Title: Confessions of a Southern Gentleman (3/4)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Leonard is determined to help his friend out in the matters of love, only he does not realize he might be part of that matter in some way.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2

Jim has a problem. Well, to be honest, he has two problems: the first one being that he has let himself pine after two close friends whom clearly he can never have; and the second one quickly turning into the crux of the matter—that it’s his responsibility to help those friends find happiness with each other. They’re good together, Bones and Spock, and Jim is, Jim is…

Jim is a little heartbroken and more than a little jealous.

He’s also an asshole, he has come to the conclusion, because he knows deep down he isn’t going to help them at all.

Leonard is more than pleased when they beam back to the Enterprise with minimal injuries and their—that is, his—sanity intact.

It had been an awkward night in the tiny cavern trying to keep close enough to Spock to provide extra body heat yet at the same time maintain a professional distance. Then there was Jim to consider, who had made himself a little nest in the farthest corner (not that that was far at all) and refused to contribute his share of the body heat for Spock’s well-being. Leonard had felt a chasm between them yawn wide and even now is at a loss to understand why it existed.

Or perhaps he should say ‘exists’, as trying to catch up to Jim in the corridor is proving that chasm has not gone away over the course of several days.

“Jim!” he cries, finally breaking into a slow jog to reach his friend.

At last, Kirk stills and waits for him.

Leonard reads reluctance in Jim’s body language and feels more confused.

“What is it, Bones?” his captain wants to know when Leonard fails to say something right away.

“We’re… we’re still on for dinner tonight?”

Something passes through those blue eyes fixed on him, too quickly to be interpreted. “No,” Jim says slowly, “I’m sorry… I have plans.”

“Oh.” Leonard doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment. “Some other time then.”

Jim nods and turns away, but oddly turns right back to suggest, “Why don’t you ask Spock?”

He’s not you, Leonard thinks. Instead he goes with “I might.”

Jim nods again, tossing a “Good” over his shoulder as he walks away.

What, Leonard has to wonder, has changed?

“Do you think he’s playin’ hard to get?”

The person to whom the question has been addressed glances up from the device in his hands, blinking. “Doctor?”

“Geez, Spock, can you take your nose outta that report for half a second while I’m talking?”

Not waiting for a response, Leonard steals the PADD, sticks it under his arm and backs up two steps from the desk.

Spock looks at the man in dismay. “Your actions are highly inappropriate.”

“And childish,” Leonard adds. “Want to make something of it?”

Spock forces a little more air through his nose than is necessary and settles for folding his hands in his lap. “No, I do not believe Jim is attempting to ‘play hard to get’.”

“So what’s he doing then? Ignoring us for the sake of actually ignoring us?“

The Vulcan lifts one eyebrow. “That would seem to be the case.”

Leonard takes the PADD out from under his arm and waves it around, exclaiming, “Of all the idiotic—why would he do that! I thought he liked us!”

Spock’s eyes track the wild flailing of Leonard’s arm. “Doctor, would you please return that to me before—”

Leonard vehemently stabs the air with the PADD. “Spock, you said Jim was interested. Well, guess what? HE’S NOT.”

“Doctor.”

“So what the hell did I just spend this past week doing? My god,” the doctor says, swinging the PADD around, “I thought I had a chance! I thought maybe it wasn’t so pointless after all to be in love with my best friend, and…” He trails off and drops his arms back to his sides, shoulders curving downward. “Damn you, Spock,” he finishes without any real heat. “Why’d you have to be wrong?”

“Leonard, if you will, come here.”

Leonard gives the Vulcan a considering look before closing part of the distance between them. “Why?” he wants to know, unable to determine exactly what Spock is up to. Because Spock doesn’t stop staring at him in that unnerving way of his, Leonard finally obeys.

The Vulcan captures his wrist and extricates the PADD, then sets it aside. To Leonard’s surprise, Spock does not let go of him afterwards, merely adjusts his grip and tugs lightly. Without thinking, Leonard sits down on the edge of the desk.

Spock releases him then, returning both hands to his lap. “Leonard, I understand your concern. I also understand your fear. Rest assured, there is no need to feel either. Jim is avoiding you for the explicit reason that he cannot determine how to approach you. Therefore, you must approach him.”

Leonard opens his mouth, then closes it and frowns. “This is backwards, Spock. I came here to tell you to go after him. To not let him ignore you.”

“I thank you for that advice, however unnecessary it may be.”

Leonard leans forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Spock tilts his head ever-so-slightly. “It means I have no intention of being ignored—and that you must go first.”

“I must…” Leonard stops mid-echo and sits back again. “Okay, you green-blooded… green-blooded… never mind! You’re up to something, aren’t you? No, don’t look at me like that. I can smell Vulcan sneakiness from a mile away!”

“Doctor, that statement is illogical.”

“You’re illogical!”

“And you are attractive when you are petty.”

Leonard nearly falls off the desk.

Spock watches the man fumble back into an upright position. “Did you injure yourself?”

