Title: A Moment’s Peace
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Spock contemplates one of the more unusual aspects of a romantic attachment to the Captain and the CMO.
A/N: Happy Memorial Day, everyone.

The two humans had been particularly aroused that evening and exhausted themselves. Now they slept deeply. As Spock exited the bathroom, having removed the evidence of his participation in their physical exertions so he might be comfortable in his regulation sleeping attire, he paused by the foot of the bed and experienced a peculiar moment of pleasure.

It was not pleasure of the body, he determined after some seconds’ contemplation. It was a pleasure born purely of the mind.

Jim shifted in his sleep and unconsciously pressed his cheek more firmly against the curve of Leonard’s bare shoulder. Leonard’s hand, resting just above the bend of Kirk’s elbow, responded with an automatic caress. Jim visibly settled.

Their minds were blanketed by their dreams and yet their bodies were still attuned to one another. Spock’s sense of pleasure deepened. He turned from the bed and the sight of his two companions therein to ponder the feeling with mild fascination.

What was it, precisely, that brought these men to him? Why was he equally compelled to accept them?

They did not always ‘get along’ because socially, culturally and emotionally they were hard-wired to be as different as night and day, Doctor McCoy was often fond of pointing out. For some reason, this caused Jim Kirk to laugh.

Spock knew it to be true. Of the three of them, he and Leonard were the two who clashed the most over differing values and opinions. In the rare instance that Spock did agree with something Leonard said, he was left with the distinct impression such a show of support made Leonard uncomfortable. Spock could only assume, then, that the doctor’s perversity was inherent to ornery humans.

When he disagreed with Kirk (which was not as scarce an occurrence as he preferred), the negative impact was often more long-lasting and less trivial than with the doctor. Jim’s pride was easy to wound and Spock, alas, could fathom no logical list of triggers to avoid. It made him wonder, oddly enough, if his father had found a strategy for dealing with sensitive humans. Not that he believed his mother had had an overly fragile personality (for Spock had always admired her fortitude more than his father’s when his parents argued) but Spock’s experiences with humans—barring the brief period of ‘dating’ with Lieutenant Uhura—was sadly lacking.

He did not quite understand them.

Despite all, here he was, drawn deeper into a complex relationship—a three-pronged one at that—with the passing of each stardate. If the Enterprise‘s five-year mission was successfully completed, he would likely have no route from which to escape this partnership. Chances dictated there was a high possibility he would not want to.

Why he was certain of that knowledge, Spock could not say. Amanda Grayson would have, he theorized, called it the ‘heart’s intuition’. What Spock discounted as conceptually illogical from other humans, he had never failed to believe from his mother.

He allowed himself a moment to miss her with a fierceness he attributed to his human half. To do so was fitting. Especially today.

Spock was drawn abruptly from his thoughts by a stirring of air in the cabin.

“Hey,” a soft voice spoke from behind him, “couldn’t sleep?”

Spock admitted without much thought, “I did not hear you awaken.”

Leonard McCoy ran fingers through his disheveled hair, his usually pensive mouth curling slightly at the corners. But even standing upright and smiling, the man looked half-asleep.

“You should return to your rest,” Spock told him and glanced at the bed where a sleeping Jim still lay curled in on himself. “I believe the Captain misses you.”

Leonard did not respond with words, taking Spock by surprise when instead he closed the distance between them and leaned into Spock’s body. Spock returned the embrace after a short hesitation. A hand patted his back.

Leonard let him go. “You should come back to bed.”

“I do not require sleep at this time.”

“Let me rephrase that,” Leonard amended, sounding gentle and amused at the same time. “We want you to come back to bed.”

Spock could have pointed out Leonard should not speak on behalf of a man who was asleep, but he knew a declaration of that nature would be wrong. Leonard’s mind always held thoughts like Jim’s, as well as thoughts of Jim.

And thoughts of Spock, too, such as now. Those thoughts had glided around the periphery of Spock’s mental shielding when they had touched, all grace and concern. Leonard was thinking of him in that moment, very intently, though Spock did not know the specifics of those thoughts.

Leonard’s gaze stayed trained on his, as if trying to convey a tacit permission for Spock to ask why.

Spock looked away to consider the rumpled sheets of the bed, and he watched Jim stretch and sigh and begin to rouse from a dream. Leonard lifted a hand and rubbed at his eyes, the movement slow and somewhat stilted.

Spock made a decision without actively weighing the pros and the cons of the request and turned Leonard towards the bed. “Come,” the Vulcan said. “We have no need to be awake and aware for approximately four point two hours.”

Jim groaned and called in a groggy tone at hearing a voice, “Spock?” Kirk’s arm flung itself across the expanse of the empty bed. “Bones?”

“Here, kid. It’s okay. Go on to sleep.” Leonard crawled into the center of the bed and gave Jim a gentle nudge to move him over. Jim did so without protest and once he was situated, immediately rolled onto his side and tugged McCoy’s back in against his body. Spock laid down on the opposite side of Leonard and briefly touched his fingertips to those of Jim’s outstretched and waiting for him, offering the reassurance of his presence that Jim wanted. Then Spock folded his hands over his stomach, closed his eyes and listened.

Kirk’s breath evened out within minutes.

Leonard asked afterwards, careful and quiet, from near the Vulcan’s shoulder, “Have you talked to Sarek?”

“No,” Spock replied. “On this day he and most of the survivors on New Vulcan are not to be disturbed. It is a rite of mourning for those which have been lost.” He paused before answering the unspoken question. “But I sent him a message prior, and I will contact him again tomorrow.”

“All right.”

Leonard said nothing else but he rolled forward, bringing Kirk and their joined hands with him. Those two interlaced human hands met with Spock’s forearm and lingered there, not as a weight but as a comfort.

Spock did not know he could feel so grateful for what he had and not also feel shock over it. Loss, he later reflected, had a way of changing one’s views. It had a way of making glaringly important that which a person like him might have been, in another time and place, too slow to recognize as needed in his life. Wisdom was a pearl of great price.

Would his mother have rejoiced in his connection to Jim and Leonard? In his learning to love as well as live?

Even with her dying, he thought so.

-Fini

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