Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“If I may have a word, Captain?“

“Of course, Mr. Spock. What’s on your mind?“

“It is a matter of a private nature, so I request that we discuss it in your quarters, if we may.“

Kirk looked around as they stood in a hallway of the Enterprise. “And isn’t it convenient that we just so happen to be standing in front of my quarters? Mr. Spock, if you will, please?“ he invited as the door to his quarters slid open.

“Thank you, Captain.“ Spock waited until the door slid shut again, then wasted no time explaining his mission. “I have been concerned about Dr. McCoy’s behavior for several days now, Captain, and I finally decided to approach you with my concerns.”

“That is one of your duties as First Officer. And I would consider it a dereliction of duty if you did not bring it to my attention, even if he is a personal friend of ours. What about Dr. McCoy’s behavior is concerning you?”

“I have observed that he has manifested symptoms of a most puzzling nature, Captain.”

“And what have you observed, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked and tried to hide the sigh from his voice. He knew, also, that their mutual friend and colleague Leonard McCoy was acting strangely, but that happened with Bones periodically. One had to wait patiently for Dr. McCoy to bring himself out of 'the blues.' The man always did. He would this time, also.

But now McCoy had crossed Spock's personal radar. Spock generally didn't notice McCoy much, but McCoy had saved his life several times recently. That, plus working more together, had made McCoy more important to Spock. In fact, the three main officers, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, were now a tight knit group together. They were practically family. And the rest of the crew knew it.

It had always amazed Kirk that for such a large ship with personnel aboard numbering in the hundreds, the Enterprise could get awfully small awfully fast whenever someone started acting strangely. When it happened to someone in a command position, as McCoy was, the situation could get downright demoralizing. Apparently, this Starship wasn’t just a vessel for space exploration whose mission was to seek out new civilizations. At times, it was simply a flying Peyton Place. And if Kirk wasn’t careful, that was what McCoy’s behavior could create. Here was ample proof of a potential problem with the appearance of a puzzled, but determined Vulcan.

Add Spock’s solicitude to that hotbed of nerves and gossip from the crew. The Vulcan had taken it upon himself to safeguard Kirk and McCoy. He was their self-appointed guardian. Of course, Kirk felt the same way about Spock and McCoy, and he figured that McCoy felt the same way about him and Spock. They were a triumvirate of command professionally, and family for each other privately.

“His behavior is what I can only describe as furtive, Captain. He gives the appearance of being secretive and non-communicative. I also believe that he is consuming intoxicants. There are times when I can smell alcoholic beverages on his breath. These same intoxicants also seem to be secreting from his person via his perspiration.”

He‘s stinking like an outdoor distillery, Kirk interpreted. Like an illegal still in a hog lot in central Arkansas. Neighborhood flowers are curling shut to avoid death, and birds are falling out of the sky because of the alcoholic fumes in the air. “Your observations are correct, Mr. Spock. It’s true that Dr. McCoy has been drinking somewhat lately.”

“Then you have noticed his obvious consumption of artificial stimulants.“

“Yes. Tell me, Mr. Spock, about the nature of your interest in Dr. McCoy. Are you concerned about his job performance? Have you observed that he has not been able to perform his tasks aboard the Enterprise? As First Officer, that would be your duty to report any such dereliction of duty. Is that your purpose for mentioning this incident to your Commanding Officer? Are you prepared to submit an official dossier concerning Dr. McCoy’s professional and personal behavior and performance? A dossier that would be the basis of a professional review of Dr. McCoy‘s job performance at the first Star Base that we reach?” he asked in challenge.

Kirk knew he was sounding like a prig, like SPOCK would sound. But sometimes the nitpicking Vulcan could really piss him off over petty infractions of obscure rules and regulations. Kirk decided to fight fire with fire and challenge Spock. Take the offensive instead of trying to defend himself. Sometimes that was the only course of action when one got in a pissing contest with a Vulcan robot who could quote the rule book from cover to cover without taking a breath.

Kirk hoped that the human half of Spock was also present in this current pissing contest between the two officers.

It was.

Spock looked confused. Kirk‘s speech must have sounded more like something he himself would have said. “Why, no, Captain,” Spock answered. “That is not my purpose, at all. I am merely concerned about Dr. McCoy and wanted to ascertain if you were likewise as concerned as I am. I meant nothing else by it.”

Kirk relaxed. He had that victory under his belt. “I know you are concerned, Spock. I am, too. Maybe not to the degree that you obviously are, though. But I know that this will all blow over for him and, therefore, for us, in time. But in the meanwhile, it‘s going to be hard for us to watch. That’s what friends do. And that’s what we’ll have to go through, too. We‘ll want to help him, but really can‘t.”

“What is wrong with Dr. McCoy, Captain?” Spock asked with worry on his face. “This situation sounds dire, indeed.”

“It is. He’s going through a rough patch right now, Mr. Spock.”

“A rough patch?”

“He’s got a lot of personal problems, and he’s trying to work them out. They surface every once in awhile and get him down. You see, we all have different ways to approach problems. Part of that depends on our personalities. What would seem impossible for someone to deal with would be no problem at all for someone else. We all have different strengths and weaknesses, talents and failings. McCoy is no different.”

“Why does he allow this type of mental anguish to overwhelm him?”

“This is just something that happens to McCoy. I let him know that I’m here, but he has to work it out for himself. Don’t look at me like that! I’ve got the running of a ship and the welfare of hundreds of people to consider, not just his! Sometimes you just have to give him some room and time to work it out for himself. Besides, McCoy can sometimes get all private about his problems.” Kirk thought for a moment. “It’s like what you go through with pon farr.”

“It is a mating ritual?”

“No, it’s a conflict of the spirit. He‘s having doubts about his life and what he‘s doing with it. We all have those times when we have doubts. McCoy is just messier and more visible with his trying to handle them than most people. Those closest to him tend to get sucked into his battles.”

“I just need to understand.”

“I know you do. And I know that you’re curious. That could be a bad combination for you. That curiosity might get you into trouble this time. Although his struggles are visible, McCoy wants to keep them private. And that’s where it will get difficult for you and me. Sometimes there’s a fine line between concern and butting in. Just be there for him when he gets around to needing you. Let him know that you‘ll be there if he needs you, then stand back. That will be difficult to do, because you’ll want to help. It’s kind of the way a parent must agonize as he watches his child struggling with problems. If we love someone, we want to solve those problems for them. Sometimes we just have to bite the bullet and do what we can to help." He glanced at Spock with a serious look on his face. "Understand what I‘m saying?”

“I believe I do,” Spock said slowly. “Thank you so much, Captain. I will now return to my duties.” He turned and marched away.

That’s one hurdle, Jim Kirk thought. How many more?

He shouldn’t have asked.

Kirk didn’t realize it, but he should’ve never used pon farr as an illustration for McCoy’s conflict.

After considerable thought and using the criteria that Captain Kirk had so thoughtfully provided, Spock decided that McCoy needed a physical relationship with someone to sidetrack him from his reliance on alcohol. So Spock took a deep breath and decided to bite the bullet by offering up his body for McCoy’s use. Although Spock could not understand how his trying to chew on live ammunition would aid McCoy any, Spock was willing to sacrifice his teeth and possibly part of his jaw for McCoy‘s sake. Likewise, the use of his body, if that was what it took for McCoy to battle his unnamed demons.

Spock breathed deeply again for courage, strode forth with determination, and headed for Sickbay.

“I wish to have permission to speak with you for a moment, Dr. McCoy.”

McCoy studied the man who had suddenly appeared at his elbow in his office. What now, McCoy wondered and closed the report he’d been writing at his desk. Had somebody died? Was Spock seriously ill? Or did he know of someone who was? Because the Vulcan definitely wasn't cheerful. In fact, he was standing at attention and looked like he was volunteering for a suicide mission. This could not be happy news. This must really be some serious shit that he was wanting to discuss.

Although you really couldn’t tell with Spock. He might simply be wishing to discuss time differentials between Mercury and Jupiter and how those factors might influence growth patterns and longevity ratios between say, Earthlings and Vulcans. Although as a scientist and a medical physician, McCoy would have a passing interest in the subject, it was no burning issue that would cause him lack of sleep. Now Spock, on the other hand, might become so absorbed that he might walk into walls or other stationary objects such as statues which could not readily step out of his distracted way. A puzzled Spock would be left sitting on the ground, looking up at the innocent, yet offending object and nursing a sore spot on whatever part of his anatomy had chanced to collide with the immovable object.

A second look showed McCoy that Spock wasn’t grieving or contemplative. His face appeared to be somewhere in the middle. That took up a lot of territory, McCoy realized. Anything might be afoot. What the hell was going on in that convoluted brain of Spock‘s now?

McCoy was feeling rather magnanimous today. He might even be able to deal with Spock. But first, he had to put the Vulcan at ease. “Relax, Spock. You’re among friends. We don’t need to stand on ceremony now.” McCoy frowned. “That means we don’t have to go by military protocol,“ he quickly explained because he could see Spock’s confusion about their situation. Spock probably would have quickly pointed out that he was standing, while McCoy was seated. And McCoy did not want to engage in an exhausting discussion about where ‘ceremony‘ was located so that the two of them did not have to stand on it. “Now, how may I help you, Mr. Spock? What’s on your mind?”

“I have noticed that you have been troubled lately.”

“Yes, I have. Thank you for noticing.”

“I would like to help you with your problems in any way that I can.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. And I appreciate your concern, too, but there really isn’t anything--”

“Here am I, use me.”

McCoy blinked and jerked slightly.

Now, McCoy had grown used to Spock saying almost anything after all this time of knowing and working with the Vulcan. But this statement had to be right up there with some of the alien‘s most mystifying. McCoy decided to ask a safer, and yet, more obvious question, one that he truly would like to have answered. The others, although intriguing, would have to wait.

“You’re quoting the Hebrew Bible to me?”

“I was not aware that I was.”

“Try reading Isaiah 6:8. You‘ll find, though, that the exact text is ‘Here am I, send me.’ Although I don‘t know if now is the appropriate time to establish the correct verb usage. It‘s the context of what you just said that has me more intrigued.”

“I am most impressed with your knowledge of Judaic Christian literature and the beliefs of those early indigenous peoples in that part of the Earth. For a nomadic people just coming out of the Stone Age, it is amazing that they could think abstractly in order to form the basis for a religion."

"That is why many parts of the Bible are considered to be divinely inspired. How else could people of such limited formal knowledge and barely any scope of the world at large have created such philosophical thinking?"

"I did not realize that you were an expert on the Bible.”

And McCoy did not know how in the hell they had gotten on a discussion of Biblical theory. Surely, that wasn't what had Spock so concerned!

McCoy wisely decided to drop that line of the conversation. He'd soon know if he was correct about Spock's purpose today.

“I’m not that well acquainted with the Bible,“ McCoy answered with a self-conscious grin. “What you quoted just happens to be a favorite verse of my grandmother‘s. She thought that we should all be missionaries. I think she always grieved that she could not have joined something like the Twentieth Century Peace Corps and had the opportunity to convert the heathens in Darkest Africa.” He frowned in thought, remembering Spock's shocking offer. “Like I said, it’s the context of what you said that has me puzzled. Do you realize what you just said to me? Why are you saying something like that to me, anyway? What if I had taken that offer literally?”

“Maybe I intended for you to take the offer literally.“

“You mean?“

“Yes, Doctor. Use me to rid yourself of the demon.”

“There’s just nothing about that offer that is right,” McCoy muttered.

“You saved my life several times. You would not let me die. I will not let you destroy yourself with drink. I will give you something else to think about.”

“Well, it worked. I’m sure as hell thinking about something else.“

“Good.“

“And if I had not saved your life? Would you still make me an offer like that? Would I have been as important to you?”

“I do not know. That is almost moot now, is it not?”

“Look, a relationship with you could create a whole new set of problems. For both of us. Because it would involve more than our bodies getting physical with each other. Damn it, man! I could fall for you. Hard! And I don’t know if I could handle that, now or at any other time in my life.”

Spock looked deflated.

McCoy felt compelled to explain. “I’m sorry, Spock. I know that you’re trying to do something good, and I’m grateful for the effort. I know that you have a heart. I’ve felt it beating. No, that isn’t right. I took another cheap shot.” McCoy saw Spock’s look of confusion. “I took the easy way out. Damn it! I don’t want to face the meaning of what you are offering, so I gamely sidestepped the issue.”

