Title: Untitled (2/?)
Disclaimer: Thank you to Paramount and Roddenberry; you get the credit.
Summary: Something has changed McCoy and he’s not sure how to explain it to his lovers.
Previous parts: Part 1.
Apparently, he shouldn’t have bothered wanting.
There was something wrong with Bones. He felt a hitch in his chest just acknowledging that fact.
Oh, the doctor was there, sharing the same ocean-side condominium. Physically. But if Jim’s gut was anything to go by (and he prided himself on trusting his instincts), Bones was pulling away. He sat at the table, ate the same meal but carried on conversation quietly. A walk on the wide beach and he stayed two steps behind.
Jim had tried a myriad of tactics to reach Bones: patiently waiting (that didn’t last long), angry confrontation (earned him a scowl and an empty side of the bed), and a friendly offering of alcohol. He had really hoped the latter would work, but they—minus Spock—shared a mutual glass before Bones turned down a refill in lieu of a solitary amble along the shore.
That’s when Jim realized his lover was in more than just a mood. As it stood, he and Spock were utterly unable to identify what was bothering McCoy.
Spock was as disturbed as Jim, though his countenance betrayed little. Between bondmates, an understanding would have been instantaneous, shared. A problem for one was a problem for both. But Spock did not have such a strong mental connection with Leonard. Normally, he was content with the light brushing of minds (more solidly of emotions—after all, Leonard was an exemplary emotional human); but in the face of his mate’s strange behavior, Spock could not help but admit the possible illogic of being only partially bonded.
He recalled his initial approach.
Leonard sat hunched over a coffee mug (We’re damn well going to have the real thing on shore leave, Jim!) and Jim, boot in hand, was frowning down at its twin. Then a pat to Spock’s shoulder, a murmured “don’t worry about Bones, none of us is up-to-par yet” (here Spock’s eyebrow raise indicated undeniably, Captain) and Jim left for his morning run.
Leonard straightened and sighed, “You’ve got something to say, Spock? Well.” The doctor glanced over. “Spit it out.”
“I have made no indication for such an action, Doctor.”
“Your eyes were drillin’ holes in my back. I’d say that was some indication!”
“We have been on shore leave for 3.6 days. After less than two-fifths of that time, you have begun to exhibit a change in behavioral patterns for which I can identify no logical catalyst–“
“Now, listen here you blasted hob–“
Spock interrupted the doctor’s surmounting defense. “Leonard, I am–” he paused momentarily, “–apprehensive on your behalf.”
The fire in Leonard’s eyes eased. “You’re worried about me.”
Leonard clearly wanted to say something else. Spock could see a muscle working in his jaw, as if he fought back words. Spock waited.
The man sighed, his face suddenly too pinched. “Look, just… not yet, okay? I’m not ready yet.”
No, Spock thought, he clearly was not. And the Vulcan had accepted this (meager) explanation that was really no explanation at all.