by J. Rosemary MossGenre: Fan Fiction (Star Trek; Slash; Spock-McCoy)
Rating: PG
Discloser: Sadly, I don't own Star Trek.
Feedback: Any and all welcome!
Summary: McCoy seeks refuge from an angry ex in Spock's cabin...
~
Spock had just sat down to tune his lute when someone rang—insistently—outside his door. "Spock!" a voice called from without. "Are you in there?"
It was the doctor. Spock raised an eyebrow, wondering what emergency had brought the excitable human to his cabin.
"Come," the Vulcan said, setting his instrument aside.
The doors opened and McCoy, clearly agitated, strode inside. "Spock, mind if I bunk with you for the night?"
Spock narrowed his eyes at the doctor. He had not heard tell of any technical difficulties in or near McCoy's cabin. "Is there some problem with your own quarters, Doctor?"
"You bet," he answered, pulling up a chair without bothering to wait for an invitation. "They're under siege."
Spock thought he must have misheard. "Under siege?"
McCoy nodded. "Tonia Barrows. The girl's furious with me—and determined to hunt me down. It's not safe for a man in there. I need a refuge."
"I see." No doubt this had something to do with the doctor's tempestuous relationship with Lt. Barrows. The couple had spent the last two years 'breaking up' and 'getting back together.' Sometimes months passed during their 'break-up' periods. Other times only a few weeks separated them from each other. "Am I to understand, Doctor, that you have 'broken up' with Lt. Barrows again?"
He nodded and then shook his head. "Well, I've been trying to break things off completely for months," he explained, running his fingers through his hair in a worried fashion. "But it's been damn awkward."
"Did you explain to the lieutenant that you no longer found your relationship to be mutually beneficial?"
McCoy gave a short laugh at that. "That's half the problem! I never wanted a relationship to begin with—and she claimed that she didn't either. We were supposed to be friends with benefits. But the next thing I knew, she was complaining that I wasn't putting enough of an effort into our relationship." He paused long enough to sink his head into his hands. "That should have served as a warning bell."
Spock stared at him. "Friends with benefits?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow again.
McCoy nodded without looking up. "Yeah. You know—friends that sleep together."
"I see," the Vulcan said slowly. Human mating habits were even more complicated than he had realized.
The doctor finally looked up again. "So what do you say, Spock? Can I crash here tonight?"
Both brows went up in alarm at that. "Crash?"
McCoy laughed. "Don't worry—I'm not planning on wrecking your cabin. Can I stay here tonight, I mean?"
Spock considered him. "Doctor, I have no objection to sharing my quarters with you," he said at length. "You are always welcome here. However, would it not be best to confront Lt. Barrows and make your feelings on this matter plain?"
"No," McCoy answered at once. "She's in no mood to be reasonable right now. She's angry as hell, as a matter of fact."
"Because you 'broke up' with her?"
He shook his head. "No. Well, yes. I mean, technically she broke up with me—but that took a lot of doing on my part."
Spock blinked. "You induced her to break up with you?"
"Yeah—it took forever, but it finally worked. But now she thinks we should talk about what went wrong." He paused again, this time to roll his eyes. "And she's hopping mad that I don't want to discuss it."
"If she is harassing you, Doctor, you can report—"
"I'm not going to report her, Spock!" McCoy said, cutting him off as he rolled his eyes again. "I can't do that to her. Besides, Jim would just tell me to get my act together and deal with it. And he'd be right."
"So you wish to 'deal with it' by hiding in my cabin?"
McCoy grinned. "That's about the size of it, yes."
“Why my cabin?”
“Because no one would dream that I’d be here—not all night, anyway. She’ll think of Jim right away—I don’t know if she’d have the nerve to knock on his door, but she just might. And she’ll think of Scotty. She’d have no qualms about pursuing me there. But she won’t think of you.”
He paused to stretch out his arms and remove his blue uniform shirt, leaving the standard black t-shirt he wore beneath it.
“Why would she not think of me?” Spock inquired.
“Huh?” McCoy said, tossing his uniform shirt aside. “Oh, because—well, you know.”
“No, Doctor, I do not.”
McCoy gave him a crooked grin. “Frankly, Spock, she wouldn’t think that you’d put up with me all night—I mean, she’s probably picturing me getting drunk to disguise what she sees as my emotional inadequacies.”
“Do you intend to get drunk?”