Spock understood, but he was adamant. “Doctor, I want to help.”

“Spock, I know you do. But this isn’t right, what you’re offering. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“But if it makes you forget the bottle--”

“It isn’t the bottle that I’m after.”

“I know that it is not. That is why I am offering.”

“Spock, I’m not after your ass!”

Spock blinked at the blunt statement. “I realize that, Doctor. And you do not realize that is not all that I am offering.”

“What, then?” McCoy asked, although he knew. He just wanted to hear Spock say it.

“I offer you my heart.”

For some reason, hearing what he wanted to hear from Spock made him angry. Then McCoy realized that it was because he had felt embarrassed for Spock. He never figured he'd have that kind of reaction.

He had to cover his own confusion with bluster. “How can you offer something you don’t have?!”

“For you, I would find it.”

McCoy thrashed around in his further confusion and said the first thing that popped into his mind. He should have thought it through. "Don't bother!"

But Spock was confused by McCoy words and, much to McCoy's horror, hurt. "I do not understand, Doctor. It is my heart I am offering to you. I thought that would be enough to turn you away from your troubles and, therefore, alcohol."

"Well, it isn't." McCoy said, causing further hurt and confusion on Spock's face. "Smarts, doesn't it? That happens sometimes," McCoy muttered. "Sometimes, you just get burned. That's what you get for dealing with an utter asshole like myself."

Spock drew himself up. "I will not allow you to demean yourself in this manner."

McCoy gave him a wry, all-knowing, yet sad smile. "Forget it, kid. Sometimes you just have to let an asshole be an asshole. Know what I mean?"

"But it is my body and my heart that I am offering to you."

"And I should be grateful for those gifts?"

Spock didn't answer, but McCoy could read Spock's agreement in the Vulcan's perplexed eyes.

But McCoy couldn’t accept it. Whether it was empathy for Spock or disbelief in the Vulcan, he did not know. Or maybe he was, truly, an asshole. "I appreciate the offer, but it isn't Valentine's Day yet, so hang onto your heart. You'll find somebody deserving." He smirked. He had to go in for a death strike. "Now, if you'd threw in that computer brain of yours, we just might have a deal. I've been needing a new personal computer in my quarters. Mine's getting a little slow, but you--" He gave Spock's body a stripping glance. "--you could give me all kinds of action."

Even Spock knew when he had been insulted. He could not stop the shock of McCoy's grossness from registering on his face.

"See?" McCoy muttered as he turned aside. He could not stand to see the accusation in Spock's eyes. "The arrogant asshole of the Enterprise rides again."

"I will give you time to think about my offer."

Did this kid never give up?! McCoy smirked again. "There isn't that much time in the universe, kid. I'm no good. Get wise. Walk away from me. Don't look back."

"But, I could help you so much--"

Spock was right. He could help McCoy. It would be so easy for McCoy. But he knew that something would be expected from him in this relationship. Spock meant to cure him of his occasional doldrums. Could McCoy really do that? Could he face that struggle? Instead, he turned coward and didn't want to admit it, so he placed the blame on Spock. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! Now, go away and stop confusing me!”

"But--"

"Look, kid. I'm trying to do you a favor." McCoy knew he was going to have to get mean. "Okay, I'll say it. I didn't want to, but you're leaving me no choice." He breathed deeply. "You aren't enough for me. Okay?" He looked at Spock for his reaction. He hated himself, but it had to be done.

Another wave of shock and disbelief washed over Spock's face. “You do not wish my friendship?” he asked in ashen tones.

At this point, McCoy simply wanted the annoying buzzing that was Spock to leave. He would have said anything to achieve that blissful state. So he did.

“Why do I need you?" he asked coldly. "I’ve got Jim.” He wouldn't look at Spock. He couldn't stand to see what was written on that accusing face this time. "Now, go away," McCoy mumbled.

Spock turned away with the unseen pain clearly etched on his face.

McCoy waited until he heard the door to his office in Sickbay open and close before he allowed his shoulders to slump.

The arrogant asshole of the Enterprise was indeed riding again.

But he certainly wasn't very proud of himself.

“I hurt him, Jim. I might as well have stabbed him in the heart. No, that’s wrong. That would’ve been only a physical betrayal. What I did was worse.”

“He loves you, Bones, and he’s having a hard enough time wrapping his mind around that concept. That’s something he’s never experienced very much in his life, and it certainly wasn’t encouraged by his Vulcan culture. I think that the human side of him is liking this love thing and wants to have more of it. And it just happens to be our lucky privilege to provide and encourage the development of those emotions. He is trying to allow himself to feel, and we have to help him do that.”

“You want me to have an affair with him?!”

“Whatever it takes.” Kirk frowned. “Well, maybe not that. If you wouldn’t want a physical relationship with him, it would be awfully difficult to fake that sort of thing.“

“You’re telling me!“

“I know that guys in stag films can get ready for action in a moment’s notice, or so they would want you to think.”

“That’s part of the myth! If that spontaneity was true, how come so many male stimulants get sold?! I‘d need to take a whole handful to take on that guy!”

“Look, he thinks he loves you because you saved him. But it‘s really because you got to know each other better. Now, just take some time to be around him a little bit more. Get to be friends. Maybe he‘ll realize that you don‘t need this other.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Jim. I feel pretty low. I got enough trying to handle what‘s going on inside my heart and head without having to adopt a Vulcan who does not know how to handle the new feelings he‘s having.”

“Just try. Okay?”

“Well, okay,” McCoy agreed, apprehensively. “But don’t expect much.”

But Kirk was encouraged. Before, McCoy wouldn’t have been so concerned that he’d hurt Spock’s feelings. Honestly, if he ever got these two straightened out and acknowledging their feelings for each other, his life would be simpler. Not that he was complaining. They were his to help, and he was awed that they were his. They were both flawed, but so was he.

But once again, someone misinterpreted Kirk’s sound advice. Now it was McCoy’s turn, except he didn’t take Kirk’s advice at all.

Spock followed McCoy into his quarters. He knew that McCoy was drinking and would be seeking more solace by himself.

“What are you doing in here, Commander?!” McCoy challenged. “These are my private quarters! Every man has a castle, and this is mine! Get out!”

“I am here to help you, Doctor.”

“Well, I don’t want that help, understand?! Now, just, just get out of here!” He began stirring in drawers, muttering.

“I had all of your hidden stores of alcoholic beverages confiscated and destroyed, so there is no further need for you to search for them.”

“You did, what?!” McCoy roared at him. “That was aged Scotch! You don’t just pick that up in any liquor store! I don’t believe this!” He rubbed the back of his neck as he turned away, then he glared into Spock’s face. “Who asked you to do that?!”

“I took it on myself to perform a logical task.”

“Well, it isn’t logical, to me,” McCoy muttered as he turned away again. He looked back at Spock. “Nor is it wanted or appreciated.” He strode back to roar at Spock again. “What will it take for you to stop doing good deeds for me?!”

“I do not understand why you do not wish to take up what I am offering.”

McCoy studied Spock a long moment, then made a decision. Granted, it was the wrong decision, but it was a decision, nonetheless.

McCoy grabbed Spock and kissed him brutally on the mouth while roughly running his hands over Spock‘s body. Spock tried to placate McCoy by not fighting back. Instead, he tried to gentle the wild advances of the angry doctor with his soothing hands. That only seemed to make McCoy angrier.

The main reason McCoy got angry was that halfway through what was supposed to be a punishing kiss, it suddenly occurred to McCoy that he liked kissing the Vulcan. He liked the way Spock clung to him and tried to placate him, almost like someone who cared for him would. And McCoy liked the way Spock did that. But McCoy couldn't have that! He was supposed to be sickening the Vulcan, not encouraging him.

McCoy grabbed a handful of Spock's ass and twisted hard. Spock broke the kiss with a yelp.

“Is this what you want, Vulcan?!” He glared into Spock’s face as Spock rubbed his throbbing flesh. “Is this what you really want?! To be raped by me?!”

“Preferably, no, Doctor. I want us to find harmony together so that your angry demons can be appeased and subdued. I want you to find more happiness in my arms than in all of the false consolation of whatever it is that you think you find in your bottle of alcoholic intoxicants.”

McCoy shoved him roughly aside. “Get away from me! Leave me alone!”

“I simply wish to help--”

“Well, you’re not! Alright?! Just get out of my room! Get out of my hair! And get out of my life!”

“But--”

“What does it take before you understand?! I don’t want you around! Got it?! Just leave me alone!”

Spock looked stricken. Worse, he seemed rooted to the spot. He was too stunned to move.

His paralysis angered McCoy. He grabbed Spock’s elbow and hustled him to the door. After the door slid open, McCoy shoved Spock into the hallway. Several passing crewmen glanced at Spock’s awkward, unceremonius appearance among them.

Spock started to say something in protest.

“I don’t want to hear it!” McCoy screamed.

“But--“

McCoy drew his hand back, then viciously slapped Spock across the face. The sound of it echoed in the hallway.

A bright green patch appeared on Spock’s face as surprise and pain also registered on it. Spock reached up to touch the tender spot as crewmen stared at the fighting pair.

McCoy’s mouth dropped open in shock at what he had done. For a moment, he even looked sober. His mouth started to form words, then he frowned and turned back into his quarters. The door slid shut behind him leaving a shocked Spock staring at it.

Sobriety brought guilt to McCoy, and he was driven to seek out Spock in order to apologize.

“Spock, look, I’m, ah, sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. I shouldn’t have shoved you, and I sure as hell shouldn’t have slapped you. You were only trying to help.”

“That is quite alright, Doctor,” Spock answered stiffly as he busily sorted computer parts.

The faint traces of a bruise were still on his cheek. Someone had to know where to look to see the bruise, and McCoy knew where to look. That bruise really made him feel angry with himself.

“No, it isn’t! It isn’t alright! Don’t let me off the hook so easily!”

“I will not do that, nor will I chastise you. I will simply mind my own business from now on.” He went back to his pile of computer parts.

“Spock. Come on,” McCoy pleaded. “Don’t be that way.”

Spock looked up. “Oh, but I am going to be that way. I will be any way I wish to be. I do not take orders from you.“

“Of course not, but I--“

“I tried to be helpful to you, and you did not wish it. I should have accepted that fact earlier. I suppose I am what you would call a slow learner. But now I have learned. I finally understand the lesson that you have been trying to teach. I am sorry that I have been such a difficult student.”

“Spock--”

“But the lesson has been thoroughly learned now. Do not question or admonish me for my use of the criteria that I have learned. I am sorry that I troubled you so much.”

“Spock, don‘t--”

But Spock talked through him. “I have finally learned, Doctor. And I am through. You saved my life, many times, and I am grateful. I thought that you were offering friendship, too, besides saving my life. But I was apparently mistaken.”

“Spock, I was offering friendship--”

“Then you obviously changed your mind.”

“I didn’t. I just have these demons that plague me--”

“Demons that are more important than Jim or me?”

“No! Never!”

“I cannot believe that, Doctor. And I cannot believe what Jim told me, either, about you and friendship. I was wrong to try. This hurts too much. I do not want to hurt anymore. Baring emotions is too radical. I am through!” Spock glared at McCoy, then stomped off stiffly, his computer parts forgotten.

McCoy thought that it was a marvelous performance by a tragic martyr. No prima donna or drama queen could have performed it better. It surely was worth some sort of prize for acting.

No, McCoy chided himself. He shouldn’t be joking about what he had caused to happen. This development between him and Spock will really piss off Jim, McCoy thought. Jim was bound to notice the martyred Vulcan.

Jim did.

Chapter Text

“Alright, Bones. What did you do to Spock?”

“What do you mean, what did I do to Spock?” McCoy asked evasively.

“He‘s walking around like he’ll shatter if he tries to relax. I know I haven‘t done anything to put him into a catatonic kind of state like that, so that leaves just you to be at fault. Fess up.”

“Yeah, it was me,“ McCoy admitted in misery. “I messed up real bad, Jim. I think I’ve probably lost all the headway we’d made with him. You know, to humanize him and all that. I’m sorry.” He glanced at Kirk for confirmation and almost wished he did not have to ask. “You noticed, huh?”

“It’s hard to miss. He’s in a royal snit. He’s breathing rarefied air. That’s all that’s available for him up there where his nose is pointed now. But it’s a wonder he’s getting any air at all, as out of joint as his nose is. You must’ve messed up really bad to get him to acting like this.”