“Are you out of your Vulcan mind?” Leonard sputters, his face hot, as he backs toward the door.

Spock picks up the PADD which he had recovered. “I believe I have shown my hand. Now it is time that you made yours known to Jim.” Tapping the screen to activate it, his gaze drops to the device. “Thank you for the visit, Dr. McCoy.”

Leonard doesn’t need to hear the dismissal twice. He hurries from Science as quickly as his legs will carry him, knocking clumsily into a lab technician on his way out.

The technician enters the Science Officer’s office, wondering, “Was that Dr. McCoy? He seemed like he was in a hurry.”

“Yes. He has happened upon a discovery which he did not expect and is now preoccupied by it.”

“Ah,” murmurs the tech. “That’s the best part about working in space, isn’t it, sir? The unexpected.”

Spock transfers his gaze from the report to the human, agreeing solemnly, “Indeed it is.”

Leonard decides later on that Spock is a little chickenshit. In fact, he is muttering such when his head nurse calls his name for the third time and finally manages to catch his attention.

“I don’t want to know what he’s done,” she says while taking the medical equipment from Leonard’s hands which he is currently abusing.

“Nobody’s done anything!” Leonard snaps.

“Clearly,” Chapel replies, her tone dry. “Next time you see Nobody, could you tell him that your staff asks him not to wind you up before your scheduled appointments? We just had two of them cancel because they happened to see you loading the hyposprays like plasma rifles and it scared the shit out of them.” She shakes her head in mock sadness. “We may never get those two back!”

“Infants,” Leonard mutters under his breath, and finally gives up his anger. “All right, I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Send me someone who hasn’t cancelled.”

Christine retrieves a small clipboard from her belt and scrolls through its contents. “That would be the Captain in one hour.” Looking at her boss through her eyelashes, she adds, “Although he usually has his yeoman reschedule right before he’s due in.”

Leonard’s eyes narrow. “See to it that he arrives on time, Chapel.”

The nurse grins, unrepentant, and trots away with “Aye, sir!”

The voice precedes the person. “…Let’s make this quick, Dr.—”

Jim turns the corner of the small, private exam room and stops short, his “M’Benga” dying to silence.

Leonard McCoy smiles at him from across an examination table.

Jim takes a step in retreat, only to hear the door hiss shut behind him. There is no point in checking to see if it’s locked; he would bet his last credit that it is.

“Bones,” he greets, wary. “Where’s M’Benga?”

“Who now?” drawls the other man.

“M’Benga,” Jim insists. “I was told you weren’t available today, so—”

“So,” Leonard finishes for him, “you decided there was an advantage in actually keeping your appointment because I wouldn’t be here. Me, the man who is your primary physician.” The doctor rubs at his jaw. “Did I get that right?”

Oh crap. “Bones…”

Leonard looks away, at the tricorder in his hand, and says, “Shirt off, Captain.”

Jim has a moment to panic, which is ridiculous because he never panics, not even at the hands of the enemy.

But then again, Bones isn’t his enemy. He’s everything that’s right in Jim’s life. Somehow, that makes Jim feel justified in his reaction.

The doctor flicks his gaze back to Kirk. “What’re you standing there for? Shirt off, and get on the table.”

“You know, Doctor, I just remembered that I can’t be here,” Jim improvises. “Command needs a briefing on—”

“Jim,” Leonard interrupts, coming around the table, “if you keep stalling, I’m gonna get suspicious, and the more suspicious I get, the longer you’ll be here.”

Jim presses his mouth into a line and concedes defeat by tugging the hem of his shirt over his head. He goes to the table with Leonard on his heels waving a tricorder after him.

“You know how this works,” the doctor tells him. “General physical first, stress test second.”

Jim has no doubt the stress test will have interesting results. He clamps his hands to the edge of the table as he sits down. When McCoy starts into a typical round of questions (any unusual symptoms or feelings of not being well? regular bowel movements?), Jim answers as shortly as possible, hoping to speed the process along.

“No problems with your digestive tract, good to know. Have you had any trouble sleeping?”

I haven’t slept in three days. “No.”

Leonard eyes him. “You sure?”

“If I can’t sleep, I take one of the pills you gave me.”

The doctor jots something down. “How many times have you used the sleeping prescription in the last month?”

“Once.”

The lie is obvious to Jim’s ears but Leonard makes no comment on it and moves on with the questioning.

“Hm, your blood pressure is a little higher than normal.”

“I don’t know why,” Jim interjects.

“Okay…” Leonard gives him a strange look. “What was the last thing you had to eat?”

Drink, actually, and that was some of Scotty’s hooch. He offers Bones a thin smile. “Salad, of course, as prescribed by my dietician.”

“Of course,” Jim’s dietician echoes, amusement softening his countenance. “I assume the replicator records will agree.”

They might say donuts. Lots of donuts. Jim had had a craving for them. “I know they will,” he replies, silently adding after I change them.