He shook his head. “No. Well, I won’t say no to a glass or two of Saurian brandy, mind. But I’ll behave myself apart from that.”
Spock nodded. He kept one bottle in his cabin—for use by the doctor or Jim.
“By the way,” McCoy continued, “do you think we could turn down the heat just a smidge? When I was coming up in Georgia, I thought it was the hottest place on earth. That little side trip we took on Vulcan taught me otherwise.”
Spock felt a glow of warmth at the doctor’s casual use of the term ‘coming up’ in place of ‘growing up.’ Illogically, he found McCoy’s southernisms charming. But he had always been careful to disguise that fact from the doctor.
“Computer,” he said, “lower the temperature to 30 degrees Celsius.”
The doctor frowned. “What does that work out to?”
“86 degrees Fahrenheit,” Spock answered, wondering why American humans insisted on using obsolete units of measure.
“Well, that’s a little more like it,” McCoy said grudgingly. “I can survive that. Thanks, Spock.”
He paused and sank further into his chair. Then his blue eyes seemed to take on a far-off look. “What the hell am I doing, Spock? I let myself get tangled up with Tonia, who, like Jocelyn, just doesn’t seem to understand how many hours a doctor has to work. And the last time we were broken up, what did I do? Marry the first woman I came across. Although at least with Natira I had an excuse: I thought I was dying.”
“Doctor,” Spock said, cocking his head at the human, “what, precisely, are you searching for in a bond mate?”
McCoy smiled a little at that. “A marriage partner, you mean? Oh, I don’t know. Someone who’ll understand why I devote so much time to my work—and who won’t mind. Someone who’s a good friend. Someone I can argue with and tease without constant drama.”
Spock regarded him steadily. “I see,” he said slowly.
“But I’m beginning to think that person doesn’t exist,” the doctor said with a sigh. “Or if they do, I have no idea how to find them.” He paused and glanced around the room. “Should I put a couple of chairs together for tonight? A sort of make-shift bed?”
“If you wish,” Spock answered as he stood up and retrieved his bottle of Saurian brandy. “However, you are welcome to share my bunk.”
“I’ll take you up on that, if you won’t find it weird,” McCoy said. “That’ll be more comfortable than the chairs and better than any cot we drag in.”
“I shall not find it ‘weird,’ doctor. I trust that you will not?”
He laughed at that as he shook his head. “No—I think I can trust you with my virtue, Spock.”
“Indeed,” Spock agreed, attempting to keep a somewhat rueful tone out of his response. He poured a glass of brandy for the doctor and, after a moment’s consideration, one for himself.
In the end, they drank the full contents of the bottle of brandy together. That was certainly more alcohol than Spock was accustomed to drinking, but he had no difficulty metabolizing it. And McCoy’s long experience with alcoholic beverages of all stripes seemed to serve him well.
The doctor did, however, grow ever more loquacious as the evening wore on. Soon he was regaling Spock with stories about ‘coming up.’ Spock raised his eyebrows at one in particular. When McCoy was thirteen, he and a cousin of the same age had stolen his father’s vehicle—McCoy insisted it was a case of borrowing without permission, not stealing—and promptly wrecked it due to their inexperience. McCoy seemed to derive no end of amusement from describing both their stupidity and their frightening crash into a tree.
“I fail to see the humor in that story, Doctor,” Spock chided. “You and your cousin might have been killed.”
“Oh, it’s only funny because we survived,” McCoy assured him. “Although, at the time, I almost would rather have died than face my father…”
He smiled fondly at the memory, letting his voice trail off. Then he shook himself and favored Spock with a wry grin. “Well, it’s late. I’m going to get me to bed. Thanks again for letting me crash here.”
Spock watched as he slipped out of his boots and then climbed into the bunk. Then, after giving the doctor enough time to make himself comfortable, he removed his own uniform shirt and his boots. But he left on his black trousers and t-shirt, just as McCoy had.
He slipped into the bunk, fighting the sudden urge to wrap his arms around the good doctor. McCoy had made it abundantly plain that he did not view the Vulcan as a potential mate.
But Spock soon found himself with an armful of McCoy regardless. In his sleep the doctor had curled up next to him, making use of the Vulcan’s body heat. Spock swallowed at that and summoned all the Vulcan disciplines at his command in order to squelch his arousal.
But somehow he could not bring himself to push the doctor away.