“See? I understood what you said,” McCoy muttered to distract him. “Why can’t he understand me?”

But Kirk was not in the mood to be distracted. He wanted answers. And it wasn’t just personal.

A happy Vulcan means a happy ship. At least, that‘s the way it was on the Enterprise. Spock was almost the mascot of the crew‘s. They took their emotional lead from him. That fact would’ve surprised Spock, seeing as how he was always trying to suppress his own emotions. But it was nonetheless true. If he was happy, then the crew was happy, and everything hummed along nicely. Computers worked, meals appeared on time, no dire situations brought the Enterprise, and its captain, to their knees. The captain wanted things to stay that happy way.

But if Spock was unhappy, well, nobody was. And he let everyone know about his unhappiness with elegant silences and an acidic disdain that poured like venom from every little green pore that he possessed. Teenage girls could take lessons from him in dramatics and angst. He could hold seminars for aged movie goddesses long past their prime who still wanted to rule their studios and run over their underlings. Drama queens everywhere would applaud him and bow to his vast ability in making everyone uncomfortable. Spock was indeed the uncrowned champion at making his rancor known. If someone didn’t realize it, then that individual was either absent or dead.

And the crew felt off-balance until Spock was contented again. Until then, nothing worked right. Then it became Jim Kirk‘s problem because it reflected on his ability to command a ship. Besides, Spock was his friend, and he didn’t want his friend upset. And, oh, yeah, he felt off-balance, too, because of Spock‘s discontent. He was no less immune to the mascot worship as the rest of the crew.

But Kirk was also McCoy‘s friend, and he would council his friend to try to find a satisfactory solution for all.

“Is that the cause of all of this?” Kirk wanted to know. “Miscommunication between you and Spock?”

“That’s just part of it,” McCoy answered as he rubbed the back of his sore neck. He had a lot of sore places on himself. Apparently, he was tense, and his muscles kept clinching up on him. Even his damn muscles were letting him know that he‘d messed up! “It seems that I am the victim of a Good Samaritan. Sometimes, people just might not want any do-gooder adopting them. Sometimes you just want to be left alone and take pity on yourself. You’ve got an open wound, and you want to pester that little devil for all you’re worth. Know what I mean?“

“You knew you were miserable and in a shitty mood,” Kirk said in hollow tones. “But, damn it, it was your misery and shitty mood, and everybody better keep a respectable distance away. You were going to sit right there and wallow in the mess around you, no matter how bad the stink got. And you didn’t want anyone to try to make things all better or try to solve your problems. It was your dark mood, and you didn’t want any interference. Right?“

“Right!” He frowned. “Do you really have those kinds of moods? I thought that you were always optimistic and ready to take on the world.”

“Even Pollyanna sometimes gets the blues,” Kirk muttered. “Every once in awhile even she thinks that the universe sucks.”

“Wow!” McCoy said with awe. “Learn something new every day, I guess. You think you know a guy. Gee!”

“Yeah. Well, be protective of that knowledge, will you? And watch out, especially of those times when I can get a little extra clingy. Don‘t turn me away. I‘ll be needing you the most then. I'll be pretty fragile.”

“I remember. At the Academy, you’d get to thinking about your dad. And the fact that you’d never gotten the chance to know him. I couldn’t peel you off my arm at those times. I didn‘t think too much about it then. Hell, we were all having separation issues, of one sort or another. I just thought that it was awesome that super-stud Jim Kirk wanted to hang out with me. I didn‘t realize at the time how unusual it was that you wanted to stay so close to me. At times it was like you wanted to be an extra set of legs for me. We walked that much in tandem.”

“Well, it wasn’t for your benefit. I can assure you of that,” Kirk said with disgust at himself. “Now you can see how really weak I can be.”

“No, Jim, that just makes me love you more. You need me. Holy shit! Jim Kirk needs me! Jim Kirk NEEDS me! Jim Kirk needs ME!“

Kirk looked up with the hint of a smile brightening that handsome face. “Well, don’t let it go to your head, or anything weird like that.”

McCoy grinned. “That just fills me with so much extra awe that you chose me to be your friend. Out of this whole wide universe, you chose me!”

“I didn’t exactly have the whole universe to choose from at the time, Bones. Besides, I believe that we chose each other, and I couldn’t be happier with that choice.”

“Me, neither. Other times, a guy just wants to be alone and nurse his pain.“

“Yeah,“ Kirk agreed with a sad smile.

“Anyway, you can understand where I was coming from with my desire for privacy, but Spock couldn’t. The other day, Spock got a little pushy in his zeal to help me, and I objected. Then I was just trying to EXPLAIN that I didn’t want or need the smothering kind of help that he was offering when I guess I got a little exuberant with what I was saying. And I, ah, suppose my hand slipped a little as I was trying to state my case to him--”

Kirk glared at him.

“Alright, I shoved him out the door like an unwanted dust bunny in front of my broom and embarrassed him in front of passing crewmen! There! Is that what you wanted to hear?!”

“I wanted to hear the truth, that’s all.”

“Well, that is the truth.” McCoy cranked his sore neck around seeking relief from his psychic pain. Then he frowned in remembrance. “When even that wasn’t enough to drive him away, I, ah, lost my temper. And I, ah, well, I guess I, ah, bitch slapped him across that sanctimonious, virtuous kisser of his.” He frowned. “That action seemed to register with him. I finally had his attention.”

Kirk frowned, also. “You bitch slapped him?”

“Yeah, ah, hmm--”

“Like you would some woman?”

“Yeah,” McCoy answered with disgust and took a deep breath. “Just like that. But just a little bit.”

Kirk frowned. “How hard?”

“I‘m sure that his teeth rattled around in his head.” He sighed deeply. “It‘s a wonder that he didn‘t bite off the end of his tongue. The slap was that hard,” he mumbled in shame.

“And other people in the crew might have witnessed that scene?”

“Not might they have; they did see it. Everything. They had every opportunity to do just that. They didn‘t even have to work at it. We brought that spectacle to them.” He frowned darkly. “For free.”

“Bones--”

McCoy rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Well, you might as well know it all! That’s only round two!”

“Round two?” Kirk frowned. “I assume, by that, you mean that there was a round one?”

McCoy rolled his eyes and let his breath out noisily. “Yeah! A more private one. Previously. In my quarters. Just a few moments before.”

“Care to fill me in?” He studied McCoy. “I’m assuming that’s why you’re practically lying prostrate in front of some cross now that you can see, and I can’t. And you’re trying to beat your chest bloody with self-incrimination. You want to confess, and I’m the designated priest.”

He frowned as he glanced at Kirk. “That, ah, about sums it up, Father.” He shook his head in anger at himself. “I mean, Jim.”

Kirk rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. “Well, Bones? Or should I say, well, my son? And add that I can see that your heart is heavy?”

“Jim!”

“Your analogy, not mine. Anyway, continue.”

“Well, you know Spock made this, ah, offer, for me to, ah, grab him instead of, ah, the bottle whenever I felt the, ah, need to, ah--”

“Yes.”

“Well, I didn’t do it in quite that order.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I guess I needed to work my courage up to grab him, like he said. You don’t exactly walk up to a Vulcan and start romancing the guy! It’s a little daunting! Hell, I don’t even know if they have to blink to keep their eyes moist! That double eyelid probably doesn’t require it. It just adds to their aloofness! They aren’t the warmest creatures out there! Or the most helpful in the romance department. They don’t do a whole lot to get the old generators humming, if you know what I mean! Anyway, I hunted him up and just grabbed him. I figured he was ready, anytime. His truth, not mine. That’s what he’d been hinting at, and, well, hell, just plain saying for a long time! Truth was, I wasn’t ready. He was still willing, though, and that unnerved me. He wasn‘t acting like Spock.”

“His idea of helping, I suppose, was sacrificing himself for the cause.“ He studied McCoy. “How come I’m picturing the pure hearted virgin being tied to the railroad tracks by the black hearted villain? The trouble is, I don’t know which of you is the pure hearted virgin, and which is the black hearted villain.“ He couldn’t quite accept what next flashed through his mind. “Did you really crush Spock in a bear hug like that? Sweet, unsuspecting Spock?”

“I know that I’m a dirty dog! I know I’ve done wrong! I feel like I’ve put day-old puppies out in an ice storm! And then watched them freeze to death while I sat beside a roaring fire and laughed in glee at their whimpering!” He calmed himself. “But I accomplished what I had set out to do! Now the Vulcan doesn’t want a damn thing to do with me. He’s done a one-eighty on his desire to help me. Or even wanting to be around me.”

“Can you blame him?! He probably feels that he was huddling right out there in the cold with those freezing puppies!“ He studied McCoy. “It looks like he was willing to sacrifice, now you might have to do a little bit of sacrificing, yourself.“

“What do you mean?“

“You might have to decide which is more important. Spock and me, or drinking. Let me put that another way. Your career, your whole life, or drinking.”

“The way I see it, I’ve just got something else to drive me to drink.”

“You need to try to become better friends with him. I think you don‘t want to risk losing him completely.”

“Now, he’s a problem. And I think you can understand why. Jim, you and Spock are important to me. Spock may be gone. I don’t know. I just know that I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“You won’t. But Spock, that might be a whole different story. You have to understand. He trusted us enough to let his guard down. He trusted us to be careful with his emotions. I know that catering to one person isn’t realistic in a relationship. But in this one, it is. At least for awhile. He doesn’t understand the give and take of friendship. That’s why we have to be so careful around him.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Jim. He’s always pissed me off. We clashed.”

“You think that he and I didn’t?!”

“I know. I watched it. How did you and he get to be friends?”

“I forced him. That’s the whole difference between you and me and our dealings with him. I forced him to come along with me. Because we had to learn to work together. And now we can. Although, sometimes still, that condescending voice of his really grates on my nerves. But he’s smart and fearless and loyal. And lonely and clueless. But I like him. I know what he’ll do in a situation. How he’ll react. I can work with him, but I don’t know if you two can. And that’s bad for me. You two have my back. And I need to trust absolutely who has that. I don’t even know if you two can ever work together. That’s bad, for everybody. It’s bad for the Enterprise. And it’s bad for both of you. Because, sometimes, you’ll be thrown together.”

“Look, I’ll try talking to him again.”

“Please, do.”

“I’ll try to be patient. Even the Saints won’t recognize me. They won't have a clue.”

“Just so you get through to Spock, I don’t care who you have to fool.”

“Look, there’s lots of guys who would be proud to be seen with you,“ McCoy said reasonably. “Pick Chekov. He’s sweet. Sulu would be a good nurturer. Even Scotty would be fine. He’s older, but I’m all wrong for you. I’d hurt you. Besides, you can’t be what I need, neither. You couldn’t be enough.”

“I want to try.”

McCoy felt a rush of relief. He still had a chance to keep his friendship with Spock. “I know you want to try. And I love you for it.”

“You love me?” Spock asked hopefully.

“For that! For that! Stop twisting my words! Look, I like you well enough. It isn’t that.”

Spock looked hopeful again.

“But, not enough. Not enough for that. Understand?”

“I am sorry that I am not enough.”

“Look. It isn’t a failure in you. See? It’s me! I’m just not enough for you.”

“But what if I think you are?”

“Oh, God, but you’re sweet! Look, you just don’t understand the ins and the outs of a relationship, especially the kind that you are proposing between us. You've got love and being in love all mixed up. And then there's friendship. And its extreme in more than one way, lust. There are so many facets to these types of feelings. You're way over your head here. Sorry. Sorry. My fault. Look, you really don't understand what you're getting into, and I'm the wrong one to teach you about it. You couldn't handle it.”

“Then, you do not trust me?”

“I, ah, I guess I don’t.” McCoy frowned. “That isn’t right, is it?”

“You tell me,” Spock snipped. “You are the one who knows all about relationships. Apparently, I do not.”

“Don’t go away all wounded.”

“Just, go away?” Spock asked with a dangerous edge to his voice.

“See? Right there. You have angst.”

“So, the rules are that you can have angst, but I cannot?”

“Of course not! That would hardly be fair! I’d want you to stay independent!”

“So, I would have to be on constant guard that I was doing everything correctly. And just the way YOU would want me to behave.”

