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When Jim Kirk blinked awake, the first word out of his mouth was “Bones?”

“Here,” Leonard answered, leaning into Jim’s line of sight. “How are you feeling?”

Jim grunted and tried to sit up, which Leonard immediately put a stop to.

“Take it easy, Jim. Your blood pressure is still a little low.”

“What—Spock.” Jim turned frantic eyes on him. “Where’s Spock?”

“In his own little cubicle, hooked up to more machines than you. Never you mind about him,” Leonard told his friend firmly. “He’ll live.”

But that only made Jim panic more. “I didn’t, we didn’t—Bones, how—”

Leonard pressed his mouth into a thin line for a moment. He had debated this with himself for the last few hours and not come to a decision. But looking at Jim, close to scared out of his mind, he knew he couldn’t say anything except the truth. “I took care of him, Jim.”

Jim didn’t immediately take to his meaning, just looked at the doctor. But when the implication finally dawned on Kirk, the man snapped into an upright position, his arm snaking out to latch onto the collar of Leonard’s shirt and drag him close.

The biomonitor gave an ominous beep.

Leonard covered Jim’s hand with his own, saying, “Hey, calm down.”

The whites of Jim’s eyes showed. “You…?”

“It’s all right. Everything’s fine.”

“Bones.“

The soft reassurances weren’t getting through to Jim. Leonard changed tactics. “Okay, it was terrible. I’m traumatized. I’ve already put in my resignation.”

Jim looked stricken.

Leonard huffed and gave the silly kid a light shake. “So, are you paying attention now? What did I say?”

“You’re leaving me.” Jim suddenly flushed and something flashed through his eyes. “No, you aren’t leaving me, Bones.”

Leonard stuck his face closer to Kirk’s and narrowed his eyes. “That’s right.”

Jim opened his mouth to argue, stopped when he realized Leonard had agreed with him, and shut his mouth with a nearly audible click of teeth.

Leonard pulled back with a smile. “Glad we finally understand each other. I really am fine, Jim, and so is Spock.”

Jim looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to frown or not. “Is he… himself?”

“More or less.”

Now Jim did frown. He tried to push back the covers to get out of the bed to, it seemed, go see exactly what his CMO meant. Leonard picked up the hypospray he’d hidden at the foot of the bed and lifted it for Kirk to see.

“Getting out that bed before your physician says you can will have its consequences, Captain.”

Jim eyed the hypospray with wariness. “You said ‘more or less’. What’s wrong with Spock?”

“Nothing physical as far as I can tell. His damn Vulcan healing powers have restored him to perfect health. Well, almost perfect health. Right now he’s a little weaker in strength than normal but I think that’s a good thing. Makes it easier to keep his stubborn hide in bed. We’re keeping him around for observation, and this time,” Leonard said with a bit of glee, “he can’t logic his way out of it, given the circumstances which put him here.”

Jim said nothing.

Leonard’s good humor faded, and he sighed a little. “As for anything that’s not physical, I don’t know. He won’t talk to me, Jim.”

“Why?”

“Can’t you guess?”

Jim glanced away. “…Because of us. Because of what he had to do with us.”

“No,” Leonard clarified after a moment. “Because of what he did with me.” There was a bitterness coloring his words that he couldn’t hold back. “He wanted you, Jim. And though Spock may have tried to pretend otherwise afterwards, he’d be glad he had his chance. But I’m the one thing I doubt he would ever have wished for, even on a death bed. So…” Leonard’s shrug was half-hearted.

Jim was looking at him again. “I don’t believe that, Bones.”

“How can you not believe the truth?” countered the doctor, voice without any real heat. It was his turn to glance away. “Look, rest for a little while and I’ll let you up later on to go visit him. I think if anyone has the ability to make him see there’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s you. And Spock needs that, Jim. He needs to know we don’t think of him as less. Tell him we all have to live with things about ourselves we don’t like, but those things don’t define the whole of us. Tell him it’s in every man’s power to learn how to live beyond them.”

Jim reached out and took his hand, a softness in his eyes. “You could tell him that yourself, Bones.”

“Yeah, I could, but he wouldn’t believe it comin’ from me.” Leonard raised their joined hands and pressed his mouth to Jim’s knuckles. “I know I don’t say it often enough, but I couldn’t imagine my life without you, darlin’. Thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

When he let Jim go, Jim followed. Strengthening his resolve, Leonard turned the tug forward into a hug, letting Jim’s kiss skim his cheek instead of his mouth.

