suedescripture:

what are princesses when Spirk are arguing

“Captain,” Spock said. “When we were attacked, were you bitten?”

“I… Maybe,” Jim squirmed, shrugging. “They just grazed me. It’s fine. It’s no big deal.”

“Jim, please do not lie to me,” Spock said, he raised his arms to bare the insides of his forearms and wrists where he had been aware of his own bite wounds for some time, his own dried blood sticking the material of his thermals to his torn skin. “I was also bitten. I believe the integrity of my evo suit is compromised.”

“Shit,” Jim murmured, frowning up at him, “You should have told me.”

“Is yours as well?”

“I… I don’t know,” he evaded, “Maybe.”

He looked down, tilting his leg to see the back of his ankle and calf, brushing gloved fingers over the rumpled fabric. The composite materiel was supposed to be self-healing, but that was on a microscopic level; larger rips were still possible.

“Jim, you should have informed me,” Spock said, and when Jim ignored that, he continued, “You are at far greater risk than I.”

“How do you figure that?” Jim countered hotly.

“I am Vulcan,” Spock said, “As this virus appears to be oriented toward an iron-based hemolytic system, it is likely I will not be affected. It is now imperative that we leave this compound immediately and seek shelter elsewhere. We must remove you from the epicenter of the viral area.”

“Spock, you’re part-human, you have no idea what—” as Spock moved his hands to the release under his chin, Jim jolted up, “Spock, don’t!”

But Spock had quickly pulled off his mask.

“Goddammit!” Jim shouted at him, “What the fuck, Spock? Why did you fucking do that?”

“To force you to acknowledge the necessity of our departure,” Spock retorted as he stood up and pulled the suit’s taut hood from his head, his hair flattened from the pressure. “Regardless of the situation, you cannot remain in that suit beyond another 12 hours. You must eat, drink and attend your bodily functions. I can survive longer, but I too require basic needs to survive. I will not allow you to continue compromising your health.”

“Fuck,” Jim growled, striding around the room. “Fuck you, you know? You’re a fucking piece of work. What if I take mine off, huh?”

Spock advance on him threateningly, “Captain, if you attempt to remove your mask, I will be forced to incapacitate you and remove you to an alternate location myself.”

Jim stared him down, but Spock didn’t relent for a nanosecond. It was a cold day in hell when his XO forcibly asserted his intentions since that first time, but when it came down to it, he didn’t doubt that Spock would nerve pinch him out, toss him over his shoulder like an inconvenient rag doll and get shit done his own way if he thought Jim was being unimaginably stupid.

“Fine. Fine, have it your way.”

“You are welcome to continue berating me while we evacuate the area,” Spock told him, striding to look out the window, “The sun will clear the horizon in approximately 12 minutes. I believe we should gather as many resources as we can carry and leave the city perimeter as soon as possible.”

“Yeah? Where to, Spock?”

Spock was calmly packing padds and tricorders into a satchel that had been left in the building. “Given the volatile nature of the tides, I believe we should avoid the coastal area, as well as the higher elevations as they will likely have more unpredictable weather patterns. Therefore, the foothills would possess the best possibility of survival.”

“Oh, good. Great! we’re stuck out here on the ass end of the galaxy, and now you finally wanna go on a camping trip.”