“Now you’re twisting my words again!” He watched Spock struggle with the rebuff and the beginnings of anger. “Look, Spock, I know I’m hurting you now,” he said softly. “But it’s better to be hurt a little bit now than a lot later on. And, kid, I would hurt you. So bad.” He felt tears smarting his eyes. “And I couldn’t stand doing that. At least, not to you. You are that special to me. In more than one way. And I would be so honored. To have you. I’d be the luckiest damn idiot in the universe. And I’m the dumbest damn idiot in that same universe to turn you away. But I am. Because I’m no good for you. You, with no experience of handling emotions except to deny them, have picked the last person in the universe to have a relationship with.”

“You do not trust me.”

“I don’t trust myself! I can’t manage myself. How could I manage being in a relationship with you, too?”

“You do not trust me,” Spock repeated.

McCoy gave up. “I suppose I don’t,” he muttered and turned away without another word.

“Alright, guys, what’s going on?” Kirk wanted to know. “If you’re fighting, you need to get it settled. We can’t be a team, otherwise.”

“Look, Jim, we’re working on it.”

“No, you’re not, Bones. You’re putting distance between yourselves, or trying to. Even when you’re working side by side, you’re working harder at maintaining that distance than you are at the task at hand. You’re wasting energy! Spock, the counter productivity of that obvious waste of motion, energy, and thought should appeal to you, if nothing else.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Spock, we‘re off duty now. We’re in my quarters. No one else will hear us. What we say will not go beyond these walls. Professional protocol will not be breached. The crew will not lose their respect for us if we relax. It's alright. You may call me Jim.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Don’t be so damned prissy!” Kirk wiped his brow. “Sorry. You can be a little frustrating, do you know that, Spock?”

“I have been informed of that condition in me; yes.”

Kirk glanced at McCoy. “Is this what it’s like?”

“Now you can see my problem.” McCoy rolled his eyes toward Spock. “At least, part of it.”

“So,” Spock snipped. “Once again the alien is at fault.” His voice dripped with condescension.

“You aren’t playing fair, Spock!” Kirk protested.

“So, you are making up the rules as we go? Dr. McCoy does that, also.”

Kirk sputtered. “That is not what I meant!”

“See what I'm getting at?” McCoy muttered at Kirk’s elbow.

“So now the Earthlings are ganging up on the alien?”

“Spock! Stop it! McCoy and I aren’t doing any such thing! And don’t insinuate that we are being prejudiced toward you! We are not! We are just trying to have a civilized conversation with you! Stop trying to create something that isn’t there!”

“Of course, Captain. I did not see where I was at fault. Thank you for pointing it out so succinctly to me. I assume that you will continue to point out my faults so that I may continue to correct my behavioral patterns. Apparently you will only be too happy to do that.”

Kirk stared at him while he breathed through his opened mouth. “How in the hell do you take it, Bones?”

“Welcome to my little corner of hell, Jim,” McCoy muttered in answer. “You’d think that a Vulcan who comes from such a hot planet would burn the hell out of you. But, no, the danger is actually from frostbite.”

“If you gentlemen are finished with the Vulcan bashing, I will leave.”

“You can understand idioms now?” Kirk asked in amazement.

“I do not know if that is an idiom, or simply just a term. Or an expression. Jim,” he added in this snippy, condescending voice that would surely drive anybody to do justifiable bodily harm to him.

How in the hell had McCoy put up with Spock’s snide remarks and behavior for as long as he had, Kirk wondered? The little green bastard could certainly make his displeasure known. Any carping woman wishing to hand out guilt to her loved ones would approve of and be awed by Spock’s methods. But Kirk sure as hell didn’t.

And how did I get in this pissing contest anyway, Kirk wondered. It’s a no win situation. All he could see that he had accomplished was that now he and Spock would have to tiptoe around each other, much the way that Spock and McCoy were already doing. At least it would give the martyred Vulcan something to do. But, as with McCoy, Kirk worried that he had lost hard won ground with Spock on a social level. Not that Spock now loved him any less, but that Spock was now more leery and jaded of that love.

Kirk frowned. He and McCoy hadn’t failed in their teaching of Spock. In fact, they were excelling in their teaching of human relationships. Their current lesson seemed to be that loved ones can be devious and deliberately hurtful. And they took advantage of any connection or tender feeling from the other person.

Kirk frowned again. Maybe that kind of teacher wasn’t only human. Spock seemed quite capable of inflicting pain on people who loved him. Kirk now had ample proof that that trait was apparently, and indeed, universal.

Kirk was conflicted. He wanted to shake reason and sense into Spock. His palm itched to bitch slap the Vulcan across that smug, yet tragically martyred face. Yet, underneath it all, Kirk saw what it was costing Spock. The Vulcan was going to keep up his stubborn façade, because that was all that Spock had been raised to do.

But Kirk could tell that it was all that Spock could do to keep from crying. So Kirk and McCoy meant something to Spock, after all. Really, who else did Spock have except the crew of the Enterprise? Spock loved his father and yearned to please Sarek, but Sarek held himself aloof. The old man must really be a ball breaker to try to please. What Kirk had seen of Sarek interacting with Spock had shown Kirk that much. Yet Spock kept trying, just as he was trying now with McCoy.

It was a wonder that Spock could even manage to get up in the mornings.

“Let’s back off, guys,” Kirk said softly. “Let’s take some time to cool off and rethink our situation. I think that will do us all some good. I believe that we‘ll be able to find a solution yet, if we just work on it. But not today. Let‘s just give it a rest.”

McCoy frowned and Spock looked startled, then grateful.

“If you will excuse me, Jim,” Spock requested civilly, “I would like to meditate. I have a lot to consider.”

“Of course. See you at supper?” Kirk asked warmly.

Spock’s eyes softened somewhat as he dared to let his guard down more. “Yes, Jim, I would like that,” he said carefully. He glanced at McCoy and nodded. “Doctor. Good afternoon.”

McCoy nodded back, then waited until the door closed on Spock to confront Kirk. “What was that all about?!”

“Empathy, Bones. Compassion. At the end of the day, that guy needs us. He might try to deny it to us and to himself, but we can never forget it. He doesn’t realize what life would be like without us. And losing him would put a big hole in my life, just like losing you would. I don’t want to go through either experience.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I wouldn’t want to lose him, or you, either. But he wants something from me that he’s not asking of you. There‘s a little bit more involved than just friendship.”

“That’s because he thinks that’s what you need. You might need to sober up to get him off your back.”

“I hope you’re meaning that figuratively.”

“Would the other be so bad, Bones? Think of it. A willing body wanting yours. There are worse things that could come your way.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m an ungrateful jerk. And you probably agree with that. In fact, you might decide that I'm just a plain jerk.” He saw Kirk's puzzled look. "There’s, ah, more,“ he admitted with a frown.

Kirk frowned then, too. “More?“

McCoy nodded, then winced. “When I had him in that bear hug--”

Kirk‘s frown deepened. “Yes-s-s?”

“I kissed him. Right on the mouth. I kissed him.” He sighed. “And it wasn’t a nice little sweetheart kiss, either. It was the most humiliating thing I could come up with.” He lowered his head in humiliation. "And my hands--”

“Yes-s-s?”

McCoy raised his head, breathed deeply, and looked wild. “My hands were all over his body! I felt things that only his doctor, or his lover should feel.” He frowned. “But at that moment, I was neither.”

Kirk used McCoy’s favorite expression to voice his disgust with him.

“I was the lowest of the low. I humiliated him, and I disgusted myself. Nothing good should have come out of something like that. But it did. I felt something, Jim. I felt something for Spock, something I wasn’t expecting to feel. And it felt right. Then lustful. It made me feel things. Bedroom things. That pissed me off at the time. I was disgusted at my own base urges. But the more I thought about it later, the better I liked the idea of, well, him and me, ah, maybe, you know. Getting together. And I‘d like to tell him that. But now he probably doesn’t want, you know, to hear about any nice feelings I might have for him or, ah, my horny condition.”

“Can you blame him?! You didn’t exactly act like someone with good intentions!”

“I know. Say anything you feel like, and I’ll agree with you. Because you’ll be right. And you’ll be right about the other thing you’re thinking. I don’t deserve him.”

“It sounds like you need to mend some fences with him. Forget about the other for awhile. There may never be a good time for that, if ever.”

“I know. I think that I’ve lost Spock now, as a friend and as a potential lover. But I’ll take your advice. I’ll try to salvage what I can with him.”

"That’s all I can see for you now. Try to save your friendship with him." He gave McCoy a serious look. "Because your career here on the Enterprise may well depend upon it.”

Chapter Text

“Spock! Come in! Come in! Don’t be standing there in the hallway like that! Come in and make yourself comfortable!“ McCoy knew he was cackling, but he couldn’t stop himself. He wondered if Spock was as ill at ease as he felt. Probably, but the damn Vulcan would most likely swallow a red hot anvil without a sound before he would admit to any discomfort. Most likely, his eyelids would barely flutter as the blistering heat furrowed a path down his throat.

Much like McCoy wished his erect penis could do.

Maybe he could even get Spock’s eyelids to flutter.

Man, he had to get that image out of his mind!

“Boy, you’re right on time!”

“You said nineteen hundred hours,” Spock reminded him.

“Ha ha! And so I did! Well, did you have a good day?!”

“You should know, Doctor,” Spock replied with some puzzlement. “We worked together in the laboratory.”

“So we did! So we did! But I meant after that! What did you do for recreation?!”

Spock shrugged. “I swam a few laps and then I meditated in my quarters.”

“It sounds like you enjoyed a well rounded day of activities for a well-rounded person!” McCoy said jovially as he slapped Spock on the arm.

Spock looked pointedly at the hand resting on his arm.

“Ah, sorry about that,” McCoy said as he removed his hand. “I guess I had too much caffeine for supper. Sometimes it affects me thus way.”

“You need to be careful of artificial stimulants, Doctor,” Spock said stiffly.

McCoy worked up the nerve to study Spock closely. “That’s good advice, Mr. Spock. I appreciate it.”

“You are most welcome, Dr. McCoy,” Spock replied in carefully chosen words.

This was going to be one strained meeting. But McCoy had nobody to blame but himself. He had been the one to create such awful tension between them. And now, he realized, what a mistake that had been. The Vulcan had simply been offering friendship. And if that had failed to help McCoy, he had been willing to offer McCoy the use of his body. Now, that was friendship!

Part of the reason that McCoy had turned down Spock’s offer could be blamed on the wide streak of decency running through him. McCoy had tried to deny its existence, but it still came through from time to time. He wasn’t the utter asshole that he claimed to be. He still remembered some of those Biblical teachings drilled into him by his people. And the principles of his medical profession were always lurking in the near background to prompt him into doing the right thing. And he was, at heart, he supposed, a good person. Although, he thought, don’t let that get around.

He took a second look at Spock. Trim and fit and filling out an officer’s uniform just about as nicely as anybody could. Bulges in all the right places. Arm muscles and back muscles nicely developed. Compact hips. Now, a person could stare at that area all evening. And that nice little rise in the front of Spock’s trousers--

Don’t think about that, he reprimanded himself. You turned that down. Remember? Well, Stupid. Do you remember?! And you were stupid, by the way! So, don’t go dreaming about that beautiful body standing before you now! You can’t have! No touchy, touchy!

But the package! Oh, my God! The package! Take a look, damn it! So at least you’ll have the memory, if nothing else! Look! Feast your eyes!

Yeah, that’s it! Oh! Yeah! A masterpiece!

He knew he was giving Spock a stupid look, but what could anyone expect?

“Is there a problem, Dr. McCoy?”

“No, ah, just a little warm in here, I expect.”

“I do not notice the heat, Doctor.”

“You wouldn’t,” McCoy muttered.

“Pardon?”

“I say, you wouldn’t notice the heat since you prefer warmer temperatures.”

“That is correct. I find it rather chilly in here myself. See the goose bumps on my forearm?”

“Where?” McCoy asked as he acted like he did not understand where Spock was indicating. In the meantime, McCoy was looking everywhere else on Spock’s body except his arm. His hungry eyes really drank in that trim Vulcan body. Forget the Mona Lisa. Forget the Eiffel Tower. Forget the Egyptian Pyramids. McCoy had found his piece of classical art to admire and study. This was a splendid masterpiece before him. McCoy couldn't thank Amanda Grayson and Sarek enough for their magnificent creation.

Oh, boy, but Spock looked hot! How had McCoy ever turned that down?! But now was not the time to be hashing over that decision in his mind.

