiot."
"Hi," Jim answers dizzily. He thinks he's smiling. The room is spinning, and there's a sort of sensation all over his body that would probably be pain if he weren't so thoroughly drugged. "Whee," he adds after a moment.
Bones shakes his head, sets down Jim's lax hand and folds his arms. He's not spinning, even though the room is. Jim is definitely smiling, because he's looking at Bones. "Hi, Bones."
"So brilliant, so goddamn stupid," Bones mutters, and Jim can see that rumble wavering through the air. He laughs and shuts his eyes and feels himself float in the middle of the spinny room, the spinning galaxy, barely tethered by the insubstantial weight of pain.
Eventually, Jim gets a little heavier, floats back down, starts to hurt. Groaning, he blinks; the light is dim, red around the edges, the ceiling shadowed. A hypo hits his neck, and he doesn't really have energy for more than a token wince.
Besides, Jim can apply the saved energy to hiking his eyebrows as Bones sighs deeply and then climbs into the biobed with him. "Need a nap?" he manages to mumble.
"Shut up," Bones mutters, draping himself like a warm blanket all along Jim's side, a strong arm across his chest, long sturdy legs tucked beside his. "Go back to sleep." He kisses Jim's temple and sets their foreheads together, and before Jim can come up with a smartassed reply he falls asleep smiling.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Pairings: Gaila/Uhura, Kyle/Riley, Chekov/Sulu, Spock/Uhura, Kirk/McCoy.
Summary/Prompt: Crawling into bed with injured/sick friend/lover.
Content Advisory: Mild-to-the-point-of-uncertainty het, slash, and femslash; cuddles.
All Thanks To:
lomedet for encouraging me to write to my muse and 6street for getting me into Kyle/Riley.Author's Note: This is rather a trifle, or rather, five little trifles. So I thought they'd be good for a Monday.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.
Gaila is crying, very quietly, tears running from the corners of her closed eyes, her uninjured hand folded tightly around Nyota's, the entire left side of her body immobilized and padded. "This sucks," she says, voice hoarse and smile watery, and Nyota squeezes her hand a little harder. "I've got thirteen hours left until I can move, Dr. T'Paral says, and this all just -- hurts."
Nyota nods, uselessly, helplessly. "What do you need?"
Gaila tugs her hand a little, her breath hitching, and snuffles. Nyota wipes her eyes for her with two fingers. "To feel something that doesn't hurt."
Nyota glances down the ward, but no medical personnel are in sight. Without letting go of Gaila's hand she turns and pulls the curtains shut around Gaila's bed, slides off her boots, and climbs onto the bed. Gaila smiles and sobs, tilting her head towards Nyota, and she lays her forehead against Gaila's and her arm across her waist. "Does that help?"
"Lots and lots," Gaila sighs. Nyota kisses her cheek and smiles.
At first McCoy thinks it's exhaustion-induced double vision, but no, there are two skinny bodies on that blanket-covered biobed, even if only one head shows a blond thatch of hair. Who does Riley think he's fooling, he grumps silently as he strides over, prepared to pry the Lieutenant off John Kyle, who's still in serious condition.
But, as McCoy stands by Kyle's bedside, the readouts confirm the judgement of his trained eyes; the patient's somewhat pinker, breathing evenly, condition overall improved. McCoy eases the blanket down a little, enough to see Riley's sleep-slack face pressed to Kyle's shoulder and Kyle's hand wrapped around his wrist.
So he snorts quietly, pulls the blanket back up, and leaves them there. He'll roust Riley out at 0600.
Hikaru jerks awake, shivering and confused. Where is he? On his back, lying on something firm but giving, warm arms around him. He reaches up, or tries to, but his arm doesn't work, his fingers tingle, his chest's weighed down --
he looks up as the boulder blots out the light, tumbling towards him, Kirk and Benah shout and it hits and everything goes dark--
"Hikaru!" Pavel's breath warm on his ear, Pavel's excited whisper. "You are conscious!"
"Hey." Hikaru croaks. His mouth is incredibly dry. "Uh, I can't see."
"Your eyes are taped, is all. They are undamaged. Doctor McCoy expects you will recover completely." Pavel kisses Hikaru lightly, his mouth trembling despite his cheerful tone. "Would you like to see?"
"Of course I want to see you," His non-dominant hand works, at least, and he folds it up awkwardly, finding Pavel's arm, running his fingers over the uniform sleeve. "How long have you been here?"
"Not long," Pavel says too blithely to be true. "Let me?" Fingertips skim Hikaru's forehead, then tape peels from his eyelids. His eyes are seriously crusty, lashes gluey, but he blinks them open, and Pavel's face is a fuzzy dim patchwork of brown and pink and blue close beside him.
Fuzzy and fuzzier. Hikaru can't keep his eyes open. "Hey, Pavel," he mumbles as he goes under again, too fast to catch the reply, but Pavel's got him, he can relax.
"Comatose?" Christine asks, looking terribly worried, but Nyota just pats her arm and walks to the biobed. She's not worried. Afraid, of course, but she knows exactly what to do.
Spock lies absolutely still but for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, his skin as pale and translucent as cast wax. Nyota lays her hand on his cheek for a moment, but nothing stirs beneath her palm. Not yet.
"Give me a hand?" she asks, and Christine does, spotting her as she climbs in beside Spock, keeping that hand on his cheek and laying the other over his heart.
"You okay?" Christine asks, and Nyota nods; with a warm touch on her shoulder, Christine moves away. Nyota tucks her head beneath Spock's chin, her forehead against his neck, closes her eyes, and directs her thoughts. She's not a Vulcan, but she knows this one.
I am with you, she tells him. Hear me and return to me. I am with you.
"You," Bones says levelly as he takes Jim's pulse with warm strong fingers, "are an idiot."
"Hi," Jim answers dizzily. He thinks he's smiling. The room is spinning, and there's a sort of sensation all over his body that would probably be pain if he weren't so thoroughly drugged. "Whee," he adds after a moment.
Bones shakes his head, sets down Jim's lax hand and folds his arms. He's not spinning, even though the room is. Jim is definitely smiling, because he's looking at Bones. "Hi, Bones."
"So brilliant, so goddamn stupid," Bones mutters, and Jim can see that rumble wavering through the air. He laughs and shuts his eyes and feels himself float in the middle of the spinny room, the spinning galaxy, barely tethered by the insubstantial weight of pain.
Eventually, Jim gets a little heavier, floats back down, starts to hurt. Groaning, he blinks; the light is dim, red around the edges, the ceiling shadowed. A hypo hits his neck, and he doesn't really have energy for more than a token wince.
Besides, Jim can apply the saved energy to hiking his eyebrows as Bones sighs deeply and then climbs into the biobed with him. "Need a nap?" he manages to mumble.
"Shut up," Bones mutters, draping himself like a warm blanket all along Jim's side, a strong arm across his chest, long sturdy legs tucked beside his. "Go back to sleep." He kisses Jim's temple and sets their foreheads together, and before Jim can come up with a smartassed reply he falls asleep smiling.