Jim wasn’t aware of it yet but this was a goodbye for them and for what they had. There was no reason—no kind one, anyway—for Leonard to keep Jim from Spock.

Tears stung Leonard’s eyes. He hid his face in Jim’s hair because it was the only way to be certain Jim never discovered that he was crying.

~~~

Spock was released to active duty two days later. Jim left Sickbay the morning following that. Leonard could have kept them both longer but that wouldn’t have helped what needed to be mended. Jim was trying to breach a chasm Spock had forced between them and while he had a marginal success in the form of pestering a bored, bed-bound Vulcan into a game of chess, the medical bay wasn’t the proper environment to fix a strained relationship.

Well, Leonard thought, at another time it might have been the perfect place to do so—but not under current circumstances. These circumstances ensured that Leonard was the doctor overseeing the recovery of both officers.

Spock simply couldn’t stand the sight of him.

The truth of it hurt Leonard deeply. He knew he wasn’t in the wrong for what he did, and he was vaguely certain Spock knew that too. It did not prevent, however, the Vulcan from retreating behind a wall of silence when Leonard stepped near him. The closest they came to having an actual conversation was when Spock focused his attention on M’Benga and asked, “What were the injuries of my… partners?”

M’Benga had cleared his throat and, at Leonard’s nod of approval, handed over the report of Jim’s physical examination and subsequent diagnosis. Spock had read it through, his face giving nothing away, and returned it to M’Benga with a polite thank you.

After M’Benga had excused himself and Leonard was on the verge of following Geoff out the door, Spock had turned his head slightly in Leonard’s direction, which had frozen the man where he stood.

“And your injuries?” the Vulcan had inquired very softly of the air, a question clearly meant for Leonard.

“A little tenderness in some areas, a few marks on the skin. Nothing that couldn’t be immediately fixed. I was with you for far less time than Jim. That’s why I’m up and about and he isn’t.” The doctor paused before asking, “Do you want to see my chart?”

“No, that will not be necessary. Thank you for your report, Lieutenant-Commander.”

No ‘Doctor’. He was an subordinate speaking to a superior, not a friend reassuring another friend.

Leonard had had to exit swiftly before he threw something at that insufferable Vulcan head.

Now with Jim and Spock out of Sickbay and all of them free to lick their wounds in private, he had no reason to keep up his facade. It was with the weight of depression that he locked himself in his office and uncapped a bottle of bourbon.

But Leonard couldn’t seem to lift the pungent drink to his mouth. He stared morosely into his glass tumbler instead, completely at a loss.

Should he be satisfied that Spock can’t look him in the eyes anymore? Should he hope the Vulcan will get over it so they can work together without any lingering awkwardness?

Leonard wanted neither of those things. In all honesty, he wanted Spock to look him in the eyes and remember every detail. He wanted Spock to revel in what they did.

Because he couldn’t forget it. No matter how hard he tried or how much he chastised himself for his thoughts, he recalled the taste, texture, and smell of being with Spock. The sex had been rougher than he liked it, and the heady mix of fear and excitement had made him feel kind of nauseous on occasion, but there were good moments to remember too. In a way, as the plak tow had receded, the Vulcan had acted more like Leonard imagined Spock would as a lover: being curious and thorough, taking the time to satisfy them both, letting Leonard slow the pace once and a while.

Those memories made him want more, and knowing he wanted more made Leonard hate himself.

The real Spock did not desire him as a lover. The real Spock had given his trust and his heart to Jim and had woken up in bed with a completely different person.

A taint.

That’s what Leonard was to Spock.

He couldn’t say he blamed Spock for not talking to him.

Leonard sighed and decided to have his drink after all. The bourbon went down fiery smooth, but then it turned sour in his stomach. Luckily, though, he made it in time to his private bathroom to throw the liquor up.

~~~

A door chimed.

Leonard groaned and muttered, or rather slurred, “Go away.“

The door to his quarters chimed again, this time with more insistence.

The man cursed and flopped an arm on his bed. He didn’t have the energy to peel his sweat-sticky forehead off his damn pillow. There was no way he was going to make it across the room to get the fucking door! The bastard had better just go away and let him die in peace.

Said bastard did no such thing.

“Bones? Bones!”

Lights came on in his sleeping cabin. Leonard made a sound like a whimper and curled under a crumpled bed sheet. It did little to block out the hideous light.