Yeah, the Vulcan looked hot. But he was also standing there just inside the door of McCoy’s quarters looking like he was holding the whole weave and structure of the universe together with his taut muscles alone. And for all McCoy knew, Spock may well be doing just that thing. If anyone could perform that Herculean feat, it would be Spock.

McCoy told himself that Spock’s grave demeanor was due to the Vulcan’s reluctance to being in McCoy’s quarters again. He was probably skeptical of his reception and of McCoy’s motives. Spock had nothing to worry about concerning his reception. McCoy’s motives might be another issue. McCoy wasn’t too sure of his own motives, himself.

And hot looking or not, Spock did not act like he was about to repeat his original offer of friendship with benefits. But McCoy would be very receptive if the original offer was repeated. He would stun the Vulcan with his rapid acceptance. There would be no hesitation or playing hard to get from Leonard H. McCoy. No, sirree! Not this time!

The friendship. The friendship was the important thing, McCoy reminded himself. Don‘t mess this friendship up with the crazy sex thing. Think with your head instead of your penis. Besides, that’s all in the past now.

Sigh.

Onward and upward, McCoy!

“Okay, Jim asked us to try to find a solution to this little misunderstanding that seems to be between us. That is why I asked you to come to my quarters today. Ah, thank you, by the way, for accepting my invitation,“ McCoy said formally.

“I am quite ready to comply with the Captain’s request, Doctor.“ And that is the only reason I am here, Spock’s body language certainly seemed to imply.

“Well, surely, we can find some common ground.“ McCoy sighed to himself. Already the Vulcan was looking clueless. “That was my fault. I meant to say that surely we can find areas in which we agree. Is that agreeable to you?“

“Most certainly, Doctor. I am always willing to cooperate with you and Captain Kirk to the benefit of all.“

“Yeah, ah, that’s, ah, good.“ McCoy frowned. This assignment was going to be tough to do. “Ah, well, if you’d like to try this, would you like to, ah, get started?”

“Of course, Dr. McCoy. I will let you assume leadership in this endeavor since I am not cognizant of your strategy.”

“We’re not leading a landing party to some unknown planet! We’re not taking out on some mission with no idea of what we’re doing!“ He stopped and thought. “Although, now that I think about it, that description might not be too far off base.” He glanced at Spock who seemed ready to pose a question. “Too far from being wrong.”

Spock nodded with understanding.

“Ah, maybe the first thing is that we should call each other something not so formal. I could be Leonard and you could, ah, be, ah…. What the hell other name do you go by besides Spock?!”

Spock tried to be helpful. “Mister?”

“That’s no help! That would put us back to your calling me ‘Doctor’!”

“I am more comfortable with that.”

“Titles?! Using titles, instead of names?!”

“Perhaps you are correct in your premise. Your calling me ‘Mister’ might cause some puzzlement from the crew.“ He frowned. “And it would definitely provide a lot of hilarity for the Captain.”

“Yes, I could see him splitting a gut over that situation.”

Spock showed concern. “The Captain would injure his abdomen from laughing? Wouldn’t that cause his intestines to spill out? Is his abdominal wall actually that weak? Oh, you are correct, Doctor,” Spock remarked seriously. “You cannot call me ‘Mister.’”

“He wouldn’t actually split a gut….”

“Then, why did you say that he would?”

“It’s just another one of those pesky idioms that throw you a curve.”

“Throw me a curve?”

McCoy looked upward and rolled his eyes, then he tried again. “That was my fault. I should’ve never tried to explain an idiom by using another idiom in the explanation.” He frowned. “I had no idea that we Earthlings use so many idioms in our language.”

“I believe that not all Earthings do. Just those who speak the English language.”

McCoy looked at Spock thoughtfully for a few moments. “I don't believe it, but it's true," he finally said gravely. "It's something I've never seen before.”

"What?" Spock asked, mystified.

"You’ve got a point."

Spock looked alarmed. “Where? Where do I have a point?” He touched an ear. “Are you referring to the ones on the tops of my ears? And why bring them into the conversation at this time? Were you trying to change the subject? And if so, why would you do that? We were discussing the English language, and then you abruptly changed the subject to my physiognomy. If you do not mind, that is rather a personal topic with me. I prefer not to speak about my ears. I know that they look different from yours.”

McCoy was rendered speechless. How in the hell did Spock come up with all of that shit?! McCoy didn’t know if he could find his own way back, let alone try to guide Spock back onto the right conversational path. McCoy didn’t know if he could ever have a proper discussion with the Vulcan. McCoy’s speech patterns were apparently littered with idioms, and Spock’s were not. They were never going to be able to understand each other.

This must have been how the guys who were trying to build the Tower of Babel felt when they all started speaking different languages.

“What are you staring at, Doctor, with your mouth hanging open like that? Are you looking at my point? If you are, it is making me uncomfortable. You generally do not show prejudice against me. Why are you doing so now?”

McCoy managed to shut his mouth, but it was difficult to do so. “It’s not any point of yours that I was staring at. It was you yourself.”

“Then, why did you say--”

“I don’t know. I just had a crazy moment, I guess.” He brought himself out of it. “I can’t believe that someone could twist and contort my words so thoroughly….”

“Me? I was trying to straighten out your words.”

“Well, you weren’t succeeding! All you were getting accomplished was baffling the hell out of me! And, now, that makes two of us who don’t have a clue about what is going on!”

“Clues? Clues have been given?” Spock asked in a panic.

With a frown, McCoy stared at Spock for a long moment. “Are you shitting me?! Are you really, and truly, shitting me?!”

When a puzzled Spock opened his mouth to try to form an adequate answer, McCoy held up his hand.

“Don’t! For all that’s holy, don’t! Don’t even TRY to answer that one! I can only imagine what would come out of your mouth! And it wouldn‘t have a damn thing to do with what I‘ve been talking about!”

“Then why did you ask--”

“I don’t know!" McCoy answered in frustration. "Just to hear myself talk, I suppose.”

“Could you not do that better in private? At a more convenient time when you are not actively engaged in conversation with someone else? Then you would have no distractions.”

“What?” McCoy asked, now puzzled himself. “Distractions? To do, what?”

“To hear yourself talk.”

McCoy gnashed his teeth together and began muttering. “Fifty-four is one. Seventy-eight is two. Ten is three--”

“What are you saying, Dr. McCoy? I cannot quite make it out. Even if I try to listen closely, I cannot quite understand you.”

“Seventeen is four. I am.” McCoy breathed deeply. “Counting. One hundred and nine is five--”

“What?”

“I am counting!” McCoy answered in a louder voice. “Have you suddenly gone deaf?! Where is that famous Vulcan hearing I understand you possess?! I! Am! Counting!”

“Not what you are doing, Doctor. I can hear that you are counting. I wanted to know what are you counting?”

“Oh.“ McCoy forced himself not to react. Deep breaths. Just take deep breaths. There. See? Better. He could handle this situation. Easy. Just, take, deep, breaths. “Numbers,” McCoy answered in a calmer voice and felt proud of his new won control over his temper. “I was counting numbers.”

“Counting numbers? But, why? I have heard of counting sheep, counting calories, counting almost anything, but never counting numbers.”

“Spock!”

“Yes?”

“Will you just.”

“Just?”

“Just.” McCoy took a deep breath and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Just shut up!”

Spock blinked, but he did shut up. He was always willing to cooperate, even if he was trying to get clarification.

“That was certainly uncalled for,” McCoy muttered.

“I am sorry. I was simply--”

“What I did, not what you said! That‘s what was uncalled for! You have no need to apology for something I did wrong!”

“Oh. I thought I was in the wrong.“

“No. It was me this time.“

“I am concerned, that is all.”

“I know you are. Fifty-one is nineteen--”

“You have reached the nineteenth number? I had heard only five numbers designated. I am sorry that I did not hear numbers six through eighteen. Would you repeat those numbers, please?”

"No."

"But I did not hear the numbers verbalized."

“Some numbers can be silent,” he replied mysteriously, with just a hint of mania in his voice and a definite wildness in his eyes.

Spock chose, however, to ignore the obvious clues in McCoy's barely controlled body. “Really? Then how am I to remember them?”

McCoy gave him a dangerous, exaggerated smile. “The counting is for my benefit, not yours.”

“Not for my benefit?”

“No.”

“Or knowledge.”

“No!”

“Then, why?”

“Just because”

“Because?”

“Because.”

“Ah--”

“Just because! Alright?! Just because!”

Spock studied McCoy. Fascinating. It was almost as if the man was hyperventilating, or in the process of actually exploding. That might be an interesting phenomenon to observe, if it would not pose such an obvious threat to McCoy's well-being. Spock toyed with the idea of inquiring about McCoy's health, but there were so many other things that he wished to know, also. A part of him considered that now might not be the time to press McCoy further, though. The good doctor did tend to get too involved in conversations, as if the verbal exchanges were something personal instead of mere theoretical suppositions. Perhaps another time might be better, but McCoy had invited him to try to talk out their problems. And Jim Kirk did want them to reach some kind of accord between themselves.

Spock did not know what to do.

Then Spock’s curiosity got the better of him as he watched McCoy’s lips moving and realized that McCoy must be counting numbers again. Fascinating! Such discipline! How intriguing! The doctor was a man of many skills! Spock had not realized! He must learn more about McCoy's opinions and interests.

Among those other things Spock wished to know, he wondered what number McCoy was on.

“If your counting numbers does not need to be shared with anybody, why are you doing so at the moment? Would that not also be one of those solitary activities of yours, such as hearing yourself talk?”

“Two hundred and nineteen is twenty-seven!”

Wow! Twenty-seven! Spock was impressed. McCoy was making great headway with his number counting. And Spock had learned where McCoy was at in his counting. Two questions answered for the price of one! Spock was really impressed!

“Doctor?”

“Yes?” McCoy answered in a low voice.

Spock should have heeded the warning in that low, menacing voice. But he didn’t. He was on a roll. Although he wouldn’t have recognized it as such. He would have explained that he was maintaining an upright position in a stationary place and not actually rolling. “I would like to voice an observation.“

“Alright,“ McCoy responded in the same low voice. “What is your observation?”

Still Spock continued. The good doctor seemed interested, also! “Numbers are simply numbers. Are they not? Is that some sort of new mental exercise for scientists and mathematicians?”

“It could be.” McCoy allowed himself to be sidetracked by this new slant. “Now that I think about it, yes, it could well be. I might well start a trend in the scientific community. After all, numbers are just hanging around out there, are they not? Just taking up perfectly good room, not doing much. Why not put them to some use? In some logical order. Sure, why not? Why not COUNT them?!” He had acquired a wild, insane gleam to his eyes with an evil smile to match. He looked like he was actually starting to enjoy this repartee.

That’s when Spock realized that McCoy was at a serious breaking point. But Spock could not understand why. Spock was simply seeking answers to McCoy‘s rather puzzling statements. After all, McCoy was the one who kept making these puzzling statements, not Spock. Spock was just trying to keep up in the conversation. Was it his fault that he needed clarification, as he did now?

Spock took a deep breath and hoped for the best. “And what is the purpose of your counting numbers?”

McCoy was ready for him. The gleam and the smile deepened. “To keep myself occupied.”

“Why?” Spock persisted, although he felt like he was dangerously close to a sticky spider web. He felt compelled to keep on talking, much as a housefly keeps buzzing closer to that sticky web. Sometimes, you just gotta reach for that Pandora‘s box, even if you know it might not work out all that good for you.

Sparks might have actually flown from McCoy’s eyes. “So that I am not considering the pleasures of what I really have in mind to do.”

“And that is?”

McCoy visibly drew himself back. “You don’t want to know, Mr. Spock. You don’t want to know. But it involves my hands.” Lurid possibilities tempted him again and resulted in an evil grin stretching his face. “My hands, Mr. Spock.“ His eyes danced with glee. “And your neck!”

Spock considered the dangerous gleam in McCoy’s eyes. “I believe that I now can understand your reasons for caution, Doctor. And I highly concur with your deductions.”

“Do you now? Well, I’m glad that you are finally beginning to see the light.” McCoy's mouth dropped open as he saw startled interest cross Spock's face. In one horrifying moment, McCoy realized what he had just said.

