Title: The Easy Choice
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Disclaimer: Do not own, sadly.
Summary: One-shot; being a superior officer is of no use at all when it comes to some things.
“Why is my name last? If we’re going by the alphabet, it should be in the middle.”
“Which alphabet do you suggest we use, Doctor?”
“Damn it, you hobgoblin, Standard, of course!”
“Then the placement of your name is correct.”
Leonard McCoy attempts to stare down the annoying Vulcan. Spock meets his look and McCoy knows that the Vulcan can outlast him. (Which is ridiculous, if you ask Leonard. Absolutely ridiculous.) So he settles for saying, “We’ll discuss this with Jim.”
“The Captain is currently occupied in the matter of… selecting the decorative colors for the event.”
“Well, I’m sure Jim-boy can stop for just a—”
“With Lieutenant Uhura,” Spock tacks on.
Leonard scowls. That’s Spock’s way of saying yeah, go find him if you dare. He knows that Leonard is terrified of being cornered by Uhura. Who knew the woman was so fanatical over this kind of thing? He remembers the day she dragged him down to the mess hall to taste replicated cake. The torture—the day—couldn’t end fast enough. (And he ate twelve different pieces of cake; had bad heartburn.)
“I don’t like it, Spock.”
The Vulcan hesitates. “It is Terran tradition—”
McCoy throws up his hands. “Let me tell you, it’s certainly NOT traditional for three males to get married, Spock.” The way he drawls out the word sounds something akin to may-red. “The thing looks stupid… ‘request the honour of your presence to the Kirk-Spock-McCoy union…’ I swear to God, it sounds like we’re having an orgy. This has to be Jim’s doing.”
Spock’s eyebrow indicates his opinion on Leonard’s griping. “Were the invitation to read Kirk-McCoy-Spock, Doctor, I doubt this choice of hyphenation will negate, as you claim, ‘how it sounds.'”
Just before he can outline exactly where Spock can stick that Vulcan name, the door to his office slides open to reveal a wide-eyed, pale Kirk. Leonard is reaching automatically for his tricorder when the Captain blurts out, “Hide me!”
He slams the desk drawer back into place.
“Jim, don’t be—”
“Captain?” They all hear it, those sweet lilts.
He scoots his chair back and barks, “Under the desk!”
Jim doesn’t need to be told twice. He bends into the most awkward ball imaginable and has an arm around one of Leonard’s leg like he expects to be pried from his hidey-hole by a pincher-pronged robot. A big one.
The door slides open, again, this time to reveal Lieutenant Nyota Uhura and Yeoman Janice Rand—separate, equally terrifying; as a unit, a force of horror which will send the nearest man running out of an airlock. Combine that with wedding planning, and Leonard wonders if there’s room to squeeze in beside Jim. Maybe if they…
“Good morning, Len. We’ve lost the Captain.”
“Did you?” he asks mildly, feeling sweat gathering on his forehead.
Uhura smiles, but her eyes are narrow with suspicion. “Yes, we were in the middle of discussing the scrollwork on the cake when he said he needed a bathroom break.” Her lips twitch. “I doubt that that takes twenty minutes.”
Rand adds, “He was seen heading towards Sickbay.” Probably at a run but Rand won’t embarrass her Captain by saying so. (She’s a loyal gal, if a scary one.)
Oh yes. Leonard McCoy has no doubt that these two have an extensive network of spies on this ship.
Uhura turns her eyes to Spock. “Spock.” Leonard is in a good position to see the Vulcan tighten his clasped hands—which means that even Spock has enough sense to be wary of this twosome. “Where’s the Captain?”
Shit. He opens his mouth to rescue the I-cannot-lie Vulcan before they all end up on color-picking duty when Jim practically bites his leg. His words turn into a yelp and a loud curse.