A hand tugged at the sheet. Leonard hissed.

Suddenly the room plunged back into darkness. A weight created a dip in part of the mattress.

“Bones?” Jim whispered from the other side of the sheet.

Jim wouldn’t leave until Leonard answered him—unless, of course, Jim thought Leonard was too sick to answer him. Then they’d both be heading straight for Sickbay.

That was the last place Leonard wanted to be.

“Migraine,” he muttered gruffly.

“What do you need?” Jim kept his voice to a soft tone. “Did you take painkillers?”

“No effect.” Leonard briefly focused on deep breaths to subdue his queasiness. “Shitty bourbon. Triggered it.”

For some reason, Jim fell silent for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice sounded strange. “Bourbon gives me migraines.”

Well, Leonard wasn’t Jim. What the fuck did that have to do with anything?

“Stay here,” ordered his friend.

Leonard would have laughed if he wasn’t dying. Where the hell was he gonna go when he was afraid to twitch a pinkie?

Jim was gone for a while. Leonard didn’t know for how long. He had lost the ability to track time since he crawled into his bed a day ago.

Gradually he became aware of voices, low and intent, somewhere in the recesses of his quarters. They could have been speaking a foreign language for all that he could decipher what they were saying. When Jim returned to hunker beside his bed (Leonard had managed to inch the sheet down to his nose so he could squint through his pain to see the kid’s face), Leonard wanted to know, “Who’d you bring?”

“Spock,” Jim answered.

Leonard really thought he might puke after all. Of all the people who could possibly comfort and/or help him in his last moments of life…

“Your ideas suck, Jimmy,” he accused in a harsh whisper.

“Not this one.” Jim leaned in carefully without jostling the bed. “Bones, you don’t get migraines. I do. Especially if I drink bourbon. Remember the morning of my second-year physics final? We’d shared a bottle of Kentucky Blue the night before.”

“You were gonna die. You said so. I saved you,” Leonard muttered, taking a moment to feel immensely proud of himself. It was the first time he’d come up with a fairly successful migraine treatment for Jim, who up until then had suffered through them with time as his only relief. Jim’s body had a weird reaction to most medications. Leonard spent half his time inventing new cocktails Jim could tolerate.

Boy, wasn’t that fun?

Leonard realized fuzzily his thoughts had gotten off-track. When he pried open his eyes (who’d closed them? him?), he found himself face-to-face with a stoic Vulcan instead of a blue-eyed Kirk.

Whose hand, Leonard discovered, was plastered to the side of his face.

Leonard immediately tried to get away, but he didn’t succeed because Jim was holding onto him from behind.

“W-What…?” His throat mangled any attempt at words so Leonard thought as fiercely as he could instead at the interloper in his head. What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Spock!

Your mind is confused, Doctor.

The hell it is! Get your grubby Vulcan fingers off my face!

There is no need for aggression. I am attempting to help you.

There’s nothing wrong with me but a damn migraine, he snarled.

On the contrary, Spock responded coolly, the migraine was a product of your confusion.

Clearly Spock was the one who was confused. Leonard elbowed Jim in the stomach to make the idiot let him go. What did these two fools think they were up to?

Jim snaked an arm across Leonard’s chest to secure him more tightly, saying, “I can’t let you go just yet, Bones. Spock?”

“Almost done, Captain. I am implementing a barrier, if you will, to segregate the misinformation. The migraine has already dispersed.”

Leonard absorbed that explanation without understanding most of it, except the last part. He realized with a start that his migraine was gone.

“How’d you get rid of it?” he asked, forgetting there wasn’t a need to verbalize his thoughts to Spock.

“Grant me a moment, Doctor. Then I will explain.”

Leonard fell silent and found himself relaxing back into Kirk. True to his word, Spock’s presence in his mind faded not long after. The Vulcan removed his hand from Leonard’s face.

Jim sat up in the bed, pulling Leonard along with him and ordering the room’s lights to fifty percent. Instinctively the doctor cringed, expecting the light to fry his brain.

It didn’t.

He blinked and said, “Huh.”

“You okay, Bones?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. That…” He looked at Spock, “…was really weird. Also, I’m not keen on you poking in my head whenever it pleases you, Spock.”

Spock didn’t give him some smart-alleck reply, or even try to excuse his actions. The Vulcan dropped his eyes and stood up, locking his hands behind his back as he did so.

Leonard felt bad for him all of a sudden. “Sorry,” he said, “I know you had a good reason. And thanks for… whatever it is you did to help me. That migraine was pretty bad.”

