Title: For the Sake of Nothing, Part 28 (28/28)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: The epilogue.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27

All was quiet. Leonard had left an oblivious Jim face-down on the bed and had waved goodbye to Spock, who was reading the morning paper in the kitchen, on his way outside. It was somewhat of a routine now in the early hours of Sunday that he journeyed to his apartment across town. Leonard knew he ought to make an official change, as Jim had, by moving those last important pieces of himself over to the house he shared with two people, but in his heart he didn’t feel quite ready to let go of the vestiges of where and who he had been. So Leonard settled at his rickety writing desk, its collapse prevented by the stack of magazines under one leg, and observed the neighborhood through the cracked panes of his window. The view, strangely, was less dismal than he remembered. The building on the opposite side of the street, though still decrepit and playing host to many unsavory characters, was ringed by a scattering of wildflowers that peeked out from the concrete pavement. They softened the image of what was worn and abandoned, and reminded Leonard that time stayed still for no man.

He picked up his pencil and tapped it against a blank notebook page. The constant pressure to invoke words and build tales was mysteriously absent. Today felt lazy, like it should be less about writing and more about relaxation. Without thinking too hard on why, he began to sketch the scenery through the window. Despite his ordinary drawing ability, a picture took shape. It was a shame, Leonard thought, that he had only the charcoal shades of his pencil to capture the beautiful day.

He didn’t realize how long he had been occupied until his stomach growled. Having skipped breakfast (Leonard nor his family had been particular about the meal unless it was a special occasion), he figured he ought to make himself a sandwich. Venturing to the old refrigerator, he opened it—and grimaced. How it is the mold came back so fast? Just yesterday, it seemed, he had been on his knees scrubbing down the bulky applicance’s interior with Lysol while Jocelyn “helpfully” coordinated his efforts.

Leonard shut the door and considered his options. He jingled a set of keys in his pocket and rocked back on his heels as he mulled. Coming to the conclusion that since this was his day, dedicated solely to his need for alone-time, he should go to that little Chinese restaurant a few streets over. His stomach agreed loudly. It had been a while since he had one of their deliciously crunchy egg rolls and suddenly he craved one.

Decided, Leonard left his apartment.

Thump. Thump thump.

Spock lowered his paper. “Jim, is that action necessary?”

Jim, perched on the kitchen counter, stilled the swinging motion of his legs. He blinked sleepily at Spock over his bowl of cereal then gave the wooden door beneath his heels a blank look. …And thumped his left heel against it one time. Jim went back to eating his cereal, saying, “It’s half the fun of sitting up here, Spock.”

Spock had his doubts about that. Then again Jim was, as Leonard had pointed out one morning while Jim did this very thing, still too much of a child at heart. He saw many things differently than Spock did. Usually Spock could appreciate the need for an alternate perspective.

But not today. The newspaper rattled in his hands as he turned a page. “Please desist.”

Thump. “Are you giving me an order?” Thump-thump. “Because I think we both know how well I take orders.”

“I am asking you to cease your abuse of my kitchen cabinet.”

“What will you give me if I do?”

Spock considered the question for a moment. “What do you want?”

Jim dropped his empty bowl on the counter and jumped down, a devilish grin spreading across his face. Mildly alarmed now, Spock raised the newspaper to shield himself from Jim’s view. His posture stiffened as he heard Jim circling the table. Maybe he should have said he did not negotiate. Leonard would have said that.

Hands landed on Spock’s shoulders. Jim leaned down to whisper against his ear, “What do I want? I can think of several things I want right now.”

Spock folded the paper along its crease-marks and set it down. Jim prevented his rise from the chair, however, by pressing down on his shoulders. Spock said, “You should dress for the day, Jim.”

One of Jim’s hands slid down his arm and plucked at his shirt sleeve. “You should get undressed.”

Spock twisted around to look at Jim. “I have a schedule.”