Uhura and Rand zero in on him and he kicks his leg as surreptiously as possible. The quiet smack and hushed ow! are a satisfying combination. “Sorry,” he apologizes to the ladies, “pinched my finger.” And sticks his finger in his mouth for show. That his desk has a lack of objects within range of his hands is incriminating, but he hopes neither woman will notice. (Prays.)
Spock interrupts before Rand decides to come over and take a closer look at Leonard’s poor finger—that is, his lying self. “The Captain has an appointment with the Chief Engineer in five point two minutes.”
Rand nods. “He does,” she says to Uhura.
Uhura does not look convinced though she says “I guess we’ll check with Mr. Scott.”
Thank the sweet Lord, Leonard thinks.
Then Spock (why oh why?) opens his mouth and delays the women’s departure by stating, “Doctor McCoy is unhappy with the wording of the invitations.”
God-damn it! God-damn that sneaky Vulcan! “It’s fine,” Leonard says quickly, suppressing the urge to kill Spock with a glare, as Uhura and Rand turn to look at him. “No, really. Absolutely fantastic job you ladies did!”
He takes a moment to slump over his desk, ignoring the bleating “Are they gone yet?” from the vicinity of his boots. Then Leonard straightens up, pushes back his chair to peer down at the Captain.
“I want you to demote Spock.”
Jim is painstakingly trying to straighten out his limbs. “What?”
“He’s too connivin’ to be your First Officer. Before you know it, we’ll be Spock-Kirk-McCoy without the Kirk-McCoy!”
Jim makes a pathetic noise as he wobbles to his feet and pops his back. And he’s not paying attention to Leonard at all. McCoy points a finger over the man’s shoulder at the Vulcan, who is running his hands down Jim’s back like he can soothe away the knots and little hurts. “Quite distracting him!”
Spock’s eyes are gleaming as he replies, “I am merely assisting our Captain, Doctor.”
Jim blinks between them. “Whatever it is, forget it, okay? We have more important battles to fight.”
The doctor turns his glare onto the blond-headed fool. “And what would those be, Jim?”
Kirk’s face is deadly serious. He replies, “Catering. Do you want peach cobbler on the menu?”
“Well now that you—”
“Rand’s controlling the list.”
He keeps going. “No Vulcan robes, Spock, unless you can convince Uhura out of her craze for gold tuxedos. Then there’s music—the pipes of Omesis or the finger cymbals favored by Orions? Chair arrangements, song choices, speeches and, shit, the guest list!” Jim bangs his fist on McCoy’s desk. “No, I don’t want Klingons at my wedding! What the Hell? Who cares about Chancellor—”
Leonard gets up and cradles Jim’s hand before he can abuse the desk again. “Shush, darlin’. We get the point.”
Jim whimpers. Spock’s hands are braced on Kirk’s shoulders.
Leonard looks at them both. “This is why I said we ought to elope.”
“And have them mad at us AND planning the post-elopement party?” Kirk’s smile is rueful and frightened at the same time.
Spock remarks, “Indeed, such a course of action would have… unpleasant consequences.”
Leonard sighs. Considers their position. Grins. “At least we get to decide on the honeymoon.”
The answering grin on Jim’s face and the amused (loveable) twinkling of Spock’s dark eyes is worth every agonizing day of wedding planning-tyranny in store for Leonard McCoy.
He snaps from his momentary zoning-out to find hands ghosting over his jaw. Jim is leaning in, saying, “I think you bruised me with that fidgety leg of yours, Bones.” The Captain’s tunic is inching up as he talks. “Gonna need you to take a look at it.”
Leonard rolls his eyes. “Jim, for God’s sake, keep your clothes on. It’s the middle of Beta shift.” But he knows by now that there is no use in arguing with Kirk—which is probably why he engages in an extra share of arguments with Spock. Speaking of the pointy-eared devil, Spock is sliding past him and Jim, to the CMO’s desk.
“Second drawer on the left, Spock,” he says and then directs the computer to engage locks on the office door.
How’s that old saying go?
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.