“It shouldn’t have been,” Jim interrupted. “You shouldn’t have had it in the first place. Am I right, Spock?”

“While I doubt Doctor McCoy is immune to such a condition, it is true that this particular migraine should not have occurred.”

“What?”

Spock studied them with a flat gaze. “I must apologize to you both. I am responsible.”

“What?” Leonard repeated, alarmed.

“The melding during the pon farr,” Jim guessed with gentleness. “I don’t see how that’s your fault, Spock.”

Spock held his captain’s eyes. “Jim, I also joined with Doctor McCoy.”

“I—okay, I didn’t know that, but it makes sense that you would have. What I don’t understand is why that means Bones is getting my migraines.”

“They are not your migraines, precisely. The sensitivity belongs to you. When I—” Spock paused before continuing. “During our mind meld, Jim, it is likely I took an impression of your mind so as to determine its compatibility with my own.” At Jim’s quick inhalation, Spock assured him, “The impression embodies only the pattern of your mind: how your thoughts shape themselves and the reactions of your synapses. Your memories, the content of your thoughts, your most private emotions, like fear or affection—unless these things are shared with me, I would not know them.” The Vulcan regarded Leonard. “I believe there has been an… unfortunate cross-contamination of the impressions I received from the Captain and yourself. Your mind was closely tied to mine—and thereby to Jim’s.”

Leonard shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was being told. “You’re talking about brain chemistry, Spock, not just metaphysics. It just doesn’t seem possible to alter it like that.”

“The brain still remains the most mysterious of organs, Doctor. What we understand about it is not all there is to know. However I would submit that there exists a plethora of scientific, as well as medical, case studies which prove the brain can be ‘taught’. Therefore it is not improbable that exposure to another mind may affect the way your own mind functions.”

Leonard barely resisted the urge to grab his head with both hands. “There’s no way I’m gonna start thinking like Jim!”

Next to him, Jim chuckled. “I think I should be offended by that, Bones. My way of thinking happens to be the best there is.”

“Said like a regular megalomaniac, kid. Spock, please tell me I won’t be diving headfirst off cliffs anytime soon in an attempt to fly.”

“Hey!” argued Jim. “When did I ever—!”

“The planet of X’anthu,” Spock and McCoy replied at the same time.

“…Heh. I’d forgotten about that. They did give me wings.”

“Not real ones, Jim, and certainly not ones big enough for a full-grown man to fly with. I swear…”

“Doctor, now is not the time to divert on one of your tangents.”

“Oh, shut up, Spock,” said Leonard, feeling only a little miffed. “You’re not the one who had to scrape him off the bottom of the cliff.”

“You exaggerate the events. The cliff was four point two meters high, and do not forget I am the one the Captain landed on.”

Leonard snickered.

“As fun as it always is listening to you two, I think Spock’s right about keeping on topic. Do we need to worry about anything else related to the mind melds, Spock?”

That Spock became silent again made Leonard’s nervousness return. “There is something else, isn’t there? What is it? Am… oh god, am I gonna start acting like a Vulcan?”

“Nothing so dramatic. You may, unfortunately, feel uncomfortable in my presence for several weeks. Captain, this applies to you as well.”

“Really?” Jim said, and he sounded surprised to hear that.

Spock inclined his head slightly. “When in close proxy to one another, it may seem as though I am privy to your thoughts, but I assure you I will not be. In time, the sensation will fade.”

“What about how you’ll feel?” Leonard questioned. “We’re psy-null compared to you. Does that mean we can’t affect you in the same way?”

“That answer is… complex, Doctor, and not one I am certain I could accurately relay to you.”

Crossing his arms, Leonard translated, “You mean you’re uncomfortable telling us. How amazingly ironic, Spock.”

“My work performance will not be affected.” To Jim, Spock said this.

The doctor snorted and looked at Jim, leaving the pursuit of the elusive answer up to him. Jim’s shoulders rose and fell in a quiet sigh.

“If it’s not a threat to you, Bones, or this ship, I can’t order you to say anything, Commander. And since Bones gave you a clean bill of health…” Kirk trailed off and shrugged again, climbing off the bed and rubbing the palms of his hands against the fabric of his pants. “I need to check in with the Bridge. Are you headed to Sickbay now, Bones?”

“Yeah, after a quick shower and change of clothes. I want to check myself over. No offence, Spock, but it’ll ease my mind.”