“Uh-huh,” agrees the doctor, again jotting something down. “How often are you exercising?”

“Once a day.”

“What kind of exercise?”

“Running, weights, Grav-sims if I can find a partner.”

“Can you think of any reason you should not perform a stress test at this time?”

“No,” Jim answers, staring at a spot on the wall over McCoy’s shoulder.

“Have you been injured on or off-duty in the last week?”

“No.”

“Would you be willing to date Spock?”

“Ye—w-what?” Jim stutters, his brain catching up a moment too late.

Leonard makes a humming noise under his breath and writes another note.

“Bones!”

“We should start the stress test now, Captain.”

Jim finds himself gritting his teeth as Leonard motions for him to slide off the table. “Bones,” he tries again.

Leonard pauses to cock his head and consider Jim. “Yes, sir?”

Jim’s eyes drop down to the PADD. “What kind of question was that?”

“Which one?”

“The obviously not medical-related one!”

Leonard purses his mouth, as if in thought. “Why, I’m pretty sure they were all within my right to ask as a doctor. Now quit fussin’, kid. I’ve got appointments lined up.”

Leonard tries to budge Jim with a poke of his stylus but Jim stays planted in the same spot, hands flexing as his gaze switches from the PADD to Leonard’s face and back again. He can think of only one reason Bones would ask him that question.

And it’s not a reason he wanted to face… yet here he is.

When the doctor goes to prod him again, Jim takes the stylus from him and tosses it on the table at his back. “Bones,” he says, leveling his gaze at his doctor, “I’m not with my First Officer.”

“Any fool knows that, Jim. What’s your point?”

“My point?” he repeats, incredulous. “You just asked me if I was dating Spock!”

“No I didn’t. I asked if you’d be willing.”

Jim denies, “Of course not!”

Leonard makes another note.

He can’t stand it. He simply can’t. Jim leaps for the damned PADD, missing it by a hair’s breadth as Leonard twists to the side. Jim immediately re-groups, always quick on his feet, but the doctor is quicker, it seems, as he scurries out of the room. Jim goes after him with a bellow of “Bones! BONES!”

Leonard is proving to be wilier than Jim ever imagined an irascible doctor could be. The man ducks behind staff and slips around carts with practiced ease. Jim barrels into them instead, sending an organized med bay into chaos. Someone wants to know, as the ship’s captain careens left, “What’s going on?”

Someone else replies, “Stress test!”

That brings Jim up short. He glances around, realizes his crew is looking back (some of them appearing long-suffering; others, very interested), and recollects that he is bare-chested.

“Here you are, Captain,” a petite brunette with twinkling eyes says as she offers him his missing gold tunic.

He thanks her. Once his head has cleared the fabric, he demands of his audience, “Where’s McCoy?”

“His next appointment,” replies Geoffrey M’Benga, who enters the area with a quick stride, retrieving a chart from a nurse as he passes by. “Follow me, sir. Leonard has requested that I complete your physical so he can remain on schedule today.”

Jim stares at him. “Since when?”

“When? Well, he messaged me a few minutes ago.” Geoff, clearly not understanding why Jim starts cursing under his breath, calls his name with growing unease. “Captain? Captain?”

Jim closes his eyes just briefly, opening them again once his dismay is properly contained. “Never mind. I am fine. This is fine.” He turns back for the part of Sickbay made up of exam rooms. “Let’s put this to bed, M’Benga.”

He leads the way, the Assistant CMO trailing behind.

Bones was challenging him, he decides—and Jim Kirk hasn’t ever refused a challenge!

To: Cmdr. S’chn T’gai Spock
From: Lt. Cmdr. Leonard H. McCoy

Confirmed interest of James T. Kirk in humanoid, pain-in-the-ass species known as Vulcans.

Go get ‘im, Spock!

The First Officer of the starship Enterprise opens the intra-departmental communication, reads it once, and does something very human:

He sighs.

He knows now that he should not have anticipated anything other than a less-than-satisfactory outcome, ironically the kind which often results from leaving the solution of an emotional impasse in the hands of an overly emotional human. It had seemed prudent to allow Dr. McCoy time to conclude logically on their situation. Instead Leonard has done nothing except continue on his stubborn way at cost to himself, and frankly Spock can stand it no more.

His mother told him once that there comes a time when one must take those who are erring in hand whether they wish it or not. Only by firm guidance can they be taught to do better.

Clearly these humans are in error. Moreover, they are about to veer onto a path which Spock believes will suit the three of them ill and hinder their ability to achieve a proper resolution.

Yes, now is the time to act.

He opens a new communication and does so with a simple invitation which neither Leonard McCoy nor Jim Kirk will have a valid reason to decline.

Next Part

Related Posts:

• Confessions of a Southern Gentleman (4/4) – from April 23, 2014
• Confessions of a Southern Gentleman (2/4) – from April 14, 2014
• Confessions of a Southern Gentleman (1/4) – from April 10, 2014