Jim was watching him through lowered lashes. “Didn’t my secretary call your secretary? I need you to fit me in your schedule today, Spock.”

A thought occurred to Spock. He cocked an eyebrow. “I doubt Leonard usually discusses matters with himself.”

It took a moment for Spock’s meaning to register. On Jim’s face, confusion transformed into amusement. Jim grinned and released him. “Was that a joke?”

“It was an observation.” Spock stood up.

“Wait until I tell Bones!”

Must you, Jim? It was probably pointless to ask. Spock tracked Jim’s movements across the kitchen as he performed a mental check of the day’s to-do list. His mind stuttered to a stop halfway through the list when he noticed the tail of Jim’s shirt had ridden up at the waistband of his loose grey pants and exposed the soft skin of Jim’s back. He heard his voice faintly, as if from a distance. “Your shirt… is un-tucked.”

Jim scratched the back of his head without turning around, still focused on whatever he was doing to his cereal bowl in the sink.

“Jim.”

Jim switched off the faucet and cocked his head to show he was listening. “Yes, Spock?”

A delay would not reduce his proposed productivity today, at least not from an efficiency standpoint. Spock carefully recalibrated the time he had allotted for lunch. “I believe my schedule has an opening.”

Jim turned around to smile at him. The smile looked more like a smirk as he said, “I knew you’d see things my way.” Kirk pulled down his shirt to cover the bare patch of skin as he approached Spock.

This, Spock decided, was why he needed Leonard. Jim had tricked him again. He would feel embarrassment, given how easily his lover had manipulated him, except he was otherwise occupied with Jim’s mouth.

After a minute or so, Spock reminded himself softly as he changed the angle of the kiss, “One must first learn of sacrifice before learning of enlightenment.”

Jim made a noise against his mouth that sounded like agreement. Then he reluctantly broke away and laid his cheek in the grove of Spock’s shoulder and neck, his arms hugging Spock’s body. “Later,” Jim said, voice rough, “we find Bones.”

“Yes,” Spock replied, taking Jim’s hand and leading him out of the kitchen. Later turned into after lunch.

More often than not Leonard forgot to check his mailbox. It was only when he spied a neighboring tenant riffling through letters as she exited the building that Leonard recalled he hadn’t gotten his mail in over a week and a half. The affair was anti-climatic; the small rectangular mailbox that had been designated as his within a cubbyhole-like structure had all of four letters inside, stamped and post-dated. Two of them were credit card offers. Leonard snorted and pitched those into a nearby trash can. The last thing he needed was extra bills to pay.

Bemused, he looked over the third letter, a card of some sort in a bright yellow envelope with Jocelyn’s address neatly printed on the back. As he shifted it aside and saw the last letter, his grip turned sweat-slick and he almost dropped what he was holding. Leonard recovered and worked his thumb under the seal, tearing through the flap.

Dear Mr. McCoy, the letter began.

As soon as he read the first sentence, a warm funny feeling spread throughout his chest. Leonard looked up, grinning lopsidedly, at the person muttering a polite excuse me while squeezing by Leonard in the narrow hallway in order to get to the stairwell. The person turned to look back at him the second before entering the stairwell, no doubt disturbed by his almost visually luminescent glow of happiness. Because, truly, anyone who had to live in such a crappy old building could never be that happy.

Leonard smoothed out the crinkles his fingers had made along the letter’s edge, went out to the street and beamed at the wildflowers on the sidewalk (who beamed back at him, bobbing their heads lazily) and shook the letter with a whoop at the sky. If he looked like a crazed fool to passersby Leonard thought nothing of the glances sent his way. He returned inside the building and fairly skipped to his apartment, his mood jovial. That mood did not diminish when, upon entering his apartment, he came upon visitors loitering around his writing desk.

“Hey, look at this!” Leonard called, striding over to Jim and Spock with the letter held out in an imperial gesture.

