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"You know what one of the most amazing parts of a five-year mission would be?"

"Surveying and exploring solar systems and planets that have, until now, only been detected with long-range sensors?"

Jim sighs and swipes at his tablet. "Less of these."

Now that Jim is awake several hours at a stretch, he's restless and hard to contain. McCoy is sure the escape attempts will begin any day now, so Spock came up with a simple solution: bury Jim in captainly duties.

'These' are the several hundred reports and briefs he has to fill out or read and pass judgment on. They've backed up to enormous proportions while he was in the coma, and although Spock could have done them all, he'd known in advance that (were Jim to pull through) this time would come. They're the perfect sort of busy-work to occupy him.

Spock is pleased to see Jim isn't evading them, though is certain the reason isn't just because Spock is sitting right there, managing the downstream effects of Jim's decisions. (He suspects it's related to conversations Pike and the captain had just prior to the Admiral's death, which makes Spock feel a little guilty over his chosen tactic, but not enough to not go forward with it.)

"Do they really expect me to be able to describe the interior of the Vengeance in this kind of detail?" Jim taps here and there before swiping again. "Scotty's doing that one. I'll double check his before its submitted."

Spock nods and shuttles the request in question to Mr. Scott.

"And this one about the ship's diagnostics before we fell out of warp, Chekov can do that." A few briefs later, Jim says, "Half of these just need to be done by somebody else."

"Captain Okoro told me once the most important skill a captain could possess was knowing the correct person to which they should delegate a task."

"Yeah, well, careful, or I'm gonna delegate the rest of these to you."

"That would be an option."

Jim glances up and narrows his eyes at Spock, maybe trying to figure out if he's joking, then goes back to the next form. "No, it's fine. I need something to do that's not your girlfriend beating my ass at every two-person card-game in the galaxy. She's a shark, by the way, don't ever play her for anything except candy or paperclips."

"I can only assume that there is a human idiomatic expression relating skill at cardgames with Selachii species, and not that you believe Nyota to be an actual cartilaginous oceanic apex predator."

Jim chokes on a laugh. Spock knows what it looks like when the captain is withholding a joke.

"Yes," Jim manages, and clears his throat. "I meant that she's good at cards." He rubs his eyes. "This would be a lot easier over a beer."

"As Dr. McCoy has strict orders regarding your consumption of alcohol, would tea be an acceptable alternative?"

Jim's initially sullen expression gives way to one of gratitude. "Yeah, thanks."

On his way out of the room, Spock pauses in the doorway to look back over his shoulder; Jim is back to making faces at his tablet and muttering, "Seriously?" while jabbing at the screen.

Spock allows himself a small, private smile on his way to the cafeteria.

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