"Wait a minute, (Y/N)!"
You stopped and turned, Spock following suit, to see Doctor McCoy striding towards you.
"Yes, Doctor?" you asked.
"Just where do you think you're going?" he frowned.
"Well . . . down to the planet, sir. I'm in the landing party."
"You're barely in fit condition to stand up," he informed you disapprovingly. "Whose bright idea was it to put you in another away mission?"
"Mr. Spock's idea, sir," you admitted. "But I'm just fine! It won't be anything strenuous, just investigating!"
McCoy turned his frown to Spock, who remained impassive. "What are you trying to do, Spock, kill her?"
"I can assure you that is the furthest thing from my mind, Doctor," Spock replied evenly. "(Y/N) is the most logical choice for this mission."
"Logical?! Is it logical to over-exert someone who's still recovering from half-healed injuries?!"
"Doctor, she is a quite capable woman and geologist as well as a rational thinker. If she believes herself able–"
"She's stubborn like you, Spock, but that doesn't mean she's healthy!"
"Are her injuries so severe that walking on a planet with a tricorder in hand will kill her?"
"I've seen the state of that planet! Spock–"
"Doctor!" Somehow, your voice cut across theirs. "It is not on Spock's orders that I go! He only recommended me! The captain ordered me to go on this mission, so don't waste your breath trying to make the wrong person change his mind!"
McCoy sighed in frustration. "Fine. Go ahead. But if you aggravate those wounds, so help me, I'll-"
You detected real concern in his eyes and smiled softly. "I won't."
With a final disapproving shake of his head, McCoy walked off, and you turned back to Spock. "Shall we proceed, sir?"
He made no answer, and you saw something glimmering in his eyes. Was it concern?
"Mr. Spock, sir?"
"Doctor McCoy seems to feel you should not be out of sick bay," Spock commented.
"He worries too much," you said dismissively. "Come on, we have to beam down."
"(Y/N)." His voice was expressionless, but his beautiful eyes conveyed the worry he refused to voice. "If you are in unfit condition to work‒"
"I'm fine," you snapped, then regretted your harshness. "I . . . I'm sorry, sir."
"Why did he release you from sick bay too early?"
"I guess . . ." You considered. "I guess because I asked him to, sir."
"He must like you extremely well, ensign. He usually doesn't even release the captain early."
There was something similar to irritation in his voice this time, but you dismissed it and merely shrugged. "I don't know. And please, sir, not ensign. Just (Y/N)."
Spock paused for a few seconds. "In that case, (Y/N), you should stop calling me 'sir' when duty does not call for it."
You stared at him, then smiled slightly. "Deal. Let's get to the transporter room before they send someone looking for us, shall we?"
"Indeed."