It was the doctor. Spock raised an eyebrow, wondering what emergency had brought the excitable human to his cabin.
"Come," the Vulcan said, setting his instrument aside.
The doors opened and McCoy, clearly agitated, strode inside. "Spock, mind if I bunk with you for the night?"
Spock narrowed his eyes at the doctor. He had not heard tell of any technical difficulties in or near McCoy's cabin. "Is there some problem with your own quarters, Doctor?"
"You bet," he answered, pulling up a chair without bothering to wait for an invitation. "They're under siege."
Spock thought he must have misheard. "Under siege?"
McCoy nodded. "Tonia Barrows. The girl's furious with me—and determined to hunt me down. It's not safe for a man in there. I need a refuge."
"I see." No doubt this had something to do with the doctor's tempestuous relationship with Lt. Barrows. The couple had spent the last two years 'breaking up' and 'getting back together.' Sometimes months passed during their 'break-up' periods. Other times only a few weeks separated them from each other. "Am I to understand, Doctor, that you have 'broken up' with Lt. Barrows again?"
He nodded and then shook his head. "Well, I've been trying to break things off completely for months," he explained, running his fingers through his hair in a worried fashion. "But it's been damn awkward."
"Did you explain to the lieutenant that you no longer found your relationship to be mutually beneficial?"
McCoy gave a short laugh at that. "That's half the problem! I never wanted a relationship to begin with—and she claimed that she didn't either. We were supposed to be friends with benefits. But the next thing I knew, she was complaining that I wasn't putting enough of an effort into our relationship." He paused long enough to sink his head into his hands. "That should have served as a warning bell."
Spock stared at him. "Friends with benefits?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow again.
McCoy nodded without looking up. "Yeah. You know—friends that sleep together."
"I see," the Vulcan said slowly. Human mating habits were even more complicated than he had realized.
The doctor finally looked up again. "So what do you say, Spock? Can I crash here tonight?"
Both brows went up in alarm at that. "Crash?"
McCoy laughed. "Don't worry—I'm not planning on wrecking your cabin. Can I stay here tonight, I mean?"
Spock considered him. "Doctor, I have no objection to sharing my quarters with you," he said at length. "You are always welcome here. However, would it not be best to confront Lt. Barrows and make your feelings on this matter plain?"
"No," McCoy answered at once. "She's in no mood to be reasonable right now. She's angry as hell, as a matter of fact."
"Because you 'broke up' with her?"
He shook his head. "No. Well, yes. I mean, technically she broke up with me—but that took a lot of doing on my part."
Spock blinked. "You induced her to break up with you?"
"Yeah—it took forever, but it finally worked. But now she thinks we should talk about what went wrong." He paused again, this time to roll his eyes. "And she's hopping mad that I don't want to discuss it."
"If she is harassing you, Doctor, you can report—"
"I'm not going to report her, Spock!" McCoy said, cutting him off as he rolled his eyes again. "I can't do that to her. Besides, Jim would just tell me to get my act together and deal with it. And he'd be right."
"So you wish to 'deal with it' by hiding in my cabin?"
McCoy grinned. "That's about the size of it, yes."
“Why my cabin?”
“Because no one would dream that I’d be here—not all night, anyway. She’ll think of Jim right away—I don’t know if she’d have the nerve to knock on his door, but she just might. And she’ll think of Scotty. She’d have no qualms about pursuing me there. But she won’t think of you.”
He paused to stretch out his arms and remove his blue uniform shirt, leaving the standard black t-shirt he wore beneath it.
“Why would she not think of me?” Spock inquired.
“Huh?” McCoy said, tossing his uniform shirt aside. “Oh, because—well, you know.”
“No, Doctor, I do not.”
McCoy gave him a crooked grin. “Frankly, Spock, she wouldn’t think that you’d put up with me all night—I mean, she’s probably picturing me getting drunk to disguise what she sees as my emotional inadequacies.”
“Do you intend to get drunk?”
He shook his head. “No. Well, I won’t say no to a glass or two of Saurian brandy, mind. But I’ll behave myself apart from that.”
Spock nodded. He kept one bottle in his cabin—for use by the doctor or Jim.
“By the way,” McCoy continued, “do you think we could turn down the heat just a smidge? When I was coming up in Georgia, I thought it was the hottest place on earth. That little side trip we took on Vulcan taught me otherwise.”
