Title: What’s Yours is Mine
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Disclaimer: Woo, definitely don’t own ’em.
Summary: Three different drabbles on sharing between partners.
More distraction. :P
“Okay, this just does not work on me.”
“You sure, Jim? The color matches your eyes.”
The Captain turns around to bat his eyelashes at his CMO. “Tell me I’m pretty, Bonesie.”
“Give me my shirt back. I have to go to work.”
“I don’t know… You’re right. Blue does look good on me.”
“Fine.” Leonard pulls on his pants, a pair of boots and ambles out the Captain’s quarters. Jim quits admiring himself in McCoy’s medical tunic as soon as he catches the tail-end “… see ya!” and Bones slides out of the door, all naked chest and still partly wet from his shower.
Kirk is after him in a dash, manages to catch the doctor’s arm before he can walk into the turbolift full of oogling stares and dropped-jaws (and no small amount of drooling). “Bones, what the Hell are you doing?”
Leonard rocks back on his heels, hands in pockets. “Going to get another shirt, seeing as how you’re wearing mine.”
Jim goes red, realizing that McCoy isn’t the only one getting stares. He twitches under the perceived scrutiny and drags McCoy back down the hall. Unfortunately, Spock comes around the corner at the other end of the corridor and reaches the Captain’s quarters before they do. He stands, watching them both, until they arrive an arm’s length away.
“Hey there, Spock,” McCoy greets him with a large, teeth-baring grin.
“Doctor,” the Vulcan acknowledges. His eyes pause on the other man (probably the blue shirt). “Captain.”
Jim punches in his code and hauls both of them inside—and away from the curious engineer leaning half-in, half-out of the open paneled wall in which he had previously invested his interest. (Ship drama is much better, though; everyone knows that.)
“Captain, has your attire been… destroyed by the laundering unit?”
Spock blinks. “Are you incapable of locating a proper tunic?”
“No,” Jim grinds out as he pulls Bones’ shirt over his head. It gets stuck and he flails for a moment.
McCoy comes to the rescue with “Don’t rip it, you damn idiot! Here, let—quit twistin’, Goddamn it!” Leonard is finally able to separate man from shirt, and both officers are panting.
“Fascinating,” Spock observes.
McCoy looks at the shirt in his hands and scrunches up his nose. “I don’t want it now.” The offending blue tunic is tossed on the bed.
Jim crosses his arms and does an fairly decent impression of the doctor’s scowl. “I don’t have cooties, Bones.”
Leonard snorts. “If you did, I think both Spock and I would have ’em already, Jim.”
“I do not understand this term ‘cooties,'” the Vulcan interjects.
Jim turns bright eyes on his First Officer (and lover) but Leonard says, before Kirk can open his mouth, “Don’t worry about it, Spock. I’ll vaccinate you against it during the next round of physicals.”
Spock is watching the Captain snicker and it’s obvious he finds a severe discrepancy between the doctor’s promise and Jim’s reaction. But Spock is Vulcan enough to let the nonsense pass by without comment. (He’s grown used to certain strange behaviors of Humans.) Instead, he offers the advice, “To prevent any future recurrence, may I suggest that we each store two pairs of regulation attire in our partners’ quarters?”
“Sure,” Jim throws in his two cents quickly.
Leonard shrugs. “Fine, Spock. But be warned, that just means Jim’ll have more outfits to try on.”
Spock looks at Jim, who grins unabashedly. The Vulcan asks, slowly, “Is this behavior acceptable between mates?”
The doctor replies dryly, “Only if one’s more tolerant of the other’s foolishness.”
Spock thinks he understands. After all, he has two foolish Humans and his tolerance is gratifyingly abundant.
“Doctor, do you not have a sufficient amount of nutritional preserves on your plate?”
“Huh?” McCoy is paying only a pittance of attention to the Vulcan as he reads a PADD. His fork makes another venture onto Spock’s tray and absently plucks up a replicated treat.