McCoy squinted his eyes shut into sinister slits and held up a trembling hand. “Don’t! Don’t even! Don’t you dare look for a light!” McCoy muttered in a threatening voice. “If you turn your head now, if you so much as roll your eyes from side to side, if any part of you rotates in anything that resembles a search pattern, whatsoever, you and I will have a serious discussion, here and now, about any such movement on your part!”

Spock was curious about the whereabouts of a light that apparently Dr. McCoy could see, but he could not, even though the good doctor thought that Spock was beginning to see it. How could McCoy have knowledge of what Spock could see, but Spock did not? That piqued Spock's interest as did McCoy's mysterious light. Spock would really like to observe that light for himself, thereby giving validity to Dr. McCoy's faith in him, if nothing else. But Spock chose to control his eyes as it seemed to have become quite important to Dr. McCoy for him to do so.

Instead, Spock voiced another concern of his since he was curious about that, also.

“I was under the assumption that we were already having a serious discussion, Doctor.”

“Wrong!”

“Wrong?”

“That’s right. I mean, wrong! Wrong! I am discussing! While you, you, YOU! You are driving me crazy!”

“I do not drive, Doctor. I can fly vehicles, but I do not drive any of them.”

McCoy threw up his hands. “That’s it! I’m through!”

“You are through? But we have not even started….”

“It depends on what we were trying to start. I believe that our objective shifted somewhere in this discussion.” McCoy waved his hand airily above his head as he looked at the floor in defeat. “Just, just leave.”

“But--”

“It‘s no good. It won‘t work. Just, just leave. Please.”

“Will the Captain not be disappointed if we fail in our assignment?“ Spock asked.

The Captain’s gonna shit himself, McCoy thought, but wisely decided not to share his theory with the literal Vulcan. Jim would also probably be too dumbfounded to speak, and McCoy wouldn't be able to explain adequately. But that problem lay in the remote future. Right now, he had another situation that required his attention. He really just wanted a nap or a drink or a spike through his head. Anything, to distract him. Instead, he looked up into the earnest face awaiting his answer. “I suppose he will be disappointed,“ he answered softly.

“Then, should we not--“

“No!“

“But--“

“I’m begging you!" McCoy pleaded with his last ounces of civility and sanity strained to the maximum. "If you hold anything holy at all in that convoluted brain of yours, just leave! If you place any value on our friendship whatsoever, just, just, just.” He breathed deeply. “Just! Shut! Up! And leave! Now!” Then he lowered his head in defeat.

Spock studied McCoy’s bent head, then complied.

“Before you say anything, Jim, I expect that the Vulcan is perplexed.”

“That’s putting it mildly, Bones.”

The Captain hadn’t required changing into clean clothes when he heard that the assignment hadn’t gone well. Kirk hadn't lost control of his bowels, after all, or of his power of speech, which McCoy had really feared. He was simply baffled. “I don’t get it. Screw someone. How difficult is that? Shut your eyes if you can't stand looking at him, but fuck his eyeballs out! Anything, just so you get this mess between you two settled! I know that I didn’t exactly give you that order, but anyone smart enough to make it through medical school and Starfleet Academy should surely be able to read that much between the lines.”

“We got off on the wrong foot.“

“To say the least! Spock is baffled as hell! And I can‘t say that I blame him. What were you doing? Why were you throwing every idiom you could think of at him so fast that he felt like he was under sub-machine gun fire? What was that? I’m thinking of giving him an urban dictionary that he can carry around with him. He’s still muttering about what you said. The poor guy may never be the same.”

“Him? What about me?! All I wanted was a little romance, Jim. I was just wanting to start something physical with him, and we wound up in a debate on syntax. Or something. I‘m not exactly sure what all of that was.”

“I don’t get it. I use idioms with him, and he understands me.”

“Maybe he has a mental block when it comes to me.”

Kirk thought. “There are times, though, that I think some of my idioms throw him. Maybe I just don’t take the time to explain what I’m saying. I just plow ahead and expect him to catch up eventually. Which he generally does.”

“If I wouldn’t have known better in that last discussion, I would’ve said that he was deliberately trying to sidetrack me. But he was the one who originally wanted to get naked and sweaty, not me. And now this.”

“I think he still does, at least on an abstract level.”

McCoy frowned. “There’s nothing abstract about two people going at it, hot and heavy. Logic and philosophy shouldn’t be allowed in the bedroom. I guess that’s the problem with him and me. We‘re too opposite each other.”

“No, I’d say that the problem is too much talk and not enough action.”

“I agree. See? You and I understand each other. Maybe we should get together.”

Kirk gave him a lazy smile. “Anytime. Want to relive those old Academy days when we were roomies?“

“Those were great times, weren’t they?“ McCoy recalled. “The beer parties? The women? The trouble we were always getting into? The threatened suspensions?“

“Yeah, great memories. And we had some great private moments, too. Just you and me. But that won’t help your situation with Spock any.” He studied McCoy. “I’m saying, and this is pure conjecture on my part, understand. But I’m saying that if you walked into a bedroom right now, and Spock and I were already in it, you wouldn’t even notice me. I might be spread out all naked on the bed and smiling in eagerness as I waited for you. I might be all lubed up and three-fingered stretched out for your convenience, so you could get right at it. I might be ready and agreeable for any kind of action that you could think of. I might be that available, no questions asked, no holding back. And you’d know all that about me when you were walking into the bedroom. And you'd have time to anticipate what was waiting for you. And still, and still, you would walk right past me to get to the clothed Vulcan with the crossed arms over his chest and the surly look on his face. Just so he could mean mouth you some more! And you'd be willing to settle for anything you got from him, even if it was only a chance to get a sniff of his green ass!”

“Well, I don’t know about all of that. If you were all lubed up and three-fingered stretched open, that might be awfully tempting, especially with those bedroom eyes of yours promising all kinds of adventures. That would be difficult to pass up.”

“I’m saying that if I was lying there with my face buried in the pillows and my ass raised off the bed and gaping wide open so you could see three inches down inside my glistening colon, you would still walk right past me to get to that Vulcan ball breaker! Hell, you'd be running!”

“Three inches would be a long ways to be able to see down inside you, especially just by walking by. I might want to see if I could look further inside your rectum and colon. Not everybody would get an opportunity at a Starfleet Captain‘s ass like that everyday.”

“I’m saying that the only reason you’d even consider looking at me, let alone anything else, is just to get the Vulcan jealous! That’s how hung up I think you are on him, and you don’t even realize it!”

“Oh, I realize it. That kiss I laid on him is still burning my lips.” He frowned in thought. “And something else deep inside me.”

“That’s what I figured. You can think about only him. Besides, now isn’t the time for something springing up between the two of us.”

“Thanks for considering it, though. Apparently, I’m not currently available.”

“Not saying, it wouldn’t be great between us, and everything, Bones. For old times sake, and all of that. At best, it would delay a satisfactory solution between you and Spock. It would at least muddy the waters for all three of us. At worst, it would throw all kinds of cold water all over your ‘little romance‘ with Spock. Your heart, and body,” he added with a grin, “would be in a lather, though. You‘d sure as hell get some heart action going, in more than one way!”

“I dare you to say those last few things to Spock that you’ve just said to me. With just those words. With all of those misleading phrases that would throw a clueless Vulcan into hyper drive. And EXPLAIN to him just what you meant. Then, come back and tell me about your progress of making him understand you. It might cause him permanent damage. You had one or two idioms in your statement that would pop something permanently out of place in his Vulcan brain. It might get ugly.”

“He really has that much trouble with idioms?”

“Oh, yes! Awhile ago, I told you that he and I got off on the wrong foot. I knew that you understood me, so I knew I wouldn‘t have to explain to you what I meant. But can you imagine what he could’ve made out of that remark? Then he would’ve proceeded to have a tangent about which foot was correct for sexual intercourse.”

“You’re shitting me!”

“I shit you not! This is how the man thinks! So you try to explain what you really meant and by accident use an idiom in that explanation, and then you really get mired in! His puzzled face tells you that much! Pretty soon, for your own preservation if nothing else, you throw in the towel. You’ve had enough!”

“It’s too bad that you two guys are at this impasse, in both language and your differences of opinion concerning a physical relationship between the two of you.”

“You’re telling me! At first, I was against all of this that was he was offering so freely to me. But he got me to thinking. And I’ve talked myself into wanting something with him! If I could just shut him up long enough to get some action going!”

Kirk’s face got a dreamy, faraway look on it. “You know, some of the best times I’ve ever had, not a word was spoken.”

“You've obviously never propositioned a Great Debater,” an annoyed McCoy muttered.

“I never have wanted to. I pick my partners for other reasons than how they talk or what they say.”

“So do I! I like them cute and domestic. High heels and frilly aprons really turn me on. If they‘ve got brains, too, that‘s all for the better.”

“To each his own. I’m looking to have some casual sex, not donating sperm for the next race of super brainy people. I don't care if they've never been able to figure out yet how doorknobs work. Me, I see how a blouse looks on them, or how they fill out the front of their slacks. Filled out jeans in front really get my motor racing.”

“That’s right. You’re a bottom, aren’t you?”

“How could you have forgotten something important like that so quickly?! Of course, I’m a bottom!”

“That’s one of those stray pieces of information that you pick up at college, like the Greek alphabet or how to get into the girls’ dorm after hours.”

“Well, you kinda had inside information on my preferences, if you‘ll recall. Anyway, you and I weren’t going at it to satisfy our urges to debate each other. We had another activity in mind and other urges to satisfy, which I recall caused mutual delight between us. Spock and you should maybe just shoot for something like that.”

“He and I haven’t gotten to that place yet. I doubt if we ever will. Not at the rate we‘re going. I can‘t make him understand me. I don‘t have the words in my vocabulary.”

“Bones, you don’t need words. It’s true that my partners and I didn’t speak. But we comprehended a lot. The language of love did our talking for us.”

“That’s so poetic, it makes me want to puke. You sound like a Valentine’s Day card.”

Kirk smiled. “Well, the great day for lovers is coming up. You need to do something about that with your sweetie. He‘s an old puddin‘ at heart.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “More poetic nonsense! My lunch might came up yet! And Spock would dismiss you as a hopeless romantic. Talk like that to him, and you’ll see him disappear. He’d stop listening to you and go tear down some computer just to rebuild it better or try to see if pi really does go on forever. He could make it his life‘s work. Because you won't be seeing him again," he muttered bitterly. Then, almost to himself, as he stared into the near distance, McCoy mumbled, almost by rote,"And you'd be left, talking to hear yourself talk, or counting numbers just for the hell of it." His frown reflected his pain. "Because that will be all that's left for you to do."

McCoy was being too melodramatic, so Kirk chose to ignore the doctor's negativity. Besides, Kirk didn't understand that last comment, but he didn't want to be distracted from making a point. “Bones, listen to me. You’re over-thinking this. Wrong. Let me rephrase that. You’re OVER TALKING this. Simplify, man. Simplify! Get back to basics! And don‘t let words distract you! Remember what you're really after. And I think that it sure as hell isn't another debate with him!”

Chapter Text

Spock entered McCoy’s quarters. “You wished to speak with me, Doctor?”

“Yes, I did, Mr. Spock. Come in and sit down. Would you like some refreshment?” he asked with a genial smile as he indicated a nearby chair.

But Spock stayed standing, as did McCoy. “This is a social visit then and not work related.”

“That is correct.” McCoy looked flirty. “It is a very social occasion. In fact, it’ll be a personal encounter. If I handle it correctly,” he ended, muttering.

There was a nearly audible sigh out of Spock. “Are you going to try to continue our interrelating session that proved so disastrous because of our language difficulties?”

Instead of answering, McCoy smiled and nodded.

“I do not understand, Doctor. Are we, or are we not?”

Spock held up his hand for silence, but continued to smile.

“Are you experiencing some sort of sudden physical malady, Doctor?” Spock asked with alarm. “Is there something I may do to assist you? Do you need to go to Sickbay? I would be happy to escort you there personally.”

McCoy shook his head back and forth.

“Then you are alright? You do not require medical assistance?”

The smile on McCoy’s closed mouth deepened, and McCoy slowly nodded his head up and down in answer.

“I do not understand,” Spock stated with growing alarm. “Why have you suddenly gone mute?”

McCoy took two steps toward Spock, and the Vulcan jerked with caution and prepared to back away from the advancing man.