Jim took the letter. Leonard was too pre-occupied with his good fortune to notice Spock was holding Leonard’s writing notebook in his hands.

“Wow, this is great, Bones!” Jim said as he read through a paragraph. Leonard waited an additional two agonizing seconds before stealing the letter from Jim and shoving it under Spock’s nose.

“I assume this is your acceptance letter to resume your studies,” Spock remarked without so much as looking it.

Leonard bounced on the balls of his feet in both excitement and agitation. “Well, read it and find out!”

With his back to Jim, Leonard could not see the man make a pointed motion at the letter. Spock stared at Kirk as if to say your direction is unnecessary, and yes I do intend to do as he wishes. He accepted the letter and began to read.

Half a minute later, Leonard exploded, “You don’t have to read all of it!“

Spock ignored him.

Jim had flung an arm around Leonard’s shoulders in the meantime and teased, “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind and use the insurance money to go to Malibu?”

“Some of us make smart life choices, kid.”

“Funny, somebody tried to tell me about that once. I was too busy trying to jump out of a car to pay attention.” When Leonard looked at him askance, Jim nudged Leonard with his hip. “Never mind. Spock’s just annoyed that you weren’t here when we arrived.”

“Speaking of,” Leonard complained, “what gives you the right to let yourselves in while I’m gone?”

“I don’t know, Bones,” Jim said slowly like he was humoring the man, “maybe because we sleep together?”

“Whatever.”

Jim slid his hand across Leonard’s shoulder blade and to the side of his neck. His hand rested there, warm, thumb stroking the skin just behind Leonard’s ear. It was very hard not to react to the intimacy; Leonard thought he managed well, crossing his arms and settling a glare on Spock, who finally lowered the letter and offered his congratulations.

“Your enthusiasm rocks me to the soles of my feet, Spock,” Leonard quipped.

“I fear I do not quite comprehend your metaphor.”

He snorted. “Stick in the mud.“

“Nor that one,” Spock added mildly.

Jim caught Leonard’s hand before he could express his sentiments succinctly with his middle finger. “Can we save this foreplay for the bedroom, gentlemen?”

Leonard narrowed his eyes at Jim. “Gentlemen? Why are you calling us gentlemen?”

Jim blinked and replied, “I don’t know?”

“I must agree with Leonard. Gentleman is not an accurate description of him in the least.”

Leonard snatched his precious letter out of Spock’s hands with a snarl. “‘N I suppose you think you’re the epitome of manners and social niceties!”

Spock’s eyebrow shot up. “I am surprised you know the definition of ‘niceties’.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Jim said, trying to squeeze in between them when Leonard’s eyes lit up at the challenge. “I’m really, really hungry,” he whined at Spock. “Can we eat first?” He made a sad face and pointed at his belly, which rumbled on cue.

Leonard dropped the letter on his desk. “You haven’t had lunch yet? It’s almost two.”

“We were hoping you’d want to grab a bite with us,” Jim said.

“I already ate,” Leonard said, “but since you came all the way over here to get me, I guess I can come along and keep you company.”

“Great!”

Spock asked, “Are you certain? I tried to explain to Jim that you may not wish to have your… solitude interrupted today but he was insistent.”

Leonard smiled fondly at the slight pout on Jim’s face. “When isn’t he insistent? It’s fine, Spock.”

Jim fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable, and admitted, “I missed you. Sorry.”

Leonard understood even as he said, “You see me every day, Jim.” He shared a look with Spock. Things were on the right track but the going was slow. Jim still had his moments where he tested them, not out of spite but out of insecurity. Like today, Jim simply wanted to be reassured Leonard hadn’t wandered off with the intention of never coming back. That he, Jim, had not become boring to McCoy, or useless.

Sometimes it frustrated Leonard that Jim could think like that, but he tried his best to give Jim what he needed. The frustration he discussed with Jocelyn, or vented to rather, and she always brought him out of his black mood and explained his reaction—and Jim’s—in a practical light. Leonard wondered if Spock suffered the same kind of frustration. If he did, did he simply wait it out or did he talk to someone as well?

