Title: A World of Crazy (4/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: AU. Leonard is shipped to Fleet Heights where he learns that he is part of a legendary crew that could change the world—except everyone (including him) is certifiably insane.
Previous Part: 1 | 2 | 3

Never What It Seems

Leonard is cleaning the cut on his cheek, very glad to be alone. He had guessed that Jim had the ability to land in a mess of trouble and little enough sense to not drag others into it but, somehow, having this characteristic of the Captain’s confirmed is depressing. Not that it takes a lot to depress him these days.

There’s a burly jackass of an orderly named Giotto on the first floor. Unfortunately, Jim is stupid enough to deal with the man, even though nobody else seems to want to get within three feet of Giotto. Leonard actually had hopes that the four of them were going to be okay, that is until Jim took the bag of “supplies,” handed it off to Sulu and started demanding “stuff for Bones, ’cause he’s a doctor.”

Giotto, while probably willing to provide cigarettes and chocolate bars to a bunch of nut-jobs, isn’t dumb enough to get caught stealing medical equipment. So he said no, Jim didn’t like that answer, and things escalated out of control. Leonard had just enough time to slide between Jim and the on-coming fist (because really, what kind of bastard hits a mentally incompetent patient, even if he’s irritating as Hell?) and there was less of a crack of bone—thank God—and more sharp pain in his cheek. (Turns out Giotto wears a ring on his punching hand.) After that, things were a little blurry—or rather, Jim was blur of a crazy whirlwind. (The kid knows how to fight dirty, he’ll give Kirk that much.) Chekov hauled the doctor to his feet, while Sulu stabbed Giotto in the thigh with his fork-weapon and attempted to subdue his Captain.

It was a real grade-A shit-fight, and they’re all gonna get hung by Sheriff Puri for their sins, no doubt.

Leonard finally snapped “Jim!” and said “C’mon!” when the Captain, chest heaving and as maniac as Len’s ever seen, replied uncertainly “Bones?” They, all four, stumbled out of the second floor stairwell and straight into Pike.

The supervisor took one look at Jim’s ripped pajamas, Len’s bleeding face, and the blinking Sulu and Chekov before ordering them, “Return to your rooms immediately.”

He detained Jim, though, and Len won’t admit to attempting to hang around or saying “It’s not his fault, sir.”

Pike just stared without blinking (how unnerving), with a firm grip on Kirk’s arm. Then he told Len, “Go clean off your face, McCoy. And let me do my job.”

And Len won’t admit to giving in because Jim said, with that grin of his, “It’s okay, Bones.”

Leonard is snapped out of his mulling of this morning’s catastrophe by a sharp rap on his door. (Doors here are never fully closed, even at night, and they have no locks.) Before he can snarl at the intruder to back the Hell off, Uhura slinks in and is sitting next to him without so much as a by-your-leave. Her lovely sharp eyes are assessing the damage to his face (and probably his good looks).

He grimaces and asks, “Well? Do I pass?” As much as Len would love to tell this woman to keep her nose out of his business—and keep her distance too—he’s still a Southern gentleman at heart. That’s the last thing his mama asked of him, as she lay dying of cancer in the hospital. He wasn’t but seven years old and he still hasn’t forgotten that promise. (Though sometimes it’s hard to remember why he should keep it—the memory of her face is long-faded.)

“Poor Lenny,” she says and takes the wet towel from him. He flinches, not because she is patting the wound too hard, but because she is leaning into his personal space. What does this crazy woman want? If Len thought that swearing off women would do some good, he’d shout it from the fucking rooftop. But he can’t, ’cause Joce is still on his mind these days and if she were to walk through that door, he’d probably fall to his knees and beg her to take him back. (He’s pathetic, he knows this.)

Leonard gently pulls the towel from her and tells Uhura, as softly as he can, “Don’t do that, darlin’. I’m a grown man, and I can take care of myself. Promise.”

Her next words are strange. “Are you depressed?”

Len blinks. He recalls Jim’s babbling and feels he has to clarify a few things. “Hon, I’m fine.”

“Oh.” Why are her eyes slit like that?

After a brief silence, in which Leonard feels entirely uncomfortable, he breaks it with “Are you depressed, Uhura?”

“Sure,” she shrugs.

She doesn’t look or act like it; Leonard would know.

“Okay,” he agrees. Better not to tangle with this one. She’s off—and it’s starting to make the hairs on the back of his neck tingle.

“Are you calling me a liar, Leonard?”

“No—”

“Did someone talk to you about me? Who?” Oh Lord, she’s getting worked up. Leonard’s body coils in anticipation. Uhura’s eyes are lit now; they burn. “Who was it? The Captain, right?”

“Look, Nyota,” he tries using her first name.

She jumps up from the bed and starts pacing. “I bet the whole crew talks about me! I bet they—they’re—” She doesn’t seem to know what she wants to accuse her floor-mates of, and when Leonard notices her nails (why is she allowed to keep them so long?) start to dig into her palms, he eases from the bed with his hands out.

“C’mere, Nyota.”

“No!”

“C’mon, come right over here, and I’ll tell you what they’re saying about you.”

