Title: For the Sake of Nothing, Part 2
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: This is the fault of saintvic for posting this pic of a despondent Chris Pine at jim_and_bones. The drama continues.
Previous Parts: Part One

Jim waited. He kept an eye on the entrance, always immediately turning his attention to it the moment someone walked into the shop. But today, it seemed, was not going to be a ‘Bones’ day. As the afternoon wound down into a quiet evening, and the stream of customers became a trickle, Jim finally let his disappointment color his mood. Even the pretty philosophy student still purposefully loitering at a table along the back wall, sneaking glances at him as she sipped her second mocha latte, depressed him further. Her voice wouldn’t be the right cadence; her eyes weren’t the right color. She wouldn’t call him “kid” or “fool” or “nuisance” and somehow make it sound like an endearment, like a caress.

Jim shivered with that recollection. Then, berating himself for rubbing salt in the wound, he turned the next chair upside down and thunked it down onto the tabletop with temper. The violent sound of it, startling his admirer, brought Spock from the back room of the coffee shop.

Spock stopped just at the corner of the store-front counter next to a rack of expensive teas and skimmed the area with his dark eyes. When they finally came to Kirk, they were questioning. For Spock’s sake, Jim gave him a small smile, a reassurance and an apology, and returned to clearing the floor so that he could sweep. They would be closing in less than twenty minutes.

But Spock, always sensitive to how Jim might be feeling, crossed the room to help him.

“I got it,” Jim said stubbornly, taking a chair out of the owner’s hands. “You pay me to do this,” he added for good measure.

Spock merely lifted an eyebrow.

Jim, inexplicably, felt a little better. He moved aside so Spock could lift chairs as well and they wouldn’t hinder each other. Soon, with the shop ready for closing procedures—not just sweeping, but scrubbing down sticky tables, replenishing supplies at the service bar, and a myriad of other details that needed to be done nightly—the young student slid out of her booth, albeit slowly like she was giving Jim a chance to change his mind, and tossed the remainder of her latte into the trash bin at the front of the store. Jim received one last, forlorn look.

“Have a good night,” he called politely.

She walked out, shoulders slightly slumped and purse clutched to her chest.

Jim went to the kitchen area and retrieved a broom. He began to attack a pile of spilled sugar.

Silence pervaded the building for some minutes until a soft comment floated over to Jim.

“I am surprised you did not accept the offer.”

Jim glanced over his shoulder at the owner. “Why are you surprised? Am I that slutty?” he joked.

Spock stiffened, however, and turned to face his employee. “That is not humorous, Jim.”

Jim blinked. He could never predict when Spock would take him seriously. Strangely, he liked that about the man.

Now, though, it made their conversation awkward. Jim winced inwardly and reached down to take hold of a dust pan. “Well, thanks for being offended on my behalf, Spock, but you know I don’t lie to myself. If it has two legs, I’m liable to consider having sex with it.”

A heartbeat of silence. “Is this in reference to the ‘farm animals’ insult you received this morning?”

Indignant, Jim said, “I just wanted to know her first name!”

“Some individuals,” came the dry reply, “will not be susceptible to your charm, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim paused in his work to rub at his jaw. “Yeah, tell me about it. Her right cross was pretty decent.”

“We are lucky she accepted your apology and waived her right to sue this establishment for sexual harassment.”

“It’s not like I intentionally touched her breasts, Spock! I tripped.”

Spock just looked at him. “Please be more careful in the future.”

Jim sighed and nodded. While he was trying to reach a cockroach that had expired behind a storage cabinet, he thought about what Spock had said—about individuals being immune to his charm. Was Bones one of those people? Was Jim simply doomed to pine after the man?

He had realized within the first few minutes of meeting Bones (whose real name was Leonard but Jim liked Bones better) that his usual approach wouldn’t work. So Jim tried to be subtler, wooing the man with tasty coffee (why did Spock seem averse to that, anyway?) and tailoring his jokes to fit in with Leonard’s sarcasm. But at the end of every meeting, Bones just turned his face away and left as another customer. Jim was doing something wrong but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

Unless Bones simply wasn’t interested in him.

Spock held open a large trash bag while Jim emptied his full dust pan into it. The taller man slowly lowered the bag and asked, rather quietly, “Can I help?”