Spock saw that McCoy’s hands were not raised in anger, nor did his demeanor seem threatening. But, still, one could not always tell with McCoy. His erratic behavioral patterns caused the man to change direction, both physically and emotionally, quite suddenly. It must be exhausting at times to be McCoy, Spock decided.

McCoy stopped, and the two men studied each other for a moment. Then McCoy held his hand out to Spock.

Spock studied that hand. It wasn’t raised in a fist or outstretched to slap him across the face again. Spock would be on guard for that maneuver if McCoy came at him again to slap him. It had hurt, besides humiliating him.

McCoy motioned toward himself with his hand. He looked like he was pulling invisible water toward himself. Whatever did he want? Water? Why would he want water? Why now?

Spock had no water to hand to McCoy. And something told Spock that he shouldn’t ask McCoy why he wanted water. And why at this time. Although Spock was curious, he felt that he shouldn’t ask those questions. It was probably a lucky thing that their conversation was in pantomime. Otherwise, he might anger McCoy again.

Okay, suppose that Spock had misinterpreted the hand signal. Suppose McCoy did not want water. Did he want something else then?

McCoy’s head was bobbing in a most interesting fashion that was urging Spock onward. Spock thought of those little doggies in the back of car windows that bob up and down. Surely, that was not the effect that McCoy was trying to establish.

Maybe, Spock wondered, could it be? Could McCoy be motioning to Spock himself? Spock was what McCoy was wanting? Dare Spock hope?

Spock held out his hand to McCoy, and McCoy nodded. Ah, yes, that was what the doctor wanted. Spock’s hand. And anybody with any logic at all knew that Spock’s hand was attached to the rest of him. Maybe the doctor had changed his mind about Spock’s offer!

Or maybe, Spock considered, he was simply reading too much into the gesture. He should not assume something that probably was still not true. He decided to be cautious. Maybe McCoy merely wanted to cement their friendship.

Spock extended his hand as if to shake McCoy’s. Why now, after all of these years together, did McCoy want to shake hands as if they were meeting for the first time? Oh, well, Spock could humor the doctor if that was what the doctor was needing from him. It was disappointing, but it was a start, Spock supposed. Friendship with the doctor would he nice, he accepted with a sigh.

Their hands touched, but McCoy did not begin the customary shaking up and down of the two hands. Instead, he simply held Spock’s hand. Whatever for, Spock wondered. If McCoy didn’t want a physical relationship with him, why was McCoy wanting to hold his hand?

And then a strange thing happened. As the two men stood holding hands and quietly looking into each others’ faces, Spock felt a calmness spreading through him. He could even feel a tenseness leaving the doctor’s hand and assumed that the doctor was also experiencing the calming feeling. It seemed to radiate through him, and Spock felt it traveling through his body and thus relaxing him.

Spock gave McCoy a questioning look, but McCoy only nodded in reply. Then Spock felt McCoy’s fingers gently massaging parts of his hand. Spock recognized it as McCoy’s attempt at Vulcan kissing. McCoy had the right idea about Spock‘s sensitive hands, but not the technique. Spock proceeded to teach McCoy by illustration how best to press Spock’s hand to give Spock the greatest amount of pleasure.

McCoy could tell by the look of utter rapture on Spock’s face that he was performing that stimulation correctly. And McCoy found that since he was concentrating on pleasing Spock, he was receiving some gratification, himself, from the hand stroking.

McCoy broke the hold that he had on Spock’s hand and reached up. Spock started to form words, but McCoy laid one of his fingers over Spock’s lips to silence him and shook his head. Then he slid his opened hand along Spock’s face to cup the Vulcan’s greenish cheek in his palm and stroke it with his thumb. This was the spot that McCoy had struck Spock with his slap, but this soft caress shattered Spock’s emotions more than the slap ever could have. The touch set Spock’s cheek to tingling, and Spock wanted to feel McCoy’s touch on other parts of his body. Oh, Dr. McCoy, what your touch is doing to our dear Spock!

Spock gazed in wonder at McCoy as the hand slid behind Spock’s head and gently tugged it forward. At the same time, McCoy leaned into Spock. McCoy softly brushed his lips across the Vulcan’s and glanced up into the dark eyes watching him in utter fascination. Thus encouraged, McCoy pressed his mouth more firmly against Spock’s.

That’s when Spock seemed to wake up. He had learned from Nyota to appreciate the contact between two people on their sensitive lips. He had learned that was the time to become a little uninhibited, and so Spock did.

McCoy felt Spock’s hands sweep up his arms and encircle his back in a demanding hug. Oh, yeah! McCoy snaked his own arms around the Vulcan and deepened the kiss. Meet me halfway, darlin’!

And Spock did. More than halfway, in fact. Nyota Uhura had been a good teacher.

They both came out of that kiss a little breathless. Spock opened his mouth, perhaps to ask something about what they were doing. His question would probably reflect the puzzled expression on his face, but McCoy shook his head again with a wry smile. Then he took Spock’s hand and tugged him forward. Spock did not understand, but McCoy motioned toward his bedroom with his head and smiled.

Spock’s eyes lit up. No words were needed from then on.

Inside the bedroom, McCoy had already set the lights on very dim so he did not have to break the mood by speaking. He simply closed the door, turned to the Vulcan, and engaged him in another kiss. But this one was more soul searching and quickly became more demanding.

McCoy realized that his hands were all over Spock’s back, stroking and squeezing, and that Spock’s hands were busy on his own back. The only problem was that their damn clothes were getting in the way. McCoy wanted to feel Spock’s skin beneath his hands, not the fabric of Spock’s shirt and undershirt. McCoy splayed his fingers low on Spock’s back, then clenched his hands into fists and thereby grabbed great wads of Spock’s clothing in his hands. He raked the mess upward and felt his clothing being raked up his own back. Spock must’ve thought that McCoy had a good idea.

It all got to be a fumbling mess with tousled hair and ripping seams, but finally their annoying clothing was flung in a puddle on the floor. They wasted no time in looking at the prize bodies that they were offering to each other. Not that they weren't appreciative, they had other things on their minds to do besides looking. They simply slid into each others arms and mutually sighed as all of that bare skin came in contact. Now McCoy ran his hands over acres of Spock’s back while Spock did the same to him.

But perhaps what was best in this carnal exploration came as a happy, but electrifying accident. While they were busy enjoying their bodies being pressed together, they brushed their chests across each others erect nipples. A surprised gasp jerked through both of them, and they both felt the abrasive stimulation in their awakening nether regions just north of their knees. In fact, their nether regions jerked with their own acknowledgement, Then the two men realized that their nether regions hadn’t been napping or lying around idly wondering what they could do to get in on all of this exciting action on the bodily areas above them. In fact, their nether regions might be said to be way ahead of the other sections of their bodies. By the pressure in them, they were getting ready for further action.

It was those erect, but ineffective and perhaps sleeping nipples which were apparently slackers until they were asked, rather harshly, to be sure, to join the party. They happily accepted. Nipples might be slow, but they are never stupid. At least the ones on these guys weren’t.

McCoy’s hands strayed below Spock’s waistband onto his buttocks, but there were those damn clothes, again! McCoy felt Spock’s hands on his own buttocks and figured that Spock had been met with similar frustration. Time for it all to go!

McCoy took Spock’s hand and with a smile led him toward the bed. Any supposed embarrassment of disrobing was forgotten in their desire to be able to touch all of the others body. They both simply stared into each others eyes while they hooked their fingers in their own lower garments. With one fluid motion they rid themselves of the garments and stepped out of them before simultaneously lying down on the bed. They lay on their sides and continued to stare into each others eyes.

They shyly reached out and touched each others chest. Feeling all of that naked, warm flesh was a heady experience. No wonder people had been created naked. God wisely knew that was how his children would feel most natural.

They paused and looked into each others eyes again for a few moments. Then they nodded in agreement.

As one, they reached down into the others nether regions. A mutual gasp and sigh went up as they mutually touched and were touched by the other. Then they allowed their hands to learn the landscape of the others body. Smiles slowly crept across their faces as they joyfully discovered all that they hoped had been waiting for them. Their expectations had been miserably inadequate, they discovered.

Then McCoy had another thought. If they were making such headway without speech, how much more could they learn about the others body by touch without sight? He’d heard that method had been used in the Twentieth Century for couples to become more aware of each other. The method had been very successful. Why not for these two?

McCoy held up his hand to indicate a pause, and Spock looked at him with interest. McCoy took two of his fingers and drew down his own eyelids. Then he reached out blindly until his hand collided with Spock’s chest. His fingers began a leisurely amble around Spock’s chest, pausing once to tweak one of Spock’s nipples when he came across it. He let his face reflect the awe and pleasure he was experiencing with his tactile journey.

McCoy opened his eyes and motioned with his hand that he offered Spock to copy what he had done. Spock complied and began blindly to fumble a hand around McCoy’s chest. McCoy closed his eyes and eagerly reached for Spock again.

It was a delicious exploration. McCoy became aware of skin texture and muscle tone, things that he knew about, of course, clinically. But he had never minutely explored either skin or muscle through just touch as someone would in an intimate relationship.

As their hands fumbled around, gaining knowledge, they were also relaxing. More than that, the two men were being stimulated by all of that bare skin.

At long last (mere seconds, maybe, but it seemed longer) their mouths found each other again. Now this was a proper kiss! Involving tongue and mouth exploration, no less. No gentle brushing of lips across lips this time. No, sirree! This kiss made itself felt in the nether regions, that exotic region on the human (and Vulcan) body just south of the belt buckle. Not that either nether region was really needing any more outside stimulation. By its own volition, it was ready for more robust action in its own neighborhood.

McCoy’s eyes popped open at that amazing fact just in time to see Spock’s eyes opening, also. Their eyes softened as gentle grins slowly spread across their faces. Despite what their hands had just been doing so intimately to the other guy, the two men were almost shy to be admitting their base feelings to each other in the light of day, as it were.

Then Spock rolled his hips toward McCoy so that he was lying on his stomach. He reached back, grasped his haunch, and pulled it forward. The advancing air had to be cooling and drying an area that was rarely exposed. A certain wrinkled opening of Spock’s had to be unnaturally stretched open and agape.

McCoy frowned at Spock. He knew what Spock was offering, but he needed confirmation.

Spock released his hip, reached for McCoy’s hand, and placed it on his own hip. Then he pulled his haunch open again and glared at McCoy.

Alright, McCoy thought. You asked for it. Your idea, remember, please, when you’re sore and humiliated and can‘t stand the sight of me. You’re inviting a tiger with unsheathed claws into your innermost sanctuary. It’s messy and brutal, what you‘re proposing. Remember, I warned you. Don’t blame the tiger if you hate the experience.

McCoy laid two fingertips over the puckered entrance to Spock’s body. He felt a heartbeat. A rapid heartbeat. He glanced at Spock, and Spock nodded at him solemnly.

McCoy took his fingers away, and Spock jerked in protest. McCoy held up his hand, then dove under his pillow. He drew out something and showed it to Spock. It was a tube of lubricant. McCoy had shoved it under his pillow earlier, just in case he had a chance to use it later on.

McCoy got on his knees and proceeded with the task before him. He really shouldn’t think of it as a task, he realized as his eyes roamed over that magnificent ass in front of him. He reached out and touched a cheek. Shivers ran over Spock’s back, and Spock rubbed his face against his outstretched hand.

Oh, darlin,’ McCoy thought. I hope I make you do more than shiver.

He did. Spock shivered and moaned and whimpered. Once he even cried out, whether in pain or ecstasy, McCoy did not know. He did not care. That was Spock’s business. McCoy's business was to keep providing Spock with this delicious torment.

When McCoy was buried inside Spock as far as he could go, he noticed that both of them were shivering and sweating, Spock worse than he was. He had no idea whether it was from heat or cold or pain or ecstasy. He did not know. He did not care, except he didn‘t want his little darlin‘ going into shock.

But he intended to do something about it. Or, at least he wanted to use the intense emotion, if that indeed was what it was. If only Spock could take what McCoy had planned next. Now, that McCoy did care about.

When they were both close to release, McCoy proceeded with the special experience that he had planned for him and Spock to share.

Without jiggling his penis any more than he had to, McCoy carefully lay down over Spock’s back. Spock protested the added weight because his whole system was already compromised by that stiff prong shoved up his ass. He had to have felt flattened on the outside, yet unnaturally swollen on the inside from McCoy‘s invading penis. He probably could barely breathe, but that was what McCoy wanted for him.

