If I knew of any new stuff, I would totally report! I’m not very active in the fandom right now… exerpt from my ksvalentine that could be taken as pre-OT3? – "You know," Jim says slowly, "that could work." "You're kidding." McCoy stops in the middle of piling lab cultures into the incubator and looks back over his shoulder at Jim. "You're not kidding. Oh God." "No, no, think about it," Jim says. He's sitting on the edge of an unoccupied exam table, legs swinging freely, eyes narrowing as he thinks. "We'd have to go about it exactly right way, but that would totally work." "I was joking, Jim." McCoy rubs his temples, making a pained face. "And it was a stupid joke." Jim absently waves that away. "But how would we—? No, too obvious. Hmm." McCoy shakes his head and turns to finish his stacking. "Moreover, that joke got old a hundred years ago. Hell, it was old six months after first contact." "It's timeless," Jim argues, warming to his topic. "A classic. The problem is the delivery. There's no way he won't notice if I spike his soup with cocoa powder or try to slip him a Hershey's kiss." "Jim, you've tried every cockamamie thing under the sun," McCoy grumbles, slamming the hatch shut. "All of which were complete disasters, what makes you think—" "I thought the secret admirer thing was going just fine," Jim says defensively. "Normal secret admirers do not give their secret admirees fancy underwear and bright red silicone replicas of their penis, Jim!" "Stylish, yet daring," Jim says, like he's quoting from a catalogue, and McCoy jams his hands into his hair. "Did you miss the part where he stopped opening the packages and just tipped them right into the incinerator?" "Maybe too daring," Jim concedes. "Here's a bright idea! Why not try, I don't know, being direct about what you want? You sure as hell aren't shy." "I could be shy." McCoy snorts. "Even by Orion standards, you're not shy." "Whatever. We've been over this," Jim says, leaning forward. "If I go right up and ask him, I'll get a long, slow No that takes twenty minutes and an itemized list to explain in excruciating detail why pursing a relationship would be illogical. The only way this happens is if I can get him intrigued enough— or drunk enough— to give me a chance. Being direct is— is—" Suddenly his face transforms. "Bones! That's it!" "Oh, no," McCoy says, leveling a finger at him. "I know that look. That look means missing teeth and skin grafts." Jim jumps off the table. "That was one time, can you please just let it go and focus on this? I have a plan." "Of course you do," McCoy groans. "I can tell you now, my lab and sickbay are off-limits. No telling the hobgoblin that he's, I don't know, got a rare disease that can only be cured by immediate ingestion of xantheose." "That's actually not half-bad, Bones, I'm proud of you. But no." Jim's grin is wide and a shade wicked. "I won't have to hide the chocolate at all. It's Valentine's Day and half-shifts for everyone tomorrow, and the stuff's already all over the rec rooms. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect set-up. All it needs is a little… competition."