Title: For the Sake of Nothing, Part 10
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Complications can make a mess of everything.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Leonard lifted up another gift basket (this time with a balloon heart and a sappy message attached) and wiped down the tabletop. When he glanced up, Jim had his third (or fifth or tenth, depending on how many Kirk had eaten while Leonard wasn’t paying attention) chocolate truffle halfway to his mouth. Plunking the basket back in its spot, he said with mild ire, “I’m not cleaning up your vomit if you make yourself sick, Jim.”

Jim plopped the truffle in his mouth and made an exaggerated face of how good it tasted. Once the treat had been swallowed, Kirk proceeded to lick his fingers and say, “You’re just jealous.”

Leonard turned away with a ceiling-ward roll of his eyes. That was precisely it: he was jealous of all the googly eyes the customers have been making at Jim, jealous of their simpering condolences of Jim’s injuries and their fawning over Jim’s bravery. And he was especially jealous of those stupid “get well” baskets the local florists kept showing up with.

Truth be told, Leonard simply didn’t get it. Why were so many people encouraging Jim’s idiocy? The stupid fool shouldn’t have gotten in a brawl in the first place!

He muttered as much as he returned to the register and stabbed a button to open the cash drawer. Unfortunately, he and the register had a long-standing feud and it began to squeal at his rough treatment. There wasn’t anything he could do to shut it up. Leonard was considering pushing it over the counter’s edge (while steadily ignoring Jim’s unhelpful ‘hit the yellow key, Bones!’—there were dozens of worn yellow keys) when a hand sneaked over his shoulder and silenced the machine.

Leonard stared at the register’s keypad. “How come that worked for you? Damn it, I just hit that button!”

“Leonard,” Spock replied, “please do not destroy the cash register before closing time.”

Maybe it was Spock’s mild, low tone or the way he spoke right next to Leonard’s ear, but whatever the reason, Leonard reacted with a shiver. By clearing his throat, he hoped to remind Spock that their proximity was anything but professional—at least it would seem that way to the people staring at them.

Spock shifted but did not move back. Leonard, wondering why his body was having a mild panic attack, blurted out, “Now that you’re out here, you might as well stay. I’m going on break.” He slid to the side. Spock, thank God, did not follow him.

He heard from over his shoulder as he strode to the kitchen door, “Jim, I highly doubt it is necessary to consume all of your commiserative offerings within the hour.”

“I’m in pain, Spock!” Jim almost whined. “I need comfort food!”

A pause. Then Spock replied, “Very well.”

Leonard smirked to himself as he walked into the kitchen and veered towards the employee bathroom. Jim really did have Spock wrapped around his little finger. The poor bastard.

He supposed he had to give Spock some credit. The man had put his foot down when Jim insisted he could work a regular shift despite three fractured ribs. Instead, with Leonard and Spock against him, Jim ended up at his own private table by the window, where they told him he had to stay if he wasn’t going to go home and sleep through the first few days of his injury.

Of course, neither Spock nor Leonard had counted on all of the people flocking into the cafe to see if Jim was still alive and kicking. It seemed to have surprised Kirk too, though Leonard hadn’t had but a moment to glimpse the reaction on Jim’s face. Leave it to Jim to turn a public scene into a publicity stunt.

Leonard, if he thought about it, knew he had reason to thank Kirk as well. This entire “Jim is injured and Spock needs help because he can’t babysit a Kirk and run a business at the same time” situation allowed Leonard to slip back into his old role without much fuss or explanation. Thus far, Spock seemed content not to address the matter of Leonard’s irresponsibility. Leonard figured he should bring it up so he could apologize, yet he also hesitated to break the relative peace between them.

It was amazing, when he considered their different personalities, that they were getting along so well. They hadn’t argued since the trip to the hospital. In fact, they almost… coexisted.

That was Jim’s doing, however inadvertent. It was easier to work together to look after Jim (well, Spock looked after Jim; Leonard felt it was his job to remind Spock that Jim did not require a 24/7 mother-hen). Spock no longer seemed preoccupied with the attention that Jim paid to Leonard, and thus Leonard was not preoccupied with apprehension about how Jim was treating him in comparison to Spock. They had settled into a kind of balance. A truce, McCoy liked to think of it. When Jim was recovered, conceivably things would fall apart again. He suspected that was inevitable, if only because Jim was bound to circle back around to a subject Leonard hated most—himself.

Don’t borrow trouble, he told himself firmly. Pausing at the bathroom door, Leonard looked over his shoulder and considered the empty kitchen and the murmur of chatting customers through the wall. A thought came unbidden. Strange, that I missed this.

He frowned. Then, with a shake of his head, Leonard placed that revelation aside and gave his attention to other needs.

Jim was less lively after Leonard left. Concerned, Spock approached Kirk’s table and asked him, “Are you well?”

Jim lifted his head and smiled, though his expression was wan. “Just my meds, I think.” He gingerly touched his stomach. “Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the cookies.”

Spock was of the opinion Jim shouldn’t have eaten the cookies, the bonbons, the homemade pound cake, or that tin of English biscuits. “Are you nauseous?”

Jim made a pained face and slowly eased out of his chair. “I wasn’t until you mentioned the word, Spock. Thanks.”

Alarmed now, Spock reached out to steady the man. “Please allow me to take you home, Jim,” he insisted for the umpteenth time. “You cannot rest here.”

“Won’t be able to rest at home either,” Jim murmured and headed for the bathroom at a slow limping pace.

“I have offered you the use of my house.”

“I’m not crashing at your house.”

Jim’s tone was remarkably stubborn. Spock wished he had leverage to change Jim’s mind but he knew he did not. Silently, he lent the man his arm for balance. But Jim moved away, marginally increasing his pace, a clear sign he did not want to be helped.