Jim opened his mouth to say I’m fine but didn’t. He stood next to Spock and met his gaze. Spock always seemed to understand. That was why they were friends, not just boss and employee. Jim considered himself lucky in that respect. He had worked for some awful people in the past.

“Spock…” Jim sighed again and hesitated over how to phrase his next question. “Do you think… if, hypothetically speaking, we were strangers—” And damn it, he didn’t want to be strangers with Bones! “—that you’d be willing to go on a date with me?” At the way Spock stared at him, Jim quickly amended, “I mean, don’t I seem like a decent guy? I’m not, I’m not…”

What is he not? Or better yet, what is he? To Bones?

His shoulders slumped when the revelation came like a smack in the face. “I really am annoying him. Aw, shit.” Jim turned away, having answered his own question, and dejectedly dragged the broom after him to the opposite side of the room. “Never mind.”

The hand roughly catching his arm was unexpected.

“Is this about Leonard McCoy?” Spock asked in such a way that was almost a demand for the usually calm man.

“Leonard… McCoy?”

“That is the name on his credit card receipt, Leonard McCoy. Your Bones,” clarified Spock, his face suddenly twitching, as if the nickname itself was to be despised.

“McCoy? That’s his last name?” Jim frowned. “But he only paid by credit card once, the first time, months ago. You kept that?”

“I must keep every receipt for my records.”

Yet Spock didn’t yield his original question, just looked into Jim like he knew everything Jim had never told a soul.

Under that fierce stare, Jim caved. “Yeah, Spock… Yes. It’s about McCoy.” He tugged against the hand on his arm, a reminder that Spock was still gripping him tightly. Spock let go. “I—you know I like him?”

“Yes.”

“Well he doesn’t like me back. That’s just the way of it.” Jim gave his friend a cocky half-smile. “What can I say? You win some, you lose some. It’s not a big deal, Spock.”

Spock, oddly enough, glanced away. After a moment, he said, “It… matters if you have feelings for this person, Jim. I cannot fathom why he would not see that—and why he would not want you in return.”

Jim wrapped his hands around the top of the broom handle and leaned against it. “Thank you, Spock.” He took a second to bask in the warm feeling created by the knowledge of Spock’s support. “I’ll get over it,” he said seriously. “I am happy otherwise. I have this great job, and I have you.”

Spock nodded slightly, still looking away. Then when he finally met Jim’s eyes, Jim knew the time for their heart-to-heart was over.

“I must reconcile today’s earnings,” Spock said.

Jim gave him a thumbs-up. “You do that, since we both know I can’t count past ten!”

Spock’s flat look said that is another joke I am not certain I find funny.

So Jim laughed on behalf of both of them.

~~~

The doorbell rang at ass o’clock in the morning. Leonard wasn’t asleep, due to his insomnia, but that didn’t mean he had to tell the person on the other side of the door about his miserable sleeping habits.

“Fuck, you had better not be a robber!” he snarled loudly as he drew back the chain lock on his apartment door.

When Leonard opened the door, the man standing in the hallway, hands hidden in the pockets of a long, dark wool coat, replied, “It is unlikely a burglar would ring the doorbell, Mr. McCoy.”

Leonard could only gape. “What the—this isn’t fucking real!”

“If it is not, then you and I are sharing a very similar dream.” The owner of the coffee shop paused. “May I come in?”

“Spock,” Leonard said, “are you insane? What the hell are you doing here?” A thought struck him. “Did you follow me home? Oh, fuck. Of course you’re a damned stalker. I should’ve known by your social ineptitude. Get lost!” he snapped and tried to shut the door.

Despite his tall, thin frame, Spock was strong. He batted the door back open and came right in. “I am not here to frighten you, Leonard. …Hm, perhaps I should amend that: I am not here to frighten you unless I have to.”

Leonard decided it was just Fate’s way of saying screw you that he couldn’t afford phone service and therefore had no means to call the police. “What do you want?” he asked warily. Never let the psycho know you’re shitting bricks from fear. Maybe his introductory college class about safe campus life had paid off after all.

“I want,” Spock said too softly, his dark eyes fixed steadily on McCoy, “to discuss Jim.”

Next Part

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