He wanted Spock to be robbed of most of his breath so that he would feel the release of his mounting orgasm more intensely. And McCoy was going to half smother Spock in order to make it happen.

No, McCoy wasn’t sadistic. No, he didn’t secretly hate the Vulcan and was at last getting his revenge. He just wanted to give Spock something special to remember about their first time. And it was going to be great, if McCoy could only pull it off. And if only he didn't kill the Vulcan while he was doing it.

McCoy was going to use the technique of erotic asphyxiation, except McCoy wouldn’t be strangling Spock, merely keeping his lungs from expanding very far. Most people used a scarf around the neck to create the effect. McCoy had heard of a scarf, or even a girdle, being tightened above the waist to reduce drastically the area in which the lungs could expand. This restriction limited the amount of oxygen allowed into the lungs. This, in turn, reduced the amount of oxygen to reach the brain and resulted in a more intense orgasm. It was the same result as tightening a scarf around the neck or breathing into a paper sack. Eventually, carbon monoxide produced a state of dark euphoria, and the body flowed along in a primitive vegetative reality. Then, finally, the body was sucked up into a vortex of passion emanating from yet another primitive part of the body, the reproductive organs.

Yeah, yeah, McCoy knew. He was a doctor. Doctors don’t practice these types of chancy techniques, especially the first time into a new sexual relationship. But most people don’t have a Vulcan that they are trying to please, and impress, either.

If the Vulcan would only go along with the illusion, then this would result in a great sexual encounter. McCoy wanted so much to do something special with Spock. Part of the plan was for Spock to feel trapped.

Then, to add to the effect, McCoy ran his hands down Spock’s arms, encircled Spock’s wrists, twined their fingers together, and tucked their locked hands firmly against Spock’s sides.

Spock was strong enough that he could have sent McCoy flying at any time, thus probably causing a painful injury to McCoy who would still have his penis completely embedded in Spock’s rectum. If there was a sudden, erratic movement apart, it was not going to be a fun experience for McCoy. As the old song said, something’s gotta give. And McCoy sure as hell didn’t want it to be his penis. He was too old to get used to squatting like a woman.

McCoy felt Spock taking infrequent shallow breaths. It was probably all that the Vulcan could manage to take in the short gasps of air and to stay conscious.

With a tremendous shiver, Spock squeezed his eyes shut and tucked his chin into his neck. Fresh sweat popped onto his forehead. The misery of the inner and outer pressures to his body was more than he could bear. He also struggled to keep his body relaxed so that the penis embedded in him wouldn’t burn so much and add to his delicious torture. But sometimes he would clinch his muscles just to feel the pain shoot through him. Maybe he was a masochist, after all. It did seem to have its pleasures.

McCoy saw Spock’s exposed neck. It looked so tempting, and Spock looked so vulnerable, so defenseless. McCoy sank his teeth into all that unprotected innocence. It was as great as McCoy thought it would be.

And for Spock, it was the culminating invasion. He shivered violently, jerked upright, and tightened all of his muscles, including the ones in his rectum.

It felt like a giant vise had grabbed McCoy’s penis from all sides and was trying to squeeze McCoy‘s member into a tighter area. McCoy couldn't have gotten away from that grasp, even if he had wanted to. For some reason, McCoy pictured a giant boa constrictor, and it was laughing at him. But the worse thing was the knowing gleam in the eyes of the snake. It had McCoy in its grasp and wasn’t releasing him until it was finished with him. Sweat popped out on McCoy’s forehead. The snake could far outlast McCoy. And he and the snake both knew it.

The pressure on McCoy’s penis was brutal, but McCoy knew that any pressure he was feeling was minuscule compared to the torture that Spock was having to endure. Spock was being squeezed from the inside out and the outside in, plus not being able to expand his lungs properly. Not only was he seeing stars flashing, but the darkness at the corners of his vision had to be closing steadily in.

McCoy knew he was on the edge. Spock’s jerk had nearly ended everything. And the snake that had previously been Spock’s rectal wall was continuing the exquisite torture on McCoy. Any moment now, McCoy was going to erupt inside Spock like some pent-up geyser. Well, Spock and the boa constrictor in his ass were right. It was time. Time for the grand finale.

While Spock was still tensed and shivering, McCoy drew his hips back and then slammed into the Vulcan hard. That sent McCoy over the edge, and he felt himself explode inside Spock.

Spock, meanwhile, was thrashing wildly around with his own orgasm trying to manifest itself. But Spock had nowhere to go with it. After all, that mattress was rather firm and didn’t have much give to it. The two men might well get lifted right off the bed by the release of Spock’s orgasm. They might even blow a hole in the mattress.

While that ridiculous thought spun around in McCoy’s brain, McCoy wanted nothing more than to lie back, relax, and laugh until he was exhausted at the absurd image of him and Spock being lifted off the bed by the explosion created by Spock's orgasm. That was absurd enough, but the idea of blowing a hole in the mattress was the image that McCoy knew was going to leave him weak from laughter.

But he had no time for that. He had to rescue the sputtering and gasping Vulcan from the intensity and need for sexual release that was gripping his body. Spock needed to have somewhere to go with the wad that was threatening to cause major damage to his nether region, and maybe McCoy's mattress.

McCoy grabbed Spock by the arms and rolled with him until the Vulcan was lying atop him and gasping for air from the asphyxiation and the orgasm that was roaring through him. McCoy ran his arms up through Spock’s armpits, locked his hands onto his own shoulders, and held the Vulcan down upon himself. All that Spock could do was lie there gasping and trembling as his terrible release shuddered through him. He had to have looked like a fountain erupting, or maybe Old Faithful being faithful again.

McCoy would have loved to have been watching to see how far that Spock’s cum flew upward. He would know later how far it had spattered when he had to clean up the messy room. It might look like a flock of nervous pigeons with the shits had gotten loose in his quarters. Hard telling what would have to be pitched.

McCoy moved one of his feet outward. Dampness. A sticky dampness. Yep, new sheets for sure, McCoy decided. That mess had to have spewed everywhere. And it was starting to stink of male animals recently rutting in here. The place would need to be hosed out.

Or repainted.

Or fumigated.

Or sandblasted.

And McCoy was thrilled. He could’ve crowed. He didn’t care how messy the place got, or would get in the future. He and Spock had done the Big Nasty, and McCoy couldn’t have been happier!

But, McCoy had to remind himself that he and Spock were still doing the Big Nasty. At least, the afterglow part of it still lay ahead for them. And McCoy intended that neither he nor Spock would miss out on any segment of lovemaking. They’d nearly hadn’t gotten down to doing anything, and it had been their own damn faults!

McCoy was going to make damn sure they didn’t mess up again. But he couldn’t guarantee anything, though. He and Spock didn’t exactly have a good track record when it came to relationship issues. McCoy hoped that all of the kinkiness hadn’t given Spock any reservations about future encounters between them.

But he couldn’t be thinking of those matters now. First things first. Right now, he had a nearly comatose Vulcan collapsed over him. He was certain that Spock’s memory of their lovemaking wasn’t all that wonderful. Gentle sex hadn’t transpired between them, but damn it, the Vulcan hadn’t backed away. He must’ve been as willing and as eager as McCoy had been for whatever happened. And 'whatever' had sure as hell happened!

McCoy was now also experiencing what Spock had endured when McCoy was plastered on top of him, weighing him down. And McCoy didn‘t have an erect penis shoved up his backside creating a pressure of its own. No wonder Spock now lay exhausted on top of McCoy. Spock was like a rag doll, a rag doll that was all dead weight.

The Vulcan deserved to know that he had performed well, and that McCoy was pleased with him. McCoy ran his hands soothingly across Spock’s chest. He didn’t get anywhere near Spock’s nether region. That had to be a mess, just as McCoy’s bed had to be. Oh, well, a new pair of sheets would be worth the price of what these two had just experienced together.

When he felt his penis sliding out of Spock, he adjusted the two of them to lie side by side. McCoy had wanted to make an impression on Spock. That, he felt he had gotten done. Or hoped he had. As he looked at the exhausted, yet sated and thoroughly satisfied Vulcan, he felt he had succeeded.

At first McCoy had been skeptical when the idea for erotic asphyxiation had come to his attention. That’s what late night surfing the net for obscure sexual techniques and watching poorly filmed, poorly produced, and poorly acted skin flicks would do for you. But when he’d actually been choking Spock (well, really, not allowing him to breathe), he’d felt the heady control of life and death that he had over another person. What made it greater yet, was that this was a person he loved.

Of course, as a doctor, he felt that same power of life and death over his patients on a daily basis. Of course, that control dealt with abstracts, while, this, this was so damn personal. The medical situation pitted him against God and Mother Nature, while this confrontation pitted him against himself and his own value system. How much did he actually love the Vulcan, and how much did he hate him?

For both love and hate exist, side by side, in any intimate relationship. Just like worship and jealousy do.

McCoy could understand abuse. He didn’t want to practice it, but he certainly understood it. It dealt with placing a loved one on a pedestal and expecting that person to be content with simply sitting there, to be ready at a moment’s notice to be admired, much as a work of Modern Art is adulated, or a hot house flower is frozen in place and waiting to be petted. The trouble with that is that the object of that refined affection is still a flawed, breathing person with its own agenda and wants and desires. That person still has free will, with the right to make his own choices. That’s what an abuser ignores and tries to make his victim forget. That’s what pisses off an abuser. The fact that he isn’t the God Incarnate, at least to one other person than himself.

No, McCoy wanted to mean the world to the Vulcan, but he didn’t want to became the whole world to Spock. As much as he would like that, he knew he couldn’t. And shouldn’t. They had to stay their own persons so that their relationship would be ever fresh and true.

The Vulcan was going to need to be cleaned up, too. Hell, probably himself, also, McCoy decided. He brightened. Maybe they could shower together!

But right now, all he wanted was to pull a dirty, smelly sheet up around them, cradle Spock in his arms so he would feel safe and loved, and take a well deserved nap.

So that’s what he did. He gently gathered his sweet darlin’ into his protecting arms, shut the rest of the whole universe away from them, and surrendered himself into an all consuming sleep. His work was done. For now.

Later, after they’d silently taken the world’s longest shower and silently remade the bed, they lay on their sides on that same bed and faced each other again.

They slowly ran their hands over each others chests and shoulders. But they did so at this time not out of passion, but out of wonder. How could they be finding so much fulfillment and joy in such a simple act of mutual stimulation and pleasure as touching each other?

They still hadn’t spoken, but that was alright. Words would have just ruined whatever they were feeling. Besides, they’d discovered a new language. Jim Kirk had finally hit on the right advice for them. And was it a doozy!

Spock took one of McCoy’s hands and raised it to his lips. Then he painstakingly kissed each knuckle, weaving in and out of the fingers and taking care not to miss any surface with his lips, whether it was on the back of the hand or on the inside of the palm. McCoy knew that Spock would prefer using his hands on McCoy’s hand, but was combining human kissing and Vulcan kissing for the benefit of both.

McCoy could do that, also. He took Spock’s other hand and popped the Vulcan’s long fingers into his mouth, one by one, and suckled them. Spock’s eyes gleamed. Yep, McCoy had gotten that right.

Then Spock placed his hand on McCoy’s face to make sure that the good doctor was looking at him. Spock’s face and especially those dark, dark eyes got a wistful, pleading look. McCoy understood what Spock wanted to know as clearly as if Spock had spoken.

Am I enough?

Was Spock enough for McCoy? At this place and time, yes. McCoy did not know if he could always swear that Spock’s simple, sustaining love would be enough to keep McCoy from being plagued by his unnamed demons somewhere in the future. But for now, yes.

McCoy also knew that if Spock’s earnest love wasn’t enough for him to face his demons, it would be because of a failure in McCoy and not in Spock.

McCoy let his eyes grow mellow as he looked into that earnest, trusting face in front of him. Spock asked nothing for himself, only for McCoy. McCoy hoped he could stay appreciative and deserving of such devotion.

McCoy cupped Spock’s greenish cheek with his own hand and let a warm smile slowly spread across his face. No words were needed as he made his own pledge that spoke to Spock‘s wildly beating heart. It was a pledge that came from McCoy’s own wildly beating heart.

Yes, darlin,’ you are.

Spock smiled as he understood what McCoy was telling him.

Yes, it would be enough, what they had. For now. That’s all either of them expected.

Or wanted.