Spock trailed after him as far as the kitchen door. Jim reminded him at the point, “You shouldn’t leave the money unattended.” Spock returned to stand behind the counter and remained there, ill-at-ease.

An older woman approached the communal trash bin by the door; yet rather than leaving the establishment she turned toward the counter with a congenial smile and said, “It’s hard, isn’t it? Taking care of a sick loved one when that loved one doesn’t want to admit he needs help.”

Spock thought about correcting her assumption of ‘loved one’ but found himself nodding slightly instead.

“My husband was the same way, god rest his soul. He broke his leg once, jumping off a runaway tractor.”

Spock lifted his eyebrow, interested.

“We were young, newly married. The doctor said Ben had to limit his movements to the bedroom and bathroom for three weeks.”

“He did not,” Spock surmised.

Her smile widened. “The man was a fool without me. I came back from a church function and found him out in the barn, penned like a hog in a ditch. Lord knows how he’d gotten himself out there! I’ll never forget,” she said wistfully, “how shamed my husband was when, after blessing him out, I made him sit in that wheelbarrow. It was the only way I could get him back in the house.” Her misty eyes cleared of memory. “Marriage is certainly an education, let me tell you, for all parties involved.”

He refrained from mentioning he and Jim could not legally be married in the state they currently resided in.

“Want some advice?” she asked.

“Advice would be welcome.”

“If you let that young man be a fool once and a while, it’ll keep him from forgetting why he’s lucky to have you.”

“What if he acts so foolishly, I am unable to help him?”

“Well what if he had a stroke tomorrow, like my Ben? There are some things, when they’re meant to happen, no amount of diligence can prevent. But don’t worry,” she added kindly, “if that young man loves you, he won’t be so foolish he can’t come home again.”

Spock understood her point but nevertheless found himself thinking that what she perceived to be true was in fact not a truth. Jim did not love him the way her husband had undoubtedly loved her. But appreciative of her good intentions, he walked with the customer to the door and held it open for her. “Thank you for your words,” he said.

She patted his arm comfortingly. “You’re still worrying, my dear, but you shouldn’t. Some men are slow to recognize a good thing but that one’ll figure it out soon enough. They both will.”

She left Spock just inside the doorway. He stayed there for some time, very still with contemplation, until a middle-aged man in a business suit opened the door and strode purposefully for the front counter.

“How may I help you?” the coffee shop owner asked, returning to his position at the register.

The man did not relay his order. Instead he opened his wallet and said, “I’m looking for Leonard McCoy.” To Spock, he handed a business card.

Spock placed it gently on the counter, his attention focused on the word Esquire.

“I’ve been told he works here,” the lawyer said.

Spock met the man’s eyes. “What is the nature of your business with my employee?”

“Personal, I’m afraid.”

“I see.”

For a long moment, they stood at a silent impasse.

“Well,” interrupted the lawyer at last, a sudden movement belying his impatience, “is he here or not?”

“Have a seat,” Spock said shortly and moved towards the kitchen after confirming that the man was settled and not likely to be a nuisance. He pushed open the swinging door, expecting to find Leonard at the small wooden table in the corner which served as their break area. Instead the sight that greeted Spock brought him to a standstill.

Leonard, upon seeing him, jerked out of Jim’s embrace. Jim leaned in toward McCoy almost lazily, dazed, with a confused “Bones?” His fingers skirted up Leonard’s neck and wound themselves back into the man’s short hair.

“Spock,” Leonard said, a discordant sound in the silence.

Jim’s relaxed posture stiffened. He didn’t turn around.

Spock said what he needed to—”You have a visitor, Mr. McCoy”—and retreated.

McCoy came right on his heels through the door, saying his name with an unusual urgency. When Spock did not react, Leonard grabbed a hold of his arm. Spock spared a glance for that hand on his sleeve before removing it. “Your visitor, Mr. McCoy,” he reiterated. “I would request that you return to work after your personal business has been concluded. There is paperwork I must finish.”

The man’s eyes were on his back. Spock chose to ignore Leonard’s softly muttered “oh hell.” He could not ignore, however, Leonard’s next remark: “Jim threw up in the bathroom. You should take him home.”

Spock concurred. There was one place he did not wish to see Jim at the moment and that was in this building. He could not look at Jim and think. He also feared he could not look at Jim and forget.

With a sour emotion tightening his throat, he watched Leonard speak with the lawyer but did not care to listen to their conversation. It could not become his concern. Spock only waited until the second the conversation concluded, as Leonard rose from the booth with great care, before he headed to the back room. There he extracted a sick-looking Jim from the bathroom and took him home.

If Jim was surprised Spock delivered him to the front steps of his house, the man said nothing of it as he eased from the car.

“I have a guest bedroom,” Spock told him.

“Spock…” Jim began, interrupted by a weak coughing fit.

“You will stay there,” he finished in a voice that offered no compromise. “There is a bathroom adjacent to the room for your use. I placed any amenities you may need on the counter.”

Jim followed him to the bedroom, pausing to lean heavily against the doorframe as Spock stepped back into the hallway. “Spock.” Kirk watched him for a second, face drawn with pain. Whatever he wanted to say, in the end he chose not to. “Will you be back after closing?”

Did Jim think he would not return to his own home?

“Yes.” A bit of that sour emotion loosened its choking hold on him. Spock said, “If you need me to return prior to that time for any reason, please call. …And if it is an emergency, you must promise that you will contact me.”

The corner of Jim’s mouth lifted faintly. “I think our definitions of ’emergency’ vary.”

Spock was already aware of that disturbing difference. “Jim, I require your promise.”

Jim closed his eyes and said, “You have it, Spock.” A heavy pause followed. “Thank you for everything.”

Spock found he could not reply. He returned to work.

Next Part

Related Posts:

None