Title: For the Sake of Nothing, Part 19
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: The moment of confrontation has come.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

…No key-smashing, please. XD

On Monday morning, Leonard cut his eyes at the ever-stoic Spock and gave in. He waited until Jim—who was moving between the espresso machine and an array of blenders with confidence once again—was preoccupied with a customer before discreetly signaling his employer. Spock looked at him, not blinking, not even twitching an eyebrow (which was odd enough) and so Leonard mouthed “Can we talk?” and motioned to the back room.

Spock followed him rather slowly through the swinging door.

In the silence of the kitchen, for the moment Leonard put aside what he wanted to say and surveyed Spock from head to toe. “You… look kinda terrible. Are you sick?”

“No.” Spock stared over his shoulder, a vague expression on his face.

He felt Spock’s forehead anyway. “What’s wrong?”

“I am well.”

You look like somebody just died. Was this because of him? Leonard crossed his arms in defensive habit and leaned into Spock’s line of vision until the man couldn’t ignore him. “Hey,” he said softly, “I’m sorry about before, Spock. Really sorry.”

At first it seemed his apology hadn’t penetrated whatever haze had entrapped Spock; then a slow awareness came into the man’s eyes. In the next moment, Leonard was in his arms—or rather, Spock was in his arms, folded inward like a distraught child, his face pressed against the top of Leonard’s shoulder.

Leonard didn’t think. He simply tightened the hug and put his hand against the back of the man’s neck. “…Spock?”

Spock didn’t try to talk, or couldn’t.

“It’s something awful, isn’t it?” he whispered, his heart beginning to race. “Oh god.”

What could break a strong man like Spock?

Spock managed Leonard’s name eventually. It sounded small, painfully emotional.

“It’s okay,” Leonard said quickly, “if you can’t talk about it now. Don’t worry, Spock. I’m right here. I’m here for as long as you need.” Was it one of Spock’s parents? Leonard wasn’t even certain if Spock’s father was alive, considering that Spock only spoke of him in the past tense.

Did Jim know?

…If Jim did, that begged the question why Kirk was so blithely business-as-usual, as though Spock wasn’t obviously and disturbingly unbalanced.

Leonard really didn’t want to let Spock go as the man drew away with exaggerated care. “What can I do?”

“There is nothing you can…” Spock faltered, corrected himself. “Will you watch over Jim? I—I need—”

“Of course,” Leonard said hurriedly. “Everything’ll be fine upfront. I’ll make certain of it.”

“Thank you.”

Leonard watched worriedly as Spock walked to his tiny office and shut the door, effectively telling Leonard he wanted nothing more than to be alone with his pain. Running a faintly unsteady hand through his short hair, Leonard pivoted on the ball of his foot and left the kitchen area. He tried to find an opening to pull Jim aside and ask what happened over the weekend, but the entire city seemed to sense Jim was back in charge of all things caffeinated and customers flocked into the shop to get their usual (or not so usual) cup of coffee and a healthy dose of flirting from one James T. Kirk. It was all Leonard could do to keep track of the receipts and the influx of cash and to ward off the too-friendly advances of those who jealously wanted too much of Jim’s attention.

By the time he and Jim had a lull in which to question their life choices—Leonard certainly was, especially when his feet ached this badly—Spock had been holed up in his office most of the day and Jim was the kind of tired that meant his jokes were just marginally off-kilter. Leonard tugged him to a chair and ordered, “Sit.”

Jim accepted a cup of warm apple-cinnamon cider (unfortunately the non-alcoholic kind, much to the consternation every properly Southern man), inhaled its steam deeply and closed his eyes. “Thanks, Bones.”

“Damn, I forgot to remind you to take your pill.”

“And I forgot to make you a sandwich for lunch.” Jim paused, added thoughtfully, “Actually I think I just forgot about lunch, period.”

“You and me both, kid.” Leonard glanced around and counted the number of customers in the shop. There were four, and all had been served. He sighed, dragged out a chair next to Jim’s and sat down. “Spock’s gonna kill me.”

“Mm,” Jim said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Headache?”

“Probably because I haven’t eaten.”