For that matter, Leonard mused, what was it about him that frustrated Spock?

He almost asked, just to take one last playful poke at the man, but decided against it. Instead he grabbed Jim’s shoulder, pulled him close, and dropped a kiss to his mouth.

“All right,” he drawled, “where do y’all want to go to eat?”

Jim turned away to surreptitiously touch his mouth. “It’s up to Spock.” The tight line of his shoulders had relaxed. Leonard felt pleased.

Spock named a place. A grin stretched across Leonard’s face. “That’s perfect, Spock. Jim needs a salad today.”

“What?” Jim said, alarmed.

Leonard shrugged innocently. “Hey, that was the deal. I stop smoking, you eat healthier.”

Jim’s mouth worked silently. Did he think they wouldn’t take his rash promise seriously? Leonard shook his head in mock sadness. “What’re we going to do with him?” he asked, shifting to stand shoulder to shoulder with Spock.

“Conform him,” Spock answered promptly.

Jim muttered something to himself then announced, “I’ll be in the car.”

Leonard tried hard not to laugh as he watched Jim’s stiff-legged walk to the door. Once Jim was gone, he unfolded his arms and sighed. “Sometimes I still think we’re crazy for doing this.”

“Do you regret it?” The question was softly spoken and non-judgmental.

“No.” He faced Spock and studied his expression. “Do you?”

“Negative.”

Spock said odd little things like that. Leonard had to wonder how he was brought up on occasion; mostly, Spock was just… Spock. Leonard liked him different.

Spock picked up the open notebook and gently closed it, staring the title Leonard had scrawled across the front cover. “Is the story complete?”

“Not yet. There are still some things I need to work out about the characters.” He quirked his mouth. “I think they’re starting to figure out what they want from each other, though.”

The look he received was unreadable. Spock said, “I hope they are successful.”

“Me too, Spock.” He took the notebook and set it aside, placing his pencil on top of it. “C’mon. Jim won’t have gone far. Bet he’s loitering at the stairs.”

Spock took Leonard’s hand. “You will be correct.” He hesitated, said, “Jim is not the only one who missed you.”

Leonard squeezed the hand in his. “That’s good to know, darlin’. ‘Cause I missed you too. Today’s just too pretty to waste alone.”

The day before Thanksgiving…

“You made it!” Jocelyn said happily as she opened the door to her condo and smiled at the three men.

“Did we have a choice?” Leonard said in his gruff, grinning way.

He thought his gruffness was off-putting. Jocelyn had tried to explain to him once that it only made him more attractive. The silly man didn’t believe her, but she would bet Jim and Spock knew exactly what she meant.

Jim leaned in front of Leonard and presented a carefully tin-foil wrapped package. “We made pie,” he said.

A good kind of hurt filled her heart at the slightly shy way he said the words. Given what she knew about his past (which was just enough for an unpleasant picture), family holidays had probably never been spent with family—and certainly never with people who loved him. She hoped one day he might trust her enough to talk to her about it but for now she could settle for simply having his trust.

“Spock made the pie,” Leonard interjected. “Jim got to choose what kind it was.”

“And what did you do to help?” she asked, already guessing at the answer as she stepped aside to allow them into the small hallway entrance to her home.

“I stayed outta the kitchen so as to not cause the oven to spontaneously combust into flames.”

“Apparently while Leonard can cook, he cannot bake. The results are unusually disastrous” was Spock’s dry comment.

“Like a-tidal-wave-took-out-the-entire-coast kind of disastrous. We called the fire department once,” Jim added.

Jocelyn snickered. “I know. Boy, do I know! Remind me to tell you about the time he tried to make bread. He didn’t understand why the dry yeast came in little packets, ’cause surely that wasn’t enough—”

“Joss!”