“Understood.” Without another word, the Vulcan moved away from the bed as Jim had. The stiffness in his gait could have been due to anything, but Leonard worried it meant he and Spock were back to square one.

“Spock!”

Spock turned back as Jim disappeared into the next room. “Doctor McCoy?”

“You’re…” going to keep pretending I don’t exist? “…still going to your check-ups with Dr. M’Benga?”

“Affirmative.”

“Okay.” Leonard sagged in place a little. “Good to hear.”

Spock faced in the direction in which Jim had gone but did not move right away. “I will return to duty now. If… Please contact me if you experience any symptoms you believe may be connected to the events surrounding my illness.”

“All right, I will.”

Spock left with Leonard staring at his back and feeling so very glad the Vulcan couldn’t see the stark relief on his face.

~~~

Leonard wasn’t surprised to find the Captain and the First Officer sharing a meal together in the Officer’s Mess a week later. Jim spotted him almost immediately but at the inviting smile Leonard shook his head slightly and carried his tray to a table hosting some of his medical staff.

The women and men blinked stupidly at his arrival.

Leonard sat down with a thump. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away from me for a whole hour, did you?”

Two nurses laughed, and the uncertain atmosphere around the table eased. One of his lab techs asked if he was going to eat all of his collard greens. Leonard brandished his fork with a menacing air. “Asking a Southern boy to share his collard greens is like asking a miser to loosen his purse strings.”

“In other words, not a chance in hell,” the young man quipped.

Leonard patted the tech’s shoulder. “You’re learning, kid.” Then he turned his attention to his meal.

If he occasionally tried to glance over a few heads to see how Jim and Spock were getting on, no one made mention of his preoccupation.

~~~

Jim and Spock had started sleeping together. Leonard felt pretty certain of that. The chemistry which sparked between them wasn’t nearly so subtle now. Jim touched Spock more, the contact lingering like he used to do with Leonard; and Spock never tensed or brushed Jim’s hands aside. Sometimes, with the ship hustling and bustling about them, Kirk and Spock would be standing incredibly still, just looking at each other. They were talking without words, he supposed.

Something so intimate was only done between lovers. Spock would have shown Jim how.

On one hand, Leonard was glad for them; on the other, it made him feel like a third wheel, although technically he had removed himself from their little social group as much as possible in the past two weeks. He could have wallowed in the feeling for a while, but there was no point in living in misery. So Leonard chose to go on about his daily life like he wasn’t lonely when he crawled into his bed by himself. For the most part, his new mindset worked.

Until, that is, the night Jim walked into his bedroom shedding clothes.

A corked bottle of brandy slipped through Leonard’s fingers and hit the floor but without breaking. It rolled away under a chair.

“Jim…” Leonard struggled for words. “What are you doing?”

“Do you hate me, Bones?”

“No, but I am beginning to question your sanity.”

Jim sat down on the edge of Leonard’s unmade bed. “I want to stay with you tonight.”

Leonard swallowed hard and tore his eyes away from Kirk’s naked form. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jim.”

“Why not?”

After pushing his empty snifter aside, the doctor ran a hand through his hair and noisily pushed the air out of his lungs. “Because you’re with Spock.”

No instant denial came. Leonard clenched his hands into fists so they wouldn’t visibly shake. He cut his eyes at Jim.

It seemed that Jim had been waiting for the moment their eyes met to speak. “Spock knows I’m here.”

Leonard’s eyebrows shot up at that bold statement. “And he’s okay with it?”

“I want to stay with you,” repeated Kirk, who drew in a deep breath. “No sex. Just… let me sleep here?”

Leonard’s teeth sank into his bottom lip. Could he do that? Hell, he wanted to. With a sudden, fierce ache he knew he truly wanted to. “Just for tonight,” he stipulated.

The tension in Jim’s face melted away. “Thanks.” Jim shuffled backwards and claimed one side of the bed.

Leonard laid down beside him, hoping his body didn’t do something stupid like become aroused. He ordered the lights off. Neither of them spoke under the cover of darkness. Eventually Leonard was drowsy enough that his thoughts began to drift, and so he rolled onto his stomach in preparation to fall asleep.

Vaguely he felt the person next to him shift position on the bed. A warm weight, like a hand, settled on his back.

“I miss you,” the whisper came out of the darkness.

“Hmm? Miss you too,” Leonard murmured, too sleepy to really think about his response.

“Bones?”