Her eyes are dark with suspicion but she cannot resist his tempting offer. Uhura stands stiffly but close enough that Leonard can reach out and work one of his hands between her own. “Who’s been talking about me, Leonard?”

He takes a chance. “Why, everyone.” He ignores her hiss to continue in hopes of easing the building explosion. “I’ve only heard good things about you, Nyota. Did you know that Scotty tells Keenser how gorgeous you are?”

A woman’s vanity is often her weakness; at least, if Jocelyn was any indication of standard female behavior. Uhura’s hands relax a little. She says, “Mr. Scott is a man of good taste.”

Yeah, if you discount the fact that he does the most horrible imitation of a Scotsman Len has seen to date and keeps company with invisible people. But Leonard knows better than to say that. Rather, he adds, “And Chekov loves that you can speak Russian. It makes him feel better, not so lonely.” Damn, if he isn’t making this shit up but she seems to believe him well enough.

Her eyes are softening, thank the Lord. Leonard leads her back to the bed and settles her on the edge. Uhura licks her lips and asks cautiously, “What does Spock think?”

Spock? Oh, crap. What can an emotionless Vulcan feel? “Well, you know how he is,” Len hedges. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because her mouth shapes into a frown.

“What I know is that he’s a cold bastard and that he keeps things from me! Even when—”

“Now, wait a minute, Uhura. Spock isn’t exactly… cold—” Leonard sighs. “He’s an alien. He’s just different and he cannot really connect with us like one human to another.” He holds up their joined hands. “Not like this, you understand?” Where the Hell is this coming from? Leonard ought to be on her side, but for some reason, after listening to Spock chatter on and off, or go silent for two days, or build his little toys makes him… well, Leonard’s roommate. Oh God, Len realizes, he doesn’t hate the guy. (He’ll have to berate himself later.)

“I guess—you’re right, Len. Can I call you Len?” He nods. Uhura adds a bit of sniff (it’s so fake, Leonard wants to roll his eyes). “I suppose that’s why we didn’t work out.”

That gives the man pause. “You… and Spock?”

She smiles, so suddenly, it blind-sides him. “Oh, you know. When he first arrived. I usually—” Leonard doesn’t whimper, because if she’s implying that she hooks up with all the newcomers then he is going to have to find a way to decline without fear of getting his eyes gouged out.

He decides to jump right in. “Darlin’, if that’s why you’ve been hanging around me, I hate to—”

“Oh, you won’t have to worry, Leonard. I see the way you look at the Captain.”

“—disappoint…” The rest trails off as he stares at her dumbly. “Excuse me?”

“You know, that hang-dog look. It’s alright. I should have realized it the first time Spock started looking at him that way but now—”

“Whoa! Back it up, Uhura!” Leonard comes to his feet. “I am NOT pining after that no-good, bubble-headed blond…” Oh shit. He’s picturing the blond hair now and it’s almost honey like Joce’s. Oh shit oh shitohshit… He squeezes his eyes shut in hopes of blocking out the image.

“It’s okay, Len,” Uhura is trying to soothe him instead. (How fucked up are they?) “When the Captain came back, even someone like Spock wasn’t immune to his charms.”

Like he doesn’t know that. Like Leonard doesn’t have to shove his one sad pillow over his ears and eyes in the middle of the God-damn night when Jim comes visiting his lover. Like the room doesn’t stink of sex long afterwards, or he doesn’t notice how Jim always leans over him, a shadow of a man in the dark, just before the Captain goes back down the hall.

It’s… insane. This is all fucking INSANE, and Leonard is not into men—okay well, maybe he always has been, but Jocelyn hooked him six years ago and still has him hooked. And Leonard McCoy is monogamous. He isn’t up for playing round-robin up and down the corridors of a shitty institution and certainly isn’t some call-boy for Jim—or, Lord forbid, another notch on the man’s belt.

He’s not, and he won’t, and—

“Leonard!” Uhura snaps her fingers in front of his face. But it’s not just Uhura, Spock is there—always one for silent creepy entrances that have given Leonard too many damn near-heart-attacks in the past month. (Wow, he’s only been here a month. It seems like ages, putting up with these fool people.)

“Doctor, do you require assistance?”

Leonard suppresses the giggle building in his throat because if he lets it go, Spock will surely contact the nearest orderly for “assistance.” Yeah, and have the doctor out on his ass and probably rooming with Scotty and Keenser in a heartbeat. For a crazy guy, Spock sure doesn’t tolerate any craziness from others. (Except Jim, but Len won’t think about those implications now; he’s in no shape to.)

“Nyota, I will care for the Doctor.”

Leonard ignores both of them—especially Uhura’s arguing—and slides back onto his bed to curl up as close to the wall as possible. Unfortunately, he needs more than just this short blanket, if he’s going to hide. Maybe Spock will lend him—

A weight settles on his bed, and it’s not light either. (God, Joce was so dainty for such a firecracker of a woman.) “Go ‘way, you blasted Vulcan!”