Jim slides into a chair beside Spock and sighs with contentment. “Hey, Spock. Bones.”
Leonard’s eyes dart up at Jim, he grunts a greeting and peruses Jim’s plate before returning to his medical journal. Spock watches—intrigued—as that mysteriously sneaky fork eventually starts collecting items from Jim’s food tray as well. After ten minutes of this illogical (and strange) thievery, the Doctor puts down his reading material, checks his watch and heads back to Sickbay.
Spock turns to his other lover and stares at him.
Jim swallows the food in his mouth and looks curiously at Spock in return. He asks, “What?”
“Leonard exhibits… unusual table manners.”
Jim blinks at him and then at the Vulcan’s plate. “Oh. You had sweet potatoes. Bones loves sweet potatoes.”
“The Doctor could have requested a meal with the… sweet… potato.”
Jim’s look is full of amusement. “Spock,” he says slowly and carefully, as if explaining a natural phenomenon to a child. “Bones won’t want his own; he’ll want yours. Just do what I do, order another helping. That way you can both have it.”
“Practical and necessary. Trust me.” Jim finishes his meal and pats his First Officer on the shoulder. He tells Spock, as they depart the mess hall, “I’ll get you a list of his favorite foods. Next time you’ll know.”
Spock’s reply is lost as the doors slide closed behind them.
“On Vulcan, this behavior is acceptable.”
“Well, this isn’t Vulcan, Spock!” Leonard rages for a few minutes, until Jim walks into Sickbay.
“What’s going on?”
“Your—” Leonard sounds like a boiling tea keetle. “—hobgoblin of a First Officer is attempting to poison your Chief Medical Officer.”
Jim looks from Spock to Leonard and back. “Really?” His voice indicates disbelief.
“Jim!” McCoy stomps over to a table and reaches for an item. He plunks it into a startled Captain’s hand.
“It’s a cup.”
“It’s MY cup.”
“And Spock has been slobbering all in it.”
If the Vulcan were a cat, his hair would be standing on end with indignation. “Vulcans do not salivate in excess, Doctor.” Spock’s tone is frosty.
“That’s not the half of it.” McCoy rattles off a list of “personal items” that his Vulcan lover finds it acceptable to use. “…and I’m telling you, as a certified doctor—” Leonard glares at the Vulcan, who has a not-quite-glare on his face too. “—that contamination contributes to an estimated number of medical cases—” McCoy breaks off when Jim starts laughing.
“I-I’m sorry, Bones, but you’re being ridiculous.”
There is a thundercloud growing over the doctor’s face and it isn’t a pretty sight. Jim tries again. “Bones, really. You have sex with Spock. We both do. I’d say that definitely qualifies as interspecies contamination.”
Leonard’s arms cross and he fixes an unhappy eye on the Captain. “We take safety precautions.”
The other man leans against the CMO’s desk. “Yeah, in a messy sort of way.”
“Jim…” It’s a warning but one Kirk finds hilarious and nonthreatening after years of knowing Leonard McCoy.
“Bones…” he responds.
Spock interrupts their stare-down. “Doctor, if you would prefer not to exchange bodily fluids, then I shall restrict our contact.”
Leonard groans. “Don’t get all bent out of shape about this, Spock.”
The Vulcan says nothing.
Jim takes pity on Bones. He tells Spock, “He’s just a little OCD about germs, Spock, being a doctor and all.”
“Vulcan immune systems are well-fortified against common bacteria.”
“Well Humans aren’t so lucky,” the doctor mumbles. “Jim catches everything that comes down the pike.”
Spock does not appear placated in the least. Finally, Leonard sighs and Jim knows a defeat when he sees one. (At least, it isn’t his defeat.) McCoy says, “Fine, you win.” It’s a small start, really, but a beginning nonetheless. The Captain is positive that there will be more circumstances of give-and-takes (and tiffs) between the three partners as the relationship settles. It’s predictable… and a great comfort to a man who treasures true intimacy.