Stranded (Spock x Reader Insert)

IMPORTANT: PLEASE READ DESCRIPTION THING AT BOTTOM BEFORE READING THIS. And yes, I know I skip around and change tenses. I'm working on it.

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"F-f-field log: Lieutenant (LAST NAME) re-recording f-f-for-"

You broke off your sentence, figuring it was useless to even attempt to finish the sentence. Rubbing your hands together in a desperate attempt to create heat with friction, you tore your gaze away from the small fire you had managed to construct in order to glace over at your fellow Star Fleet member.

Well, if I had to be stranded on an alien planet during a blizzard, I couldn't pick anyone else I'd rather be stranded with.

At the thought, a rasp of a laugh escaped your throat, the foggy mist of your breath rising and mixing with the gray smoke of the fire. Your companion, who had silently been contemplating your situation for some time now, turned his attention to you.

Of course, it wasn't fate or anything for us to be chosen for this mission. Seriously, how many Star Fleet captains try to play matchmaker? None, because they're not as ridiculous as Kirk. I don't know why he insists on embarrassing me.

"Lieutenant?" His voice broke the reverie you had been (cursing Kirk) in, and you looked at him again.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" The half-Vulcan didn't respond, opting to stare inquisitively instead, as if trying to figure something out.

Of course, it was always difficult to tell with Vulcans.

"I was simply ensuring that you were still alive. I do not intend to lose any more members of my landing party," he said in his trademark monotone voice.

The words stirred a pang of grief inside of you as you thought of the colleagues and friends you had lost upon landing.



A new planet had been discovered, with humanoid indigenous lifeforms whose culture reflected that of Earth's in the early 20th century. Captain Kirk had then created an exploratory landing party, led by none other than his First Officer, Spock, and had insisted that you be placed on it, claiming his reasoning was that you were an expert in (INSERT SUBJECT OR SOMETHING-BIOLOGICAL, MEDICAL, WHATEVER YOU WANT), but it was really just because he knew how you felt about his friend.

At first, you were mortified, thinking that Spock would immediately figure out that you were infatuated with him. Upon landing, however, the embarrassed and love-struck blush that had developed on your face was quickly lost when the planet's inhabitants had proved to be extremely aggressive and dangerous. Caught off guard and clad in thick, movement-restricting winter gear in preparation for the planet's icy climate, your fellow crewmen and women were slaughtered easily and mercilessly.

You had in fact only survived because Spock had roughly grabbed your arm and half-dragged you behind him as you two fled the gruesome scene, which was littered with the quickly-freezing remains of your friends. Your attackers had attempted to follow you, but you had miraculously managed to both lose them and find a run-down, abandoned shack outside of their town in the middle of the random blizzard that blew in out of nowhere.



Which left you in your current situation: shivering under a moldy blanket left behind in the shack, cut off from the ship due to the blizzard, and slowly freezing to death in front of your favorite person on the Enterprise.

Lovely.

You returned to your brooding thoughts as you inched closer and closer to the fire in an attempt to stop the violent muscle spasms rocking your body, and paid no attention to Spock.

This left the Vulcan free to observe you and contemplate just what could be done to increase any chance of survival you had until the communicator was able to contact the ship again. His face was in its usual position, so it was unbeknownst to you that inwardly the Vulcan was also grieving the loss of his crew mates and panicking about something else.

He was running out of time.

If he didn't think of something to do, you were surely going to freeze to death in front of him. It was one of the rare moments when Spock was unsure of how he would feel and if he would be able to cope properly. Secretly, he had grown fond of you during your time on the Enterprise, although he had never outwardly shown it- a fact that he was now beginning to regret as it seemed very likely that the two of you would meet your deaths within the next few hours.

You would die first. You were human, after all, and the human body could only handle so much before it finally gave up.

Spock briefly wondered whether any of your organs had begun to fail before actually making an effort to banish the thought from his mind; he didn't want to know the statistical probability that some of your organs were most likely already in the process.

He, too, was freezing and dying a slow death, but his Vulcan ancestry had granted him a higher natural body temperature than humans, as well as better metabolic functions. Which meant that while you would most likely die soon, he would be left alone for hours grieving over your corpse until he finally succumbed.

His gaze shifted to you again, and he noted that your snow-soaked clothing would not help your situation. An idea popped into his head, and while he knew it was simply an act of desperation (damn his captain for "rubbing off" on him and impacting his judgement) that most likely wouldn't work, he calculated the pros and cons and decided that the situation could not get worse, so he might as well "go for it," as his captain and CMO would tell him.

At the very least, he may finally convey the feelings he felt towards you in a way you could understand before you both froze.

Wrapping his lone, raggedy blanket around himself (he had given you the two better ones), he quickly stripped his heavy and soaked winter clothing off until he was left in only his undergarments. In a few swift movements, he had draped his blanket and jacket over top of your shivering form, causing you to turn around in bewilderment as he slipped underneath the pile beside you.

"W-w-what are you d-doing?" You chattered out. "You're going to f-freeze!"

"I have restrained from stating this so far, (NAME), but the chance of us surviving this situation is-" He stopped speaking after looking at your expression. You were well aware that the two of you would most likely not live to see the next day, but you didn't actually want to hear him say it. After spending so many years with humans, he had developed the skill to read facial expressions, and granted you your unspoken wish.

"Those jackets were not designed for such a prolonged exposure, and freezing to death requires a much longer time period than that which I endured while moving over here. I am going to freeze anyway, so all actions from this point forward are simply postponing the inevitable. May I return to assisting you?"

You gave him a confused look, only to widen your eyes as he began removing your clothing.

"W-what are you-?"

"Vulcans naturally maintain a higher body temperature than humans," he stated as if it were obvious, as he continued to strip you down.

"I'm going to freeze anyway," you mimicked his words somberly. You felt Spock cease moving for a moment, and he looked up from the fastenings of your clothing.

"...This is the only course of action I am capable of taking at the moment," he responded quietly, observing you for another moment before he thew your jacket on top of his and pulled the remainder of your clothing off, leaving you in your undergarments like him.

"But this isn't going to w-work-"

You let the ending of your sentence fell flat as Spock wrapped his arms around you and pressed your bodies together in an effort to convey some of his extra body heat towards you. He was freezing, yet warmer than you. You took to silence as you accepted his illogical action and wrapped your arms around him as well, and pressed your face into his neck in order to gain some feeling back in it. He stiffened, but made no attempt to move away from you or request that you stop.

"I love you."

The words had accidentally blurted out of your mouth, and immediately you regretted it. A moment later, however, you were actually proud of yourself - even if he didn't return the feelings (and you didn't expect him to), at least you had told him before you died.

Filled with your newfound pride, you looked him in the eye a few moments after the words were said. He gazed back, face still a mask, but he slowly removed his arm from around your waist, only to wordlessly grab your hand and gently caress your fingers in a gesture you had read about once before.

A Vulcan kiss.

After that, his arm had returned to its previous position, and neither of you said another word.

You didn't need to.

Looking into his eyes one last time, you decided that there was definitely no one else you would have rather been stranded with.