“—and so he used a cup‘s worth. By the time we realized what he had done, his mother’s kitchen looked like a scene out of Ghostbusters!” She shoved a fist against her mouth, quaking with laughter. “Her reaction—oh my god!”

Face flaming red, Leonard grabbed the nearest arm—which happened to be Jim’s—and towed him into the condo. “Where’s this uncle?” he demanded, no doubt desperate to change the subject before she thought of more embarrassing moments in his life. “And why the hell am I just now gettin’ to meet him?”

“Bones, um—”

The voices turned the corner of the hallway. Jocelyn took Spock’s coat but put out a hand to stall him from following his partners. She might need an ally, and while she loved Clay to death…

Spock, perhaps recognizing a hint of her apprehension, asked, “Is something the matter?”

“I’m glad you all could come,” she said, “but about my uncle… You have met him already, though you don’t know it, and Len may—”

A yell came from the kitchen. “WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING HERE?”

Spock’s eyebrows flew up.

“—freak out,” Jocelyn finished.

Something banged. Voices rose and fell, finally tapered into dead silence.

Spock looked at her. “I have known you to be very rational in your decisions, Jocelyn. I assume you are prepared should explanations be required.” He paused before adding quietly, “You are aware of where I place my loyalty. This will never change.”

Spock was forthright. She admired that about him. “I am. I only ask for a smidgen of trust.”

He nodded.

Relieved, Jocelyn folded his coat over her arm and began to say, “Well, I should—”

Clay came hurrying past them. All he said was “Booze. In the car. We’re going to need it.”

Jocelyn thought this one time he was probably absolutely right. Though why was he stashing alcoholic beverages in his car? Maybe they needed to have a serious talk.

Spock closed the front door in Clay’s wake. “Let us hope your fiancee is not genetically predisposed to alcoholism.” Spock always seemed to encounter Clay when he was drunk or halfway to drunk.

She had thought her father’s joke crude when he said once, at a family meal, living with her mother would drive any man to drink. Could he have been telling the truth? Did this… talent of her mother’s become hers as well?

In that case, poor Clay! She should schedule a yearly appointment with his doctor to check his liver. This could be a point of discussion with his mother when they traveled to meet his family tomorrow for the holiday weekend.

She sighed and kept her thoughts private for now. “Don’t let Len get more than a third of the way through the whiskey before dinner. He’ll puke at the table and then nobody will want the dinner I spent all morning making. Also,” she sniffed, “I’ll kill ‘im if he misses and messes up my rug.”

“Duly noted,” Spock said.

“Well, time to face the music, as they say. It’ll be okay,” she said, mostly to assure herself. “After all, there have been too many coincidences to think we all came to know one another by chance.”

She could tell he was curious about what she meant. “This,” she made a vague gesture to encompass the meaning of everything and smiled, “is fate, my dear Mr. Spock.”

He was about to reply when Leonard startled them, almost falling into the hallway, sputtering, “Joss—joke, please—Uncle Chris?” He slumped against the wall with a groan. She wondered idly what had happened to Jim. She had made certain to hide the kitchen knives and given her uncle strict instructions about not touching anything that could be remotely harmful to another person.

But she had forgotten about the fire extinguisher. Oh, that would terrible, by which she meant terribly funny. Unless, of course, they ruined her property.

Spock went to Leonard and manhandled him into a proper upright position. Leonard said something to him, and they abandoned their hostess with haste.

She decided then the men had enough sense to figure out what to do without her guidance (hadn’t she been conditioning them to act more responsibly, after all?) and grabbed a set of keys from a side table. Clay would have a hard time getting into the car without the keys.

Jocelyn said firmly to Leonard’s family, far removed from this world but who nevertheless must be paying attention his shenanigans, “We’ll both keep lookin’ out for him” and let herself out of the condo to find her errant boyfriend.

-Fini

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