The weight doesn’t lift because Leonard has failed to put the fear of God into Spock. ‘Course, Spock would just say that Vulcans have their own religion. Eventually, the man—Vulcan—comes to some sort of decision, or finishes composing his speech in that massively annoying brain of his.

“Doctor—”

“I’m not a doctor,” Leonard breaks in.

“You completed your training in the medical field.”

Leonard sits up. “I didn’t finish my last year of residency.” ‘Cause my life turned to shit, he doesn’t say. But he doesn’t need to, apparently. There is a strange look in Spock’s eyes. If he weren’t so… Vulcan, McCoy would assume it was sympathy. “That’s not the point. How did you know I wasn’t lying?”

“The Captain,” Spock answers simply.

Jim knows? What the Hell! “And how does our Jim-boy know anything beyond these concrete walls, Spock?”

“He inquired after you to Admiral Pike.”

That Pike’s an Admiral is something Len files away to address later. (In person, probably, with the Admiral himself.) “Well it seems to me that Jimmy avoids Pike like the plague.”

“On the contrary, Doctor, Pike is Jim’s godfather.”

Brain melt-down. Huh? Just… what the fuck? Jim and Pike are… How Goddamn shit-ass crazy is this place? “No,” Leonard denies.

“You are incorrect.”

“Damn it, Spock! Don’t fool around here! I already can’t believe half the stuff that comes out of ya’ll’s mouths.” No response. He switches tactics. “How can you just sit there so, so fucking calm all the time!”

Spock raises his eyebrow. He raises his eyebrow which is not cool because that is something Leonard—AND NO ONE ELSE—can do. Later, McCoy will decide that he cemented his place at Fleet Heights because of one stupid, irrational reaction: he reaches out and slaps his hand over Spock’s eyebrow (and half of his forehead).

The man (Vulcan, Goddamn it, okay?) jerks back at the contact of skin-to-skin with shock etched into his normally stoic face. Leonard’s wrist is taken in such a hard grip, it starts aching.

Spock breathes harshly, like he’s run a mile in under a minute. “Remove—your—hand.”

McCoy blinks, realizes he’s touching a touch-telepath (or someone who pretends he is). He looks at his hand, at its betrayal, and wonders if Spock is going to have an episode.

Suddenly, Leonard doesn’t give a flying fuck. Not one tiny bit. He’s damn tired of putting up with walking on eggshells around this lunatic. Spock’s sensitive? Well, boo-fucking-hoo!

He meets Spock’s wide eyes and says, succinctly, “Hell no.”

“Remove your hand at once!”

“Or what, Spock? Gonna fly into one of your fits? How about we give ’em a proper name… like I don’t know, a Vulcan rage? Fitting, ain’t it?”

“Doctor, at once…”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m touching you? Well tough shit, man.”

“I—I—”

“Hmm? Can’t hear you there for the stuttering, Spock.”

“You are hi—highly il—illogical.”

“Damn fucking straight. I’m as illogical as they come, and you’re just gonna have to make like a nice Vulcan and cope with it.” At those words, Leonard lets Spock slide his hand away. Spock drops it like it’s hot and stares at it.

Leonard ignores the urge to ask what’s wrong with his hand, so he does the only sensible thing to snap Spock from his stupor. He pokes him in the chest. Hard.

Spock blinks, raises his head to look at Leonard. Only his expression… why does Len feel like he’s under a microscope for study?

“Fascinating.”

Fascinating? God, they’re both crazy. Leonard puts on his biggest scowl and demands, “Get off my bed, you green-blooded elf—No! Put it down, Spock, or we’re gonna have a repeat of unpleasant contact, you hear me?”

Spock lowers his half-ascended eyebrow. “Satisfactory, Doctor?”

“When you get back to your side of the room, yeah, it will be.”

Spock rises from Leonard’s bed, clasping his hands behind his back. When he doesn’t move any farther away, Leonard opts for going back to his original position. Why can’t Fleet Heights at least have regular blankets? He pulls the sad piece of cloth up to his shoulder and rolls away from prying eyes.

After a minute or so, Spock finally decides to stop staring at his back, but not before he says, calm as ever, “I did not find our contact unpleasant, Leonard.”

Oh, isn’t that just fantastic?

“I’m going to sleep now.”

“Very well.”

“And if that boyfriend of yours pops in for a ride, take him down the hall. I need a—break.” He almost said sanity break, but they’re past those, aren’t they?

“The Captain is not my… boyfriend, Doctor. He is my bondmate.”

What’s the difference? “Fine, your husband. Just keep him outta the room tonight.”

As Leonard is actually about to doze off, his mind finally settling down (numb), he hears Spock say, out of the darkness, “Jim’s desire to copulate in this room is… new. I suspect that it has little to do with accommodation and is more relevant in regards to your arrival.”

Once his brain slowly processes those words, Leonard has no choice but to lie awake long into the night.

Next Part

Related Posts:

• A World of Crazy (10/10) – from August 25, 2010
• A World of Crazy (9/10) – from August 24, 2010
• A World of Crazy (8/10) – from August 23, 2010
• A World of Crazy (7/10) – from August 22, 2010
• A World of Crazy (6/?) – from August 21, 2010