Spock felt a glow of warmth at the doctor’s casual use of the term ‘coming up’ in place of ‘growing up.’ Illogically, he found McCoy’s southernisms charming. But he had always been careful to disguise that fact from the doctor.
“Computer,” he said, “lower the temperature to 30 degrees Celsius.”
The doctor frowned. “What does that work out to?”
“86 degrees Fahrenheit,” Spock answered, wondering why American humans insisted on using obsolete units of measure.
“Well, that’s a little more like it,” McCoy said grudgingly. “I can survive that. Thanks, Spock.”
He paused and sank further into his chair. Then his blue eyes seemed to take on a far-off look. “What the hell am I doing, Spock? I let myself get tangled up with Tonia, who, like Jocelyn, just doesn’t seem to understand how many hours a doctor has to work. And the last time we were broken up, what did I do? Marry the first woman I came across. Although at least with Natira I had an excuse: I thought I was dying.”
“Doctor,” Spock said, cocking his head at the human, “what, precisely, are you searching for in a bond mate?”
McCoy smiled a little at that. “A marriage partner, you mean? Oh, I don’t know. Someone who’ll understand why I devote so much time to my work—and who won’t mind. Someone who’s a good friend. Someone I can argue with and tease without constant drama.”
Spock regarded him steadily. “I see,” he said slowly.
“But I’m beginning to think that person doesn’t exist,” the doctor said with a sigh. “Or if they do, I have no idea how to find them.” He paused and glanced around the room. “Should I put a couple of chairs together for tonight? A sort of make-shift bed?”
“If you wish,” Spock answered as he stood up and retrieved his bottle of Saurian brandy. “However, you are welcome to share my bunk.”
“I’ll take you up on that, if you won’t find it weird,” McCoy said. “That’ll be more comfortable than the chairs and better than any cot we drag in.”
“I shall not find it ‘weird,’ doctor. I trust that you will not?”
He laughed at that as he shook his head. “No—I think I can trust you with my virtue, Spock.”
“Indeed,” Spock agreed, attempting to keep a somewhat rueful tone out of his response. He poured a glass of brandy for the doctor and, after a moment’s consideration, one for himself.
In the end, they drank the full contents of the bottle of brandy together. That was certainly more alcohol than Spock was accustomed to drinking, but he had no difficulty metabolizing it. And McCoy’s long experience with alcoholic beverages of all stripes seemed to serve him well.
The doctor did, however, grow ever more loquacious as the evening wore on. Soon he was regaling Spock with stories about ‘coming up.’ Spock raised his eyebrows at one in particular. When McCoy was thirteen, he and a cousin of the same age had stolen his father’s vehicle—McCoy insisted it was a case of borrowing without permission, not stealing—and promptly wrecked it due to their inexperience. McCoy seemed to derive no end of amusement from describing both their stupidity and their frightening crash into a tree.
“I fail to see the humor in that story, Doctor,” Spock chided. “You and your cousin might have been killed.”
“Oh, it’s only funny because we survived,” McCoy assured him. “Although, at the time, I almost would rather have died than face my father…”
He smiled fondly at the memory, letting his voice trail off. Then he shook himself and favored Spock with a wry grin. “Well, it’s late. I’m going to get me to bed. Thanks again for letting me crash here.”
Spock watched as he slipped out of his boots and then climbed into the bunk. Then, after giving the doctor enough time to make himself comfortable, he removed his own uniform shirt and his boots. But he left on his black trousers and t-shirt, just as McCoy had.
He slipped into the bunk, fighting the sudden urge to wrap his arms around the good doctor. McCoy had made it abundantly plain that he did not view the Vulcan as a potential mate.
But Spock soon found himself with an armful of McCoy regardless. In his sleep the doctor had curled up next to him, making use of the Vulcan’s body heat. Spock swallowed at that and summoned all the Vulcan disciplines at his command in order to squelch his arousal.
But somehow he could not bring himself to push the doctor away.
2 comments:
This is just so sweet. I'm so glad that this is part one and not a one shot. How long will it take for McCoy to see that he described Spock to a tee when he explained what he was looking for in a mate.
Some times you just wanta whoop him upside the head!
Peace!
-j-
Thanks so much, Julianna!
Lol--yes, Bones can be remarkably thick at times. And it was quite tempting to have Spock whoop him upside the head...but I did manage to resist =P
But I can promise that it won't take too long, as this is only a two-parter!
Thanks again,
Rose
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