“You seem to get ’em a lot.”

Jim looked up and smiled disarmingly. “Do I?”

Leonard let his expression speak for itself.

Jim relaxed. “It’s a thing,” he admitted. “Headaches since childhood. What can you do?”

“That better have not been rhetorical, Jim. You go to a doctor, for one thing.”

“I love doctors,” Jim said sarcastically.

“Oh, I know the feeling. My love for doctors is rivaled only by my love for shrinks.”

Jim looked intrigued. “Do you have a therapist?”

Should have, probably. Instead, he answered, “I’ve had one on speed dial since the day I met you.”

“Ouch, Bones.”

Leonard half-expected the usual flirting to commence, now that he and Jim were actually having a conversation, but the tell-tale sign of Jim’s charmer’s personality only peeked out for a quick moment… then vanished altogether, as if Jim had caught himself just in the nick of time. So it was with some surprise that Leonard watched a silent Jim drink his cider and pretend to be interested in a napkin holder.

What was going on?

First Spock with the near-breakdown (Leonard still felt slightly panicked thinking about that) and now Jim—reserved, cautious Jim. A Jim who knew something and didn’t plan to tell Leonard, perhaps?

“What happened?” McCoy demanded of his companion.

Jim stopped picking idly at a napkin corner. “What do you mean?”

“I’m gone—for what?—two days, and everybody’s off their rocker! That, or the goddamn mayor announced an imminent apocalypse and I’m the only one who missed it!“

“Uh, Bones…”

Who the fuck cared if people were staring? He could raise his voice if he wanted to! “So you’d better tell me what the hell is going on, Jim, because—here’s a newsflash of my own—I’m not walking on eggshells. Not. Ever. Again.”

Jim had reached across the table to grasp his wrist, which might have flailed about once or twice to emphasize his ire. “Bones, what you are talking about? Are you okay?”

Of course he was okay! He was only, well, hyperventilating a little. Which was perfectly natural. Spock had particularly cried on his shoulder.

Shit. Spock and crying.

Leonard suddenly remembered that, as a man who cared about Spock, he definitely had the right to tear the heart out of the fucker had torn out Spock’s.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Spock could—and would, Leonard imagined—handle any bad news like the well-adjusted, moderately stable individual he was. But Spock couldn’t help his vulnerability when it came to the subtler heart-bruises, like emotional rejection or childish belittling. Hell, Spock half as much admitted he didn’t have experience with intimate relationships and he didn’t quite understand how they worked.

Jim was waving his hand in front of Leonard’s face.

“What?” Leonard snapped, annoyed. Then he focused on Jim, truly focused on him for the first time—and saw the missing piece to the puzzle. Spock really only wanted acceptance from one person.

“Jim,” he began, voice deadly calm, “what did you do?”

Jim started to say, “Bones, I’m not certain I follow—”

“To Spock. What did you do to Spock?”

Jim clammed up, sat back in his chair, and possibly paled.

Leonard felt anger rising in him anew. He stood so he could lean over the table. “I’ll have you know, Kirk, if you rip out his heart, I’ll rip out yours.”

When Jim opened his mouth, a hot anger to match Leonard’s flashing across his face, Leonard warned, “Don’t say a word. Not. A. Fucking. Word. Now, I’m gonna go into the back and clean up your mess. If Spock wants to forgive you, that’s his choice, but just so we’re clear, you and me—if you don’t want him, you don’t get me.”

It all made sense in that moment: the package deal. But Leonard couldn’t care about what he was saying, didn’t want to care, because he was so, so close to exploding into a violent rampage. If he knew it wouldn’t cause more difficulty in the long run, he would take this wooden chair under his hands and smash it against the floor until the pieces were too small to be destroyed. Instead, McCoy leashed that vicious urge and walked away. A gaping customer quickly moved out of his path; people no doubt flinched when he punched his fist into the swinging door to open it.

If Leonard’s frame of mind had been a little less volatile, he might have questioned the shock on Jim’s face. As it was, he had only one purpose in mind.

In the kitchen, Spock was standing a few feet from the door, his pale face clearly marked with indecision and the weight of an unspoken grief.