But sounds grew too distant, and Leonard heard no more.

~~~

The next morning was awkward. Jim was dressed in yesterday’s clothes when Leonard awoke. Why Jim was still in the room just sitting in the chair, open brandy decanter next to him, when he needed to be getting ready for his shift, Leonard didn’t know.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What time is it?”

“0700,” Jim responded, his tone quiet, almost careful. “I have a conference call with Headquarters at eight.”

“One of those all-day things, right? Can’t say I envy you.” He added, feeling unsettled about getting out of bed with Jim in the room, “You’d better get going, kid.”

Jim stood up and didn’t, Leonard noticed, fidget as he was wont to do. “Can we talk later?”

I don’t want to. “Sure. You know where to find me.”

Jim watched him for a moment longer before giving a short nod. “See you,” the man said, and left.

Leonard flung an arm over his eyes. Why couldn’t he have just said no? Jim wanting to talk meant the subject of Spock would inevitably come up. Then what was Leonard supposed to do? Admit he wanted to be a part of what they had?

Damn it. He was screwed.

~~~

The doctor blamed Jim for his being distracted the rest of the day. And distraction always led to mishap.

Leonard looked up, annoyed and in pain, from where he was treating a burn on his arm. “Something I can help you with, Commander?” he said with evident irritation, not feeling charitable in the least as he tried to tear into a fresh packet of gauze one-handed.

Commander Spock wordlessly crossed the threshold of the CMO’s office and removed the packet from between Leonard’s teeth. After opening it, Spock presented it to him.

Leonard accepted the gauze, reining in his temper at the display of helpfulness. “Salve’s in the drawer,” he commented, shifting slightly to allow Spock more room to maneuver.

“Why do you not use a regenerator?” the Vulcan asked while he procured the salve and placed in on a medical tray within easy reach on the desk.

“I will,” Leonard explained, “once I’ve got the area disinfected. But to do that I need the right supplies—which this department’s sadly lacking in.” He paused at the tail-end of that statement, realizing what he’d been about to say that might be misconstrued as blame.

And it wasn’t Spock’s fault that the pon farr had happened when it did and re-routed them from their usual run to pick up overdue medical supplies.

He coughed self-consciously and murmured, “We’re rationing,” and plucked open a drawer of his desk to peer inside it. “I’ll be fine. It’s barely first-degree.”

Of course he shouldn’t have gotten burned at all; but a moment of diverted attention had resulted in the slip of his hand with one of the surgical lasers he had been testing (thankfully on its lowest setting) and now he was paying the price for that.

With a mutter, Leonard placed his piece of gauze (tape, damn it, where was the tape? not in the drawer, that’s for sure) aside and flipped open the container of medical salve.

Once again, Spock interceded without being asked. “Allow me,” the Vulcan said, already taking a gentle hold on Leonard’s injured arm and scooping some of the salve onto his fingertips. Leonard watched, flabbergasted, as Spock smoothed the ointment over the burn.

“What, uh—I mean, why are you here?” he managed, shaking off the near hypnotism from tracking Spock’s carefully attentive ministrations.

“I am here,” Spock answered without looking at him, “because you are hurt.”

Leonard wasn’t certain what it was about those simple words that short-circuited his brain, but they did and he lost the ability to think for several seconds. He blinked dumbly until a question finally occurred to him: “How did you know I burned myself?” He had been alone when he did it, but even if the staff knew, his doctors and nurses did not secretly report to Spock. At least he didn’t think they did.

Spock had stilled at the question. The Vulcan was quiet for so long, Leonard repeated the question several times in his own mind to be certain he hadn’t asked something too illogical to be answered.

Leonard opened his mouth to speak just as Spock replied, “I felt your pain.”

That alarmed the doctor. “What?”

Spock focused again on treating the burn, placing the gauze on top of the salve and securing it with a length of medical tape which had appeared as if by magic. (Leonard certainly hadn’t been able to find it.)

“I explained previously that some effects of the… mating may linger,” Spock said as he worked. “One of those effects would be my heightened awareness of my m—of those with whom I engaged in intercourse.” He paused. “For lack of a better term, Leonard, there exists a bond between us.”

Leonard’s eyes rounded. He was not sure what startled him more: the use of his first name or the idea he was bonded to a Vulcan. He settled on, “How strong is this bond?”

“At present, it is residual, Doctor.”

