“You’re all thumbs, kiddo,” Doctor Leonard McCoy grumbled as he, once again, mended the cuts and scrapes only Jim Kirk could ever find a way to get.
“That is an interesting image, doctor,” Spock said quietly form his spot leaning against the doorway, where he usually waited for Jim to get patched up. “I am, however, quite curious as to why you would make such a statement when you know that Jim has only two.”
“Do you have to take everything literally?” McCoy grumped. “I meant, he’s a goddamn klutz! And I’m not fixin’ you anymore until you at least try to be more careful.” He stalked off to his office, leaving Jim to pout on the biobed.
“I’m not that clumsy, am I?” Jim asked, his eyes so big and cute they could rival Chekov’s best begging expression.
“Jim,” Spock moved closer to kneel next to Jim. He took Jim’s hands in his and pressed a kiss to each fingertip. “You have a great diversity of fingers and I love all of them, especially your thumbs,” he sucked one into his mouth, eliciting a small moan from Jim.
“Good enough for me,” Jim panted. “Now we had better get back to our quarters or Bones’ll never speak to me again.”
The crew would never stop being amazed by how quickly their captain could run, even when he was dragging a Vulcan along with him.