“If you heard that,” Leonard said, “you’ll know I’m not sorry.”

Spock looked at him, seemed to struggle with a word. When it came, Leonard’s blood boiled over.

“…Jim…”

“Fuck Jim! Fuck his stupid, two-faced self! He doesn’t deserve you, Spock—”

“Leonard, Jim is—”

“—and that’s no big fucking wonder! Has he ever even noticed you worship the ground he walks on? My god, man, I’ve never seen an idiot with his head so far up his ass—and he can’t even deem to love you a little bit in return?!”

“Jim,” Spock said in such a way that it finally dawned on Leonard Spock wasn’t just mindlessly repeating the name.

The words stopped flooding from Leonard’s mouth like someone had shut off a spigot. He turned. Jim was there, in the doorway.

It occurred to Leonard then he might have been a little more vehement than was necessary in his ranting.

Jim fully slipped inside the room and closed the door with a gentleness that belied the palpable tension in the air. Spock suddenly looked very ill, indeed. Leonard backed up slightly, until he was level with Spock, and thought maybe this was a good position to catch the man should he pass out.

Leonard had a good poker face, but Kirk’s was better. He couldn’t tell what Jim was thinking or feeling or even planning to do next. Jim just looked at them, looked at them for so long that Leonard inevitably burst out with “Well, what the fuck are you staring at?”

Jim switched his focus solely to Spock, who kind of—very, very minutely—swayed on his feet. Leonard grabbed his hand.

What was he supposed to do? Support Spock or punch Jim? Now Leonard was confused, and that was odd, given he had been extremely clear-headed about the matter a minute ago.

“You’re with Leonard,” Kirk said.

Spock couldn’t very well deny it with Leonard clutching his hand. He nodded.

“You kissed me. It wasn’t…” Jim did not finish what he intended to say, as if he had difficulty making sense of his thoughts.

Leonard almost said “He did?”, thought about the statement for a split second, and asked the man at his side, “Was he better?”

A jolt ran through Spock.

Leonard tugged on Spock’s hand. “Well, was he?” He knew instinctively the question would help Spock regain some of his equilibrium.

Spock murmured, “I was unaware you required me to perform a comparison.”

“Then I guess you don’t want to know how you compared to Jim.”

A spark came into Spock’s eyes, replacing their dull sheen. “You will tell me.”

“Nooo,” Leonard said, even though it hadn’t been a request, “don’t think I will.”

Jim, who had hitherto been watching their exchange in silence, made a strangled noise. He muttered, “Excuse me” and exited through the swinging door hastily.

Spock deflated.

Leonard squeezed his hand. “It’ll hurt less in time,” he said softly, sympathetically. “…And I meant it earlier when I said I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to face him on your own. I messed up, Spock.”

Spock tightened his grip on Leonard’s hand. “This has happened again,” he said, lifting up their joined hands to inspect them.

“I’m going to be so, so severely disappointed if you’re not a hand-holder,” he commented dryly.

Spock said nothing because he didn’t need to. He pointedly didn’t let go of Leonard’s hand.

When, however, Spock looked at the door that separated them from Jim (or wherever Jim had run to), Leonard felt true disappointment. His anger had fizzled out unexpectedly, which was for the better he supposed since anger had never served to make Leonard’s life easier in the past; but in its place was something much more depressing.

“I’m right here,” he reiterated this morning’s assurance to Spock, “and if you’ll just let me stay, maybe I can—”

Jim exploded through the doorway, almost stumbling in his haste. His face was unusually red. “Customers…gone…now,” Kirk panted. When Leonard and Spock simply stared at him, Jim straightened somewhat and absently rubbed his arm, like he had banged it against a table or a chair in passing.

His eyes glittered oddly.

“Shit,” Leonard said, because Jim appeared a little too manic and that look never boded well for anyone.

Spock, on the other hand, seemed to have figured out something Leonard had not. He asked Jim with perfect calm, “Did you lock the door?”

Kirk pulled a set of keys out of his jeans’ pocket and dropped them to the floor. Smirked.

Leonard suddenly felt he had reason to panic, and did.

Next Part

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