Leonard frowned. Back to ‘Doctor’ already? Had Spock realized and regretted his slip of address? “I need a little more detail than that, Spock,” he insisted, lifting his chin as if to say this is a totally professional question.

“As I said, I am aware of you and the Captain. Also, we each may experience a low level of emotional transference if the emotions are intense. It is the joining of our minds which solidified this connection.” Spock almost looked flushed for a moment. “I performed the act based on instinct.”

“No need to get defensive,” Leonard said in a mild tone. “Jim and I both were pretty aware you were out of your Vulcan mind at the time.”

For some reason, Spock released his arm and faced away, picking up a medical instrument from the tray like it interested him. “Do you believe, then, no part of me existed in that room?”

Leonard folded his arms, mindful to keep his bandaged one on top of the other. “I think you weren’t in control of your actions, Spock. I’m not saying you didn’t know on some level what you were doing—only that you did not have the capacity at that point to deny a biological imperative. Nobody faults you for that.”

Spock didn’t seem completely satisfied. “Yet I find I am still disturbed by the difference between what occurred and what I predicted would occur. I must wonder why I turned my attentions upon you, Doctor. Logically I already had a willing partner for the duration of the pon farr. There was no need to seek additional company.”

Leonard pressed his mouth into a flat line, afraid of what he might say if he spoke.

“Yet I think—no, I remember seeing you.” Spock turned to face him again. By the look in his eyes, he might have been reliving a memory. “I do not recall most of the details in that room, Leonard, for most of my awareness took place during the brief respites, while my body was momentarily sated and my mind could process more than a singular need to claim my mate. But oddly in one of my moments of clarity I was not sated; I was… enraged for reasons I do not know. And you were there with Jim in your arms; likewise his arms were around you. You showed concerned for one another. In that moment, I believe, my rage extinguished and my thinking shifted to encompass you both.”

So it was easier for you let Jim go and replace him with me, Leonard finished silently. He had to clear his throat in order to speak. “Spock, if… if this is an apology, I’d say it’s unnecessary. I—” Don’t think it’s right to accept an apology when I took advantage of the situation. Should he admit that?

Spock gazed at him steadily. “You wish to say that you would not have objected if asked beforehand. I understand. Your duty was to help Jim survive the encounter. By diverting my attention, even for a short period of time, this was a means to accomplish that end.”

The words burst out of Leonard, “Everything’s so damned black and white for you Vulcans!” He drew in a sharp breath and grimaced. “So, yeah, I was doing my job. That’s true. But you ought to know us humans—we can be motivated by a whole mess of other things too.”

“What else would suffice as motivation, Doctor?”

Leonard fought down the urge to squirm. “I’m only a man, Spock.”

Spock simply continued to look at him. His full attention was unnerving.

Damn, this was close to the most mortifying thing he’s ever had to admit. “Look, you and Jim… I was monitoring you the whole time. Maybe…” Shit, he was blushing, wasn’t he? “Maybe I wasn’t exactly put off by what I saw.”

Spock blinked, then said, “Fascinating.”

Leonard gaped. “My god,” groaned the doctor seconds later, “that’s all you have to say? I just admitted to being a pervert. You ought to punch me, Spock.”

“Hm.”

Scrubbing his hands over his face didn’t help. What was wrong with Spock? Had the pon farr really addled his brains that bad?

Fingers wrapped around his wrists and pulled his hands away from his face.

“I believe you have just told me that you were inclined to participate because you were aroused. Is it the act itself you found arousing, or did I do something in particular which you enjoyed watching?”

Leonard’s mouth had fallen back open.

Spock leaned in. “I would assume it was the sight of Jim’s pleasure that excited you, since you and the Captain exchange sexual favors quite often.”

Leonard nearly sputtered. How did Spock know that?

The Vulcan’s baritone dropped to an impossibly low note. “Yet, to the contrary, it was I who took you.”

“Spock…” began Leonard, voice strained. But what he could he say? Deny? Nothing.

Something was different about this post-pon farr Spock: this Spock had no reservations about personal space, and the way he talked was seductive; the way he touched too. Did Vulcans grasp the concept of seduction? Apparently half-Vulcans did. All of a sudden Leonard’s pants felt uncomfortably tight. One particular part of him, at least, hadn’t forgotten how to react to the nearness of Spock’s body.

They were locked in a silent stare. Spock adjusted the grip of his hands on Leonard’s wrists so his thumbs could stroke their soft underside.

Leonard caved without meaning to. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“Please be more specific,” Spock replied.

“Fine. Just remember you asked for it,” he said and kissed the Vulcan.

The meeting of their mouths wasn’t hard or urgent as it had been during the pon farr. They kissed softly, a gentle testing of an idea. When they broke apart, Leonard was only breathless because he had liked the kissing too much.

“Is… is this a good idea?” he questioned, reluctantly facing the possibility that he was about to involve himself in something short-lived. After all, Spock had Jim now. And Leonard would bet a month’s salary that Spock loved Jim in a way he would never love anyone else.

“Your emotional projection is strong,” Spock replied instead, sidestepping an answer to the question. “What worries you, Leonard?”

“That we’re both crazy.” He released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “And that this is a side-effect of the pon farr. It’s gonna wear off.”

“It will not if we do not wish it to.”

“Was that a proposal, hobgoblin?” Leonard quipped, both amused and serious.

“I harbor a strong desire for you that is more than sexual in nature,” the Vulcan stated, matter-of-fact. “One which is equal to my desire for Jim.”

How could that be? “But you’ve always wanted Jim.” And now that Leonard had seen Jim so intimate with Spock he finally realized Jim had probably been carrying a torch for the Vulcan for a long time as well.

For just the briefest of moment, one of the corners of Spock’s mouth deepened as if to curve. Leonard stared, certain he was hallucinating. Either that or there was personality transference happening as well as emotional transference, because a smirk was purely Jim.

Spock said, “Not always, Leonard.”

Leonard conceded the point. “You did try to strangle him once.”

“And I have engaged in strong disagreements with you.”

The laugh surprised Leonard but it felt good. “Does this mean we’re gonna get along like pals from now on?”

“I highly suspect the opposite, if the term ‘old married couple’ is to be believed. However,” and here Spock’s eyes held a certain sparkle, “we might resolve our… squabbling quite differently.”

“You make a decent proposition, Mr. Spock.” Feeling like his heart might burst from the giddiness rising up in him, Leonard pulled one of his arms free and latched onto Spock’s shirt front. “Now how about demonstrating it?”

Spock obliged him.

~~~

Strangely enough, the Captain of the Enterprise came hurtling through the med bay doors less than fifteen minutes later. Jim’s gaze flew from a surprised Leonard to the remarkably unsurprised Spock and back again while his flushed appearance flushed further at the sight of the First Officer and CMO in an embrace.

“So we’re good?” Kirk blurted out, sounding positive that they were, in fact, good. Though what that ‘good’ meant was a mystery to the others.

“You look like you need to sit down,” Leonard observed.

Jim focused on Spock, his tongue darting out to run across his lower lip. “You, uh, were leaking. In the meeting. Not literally,” the man corrected hastily, his words turning into a slightly breathless jumble. “You ‘n Bones—I felt—your shielding kind of rippled—and there’s touching.” He looked at the placement of their limbs. “Lots of touching.”

“My apologies, Captain. Did we disturb your conference?” inquired Spock and, to Leonard, he didn’t sound apologetic at all.

The captain waved a hand as if he too didn’t give a damn about an apology. The way Jim suddenly fell into motion and strode toward them with undisguised desire alight in his eyes, made Leonard’s heart do a funny little jig.

“We’re good?” Jim repeated.

Leonard glanced sidelong at Spock. “Well… I think… Spock?”

Spock slid his fingers across the back of Leonard’s hand, the one still tangled in the front of his uniform tunic, seemingly fascinated by the fact he was touching Leonard so freely. “Yes, Jim. I believe we are.”

Jim slipped in close to anchor an arm around Leonard’s waist. “That’s… great.” He sounded relieved. “I don’t think you two know just how great it is.”

“We can probably guess. You must’ve hated bed-hopping.”

Jim flashed an unabashed grin at them. “I’m a man of grander schemes, Bones. …Definitely the kind of man who wants his infatuations to be infatuated with each other too.”

Leonard was certain his blush had returned with a vengeance. “I’m not infatuated with anybody!”

One of the Vulcan’s eyebrows hiked toward his hairline. “How odd, Doctor. I had assumed that was precisely the reason why you have been following me around with your tricorder since the beginning of our commission aboard the Enterprise.”

Leonard pressed his lips together to prevent a sputter from escaping and settled for giving Spock his meanest glare. Spock caressed the back of his hand again, no doubt watching with sneaky Vulcan approval as Leonard’s face successfully deepened to a tomato-red.

“I admit to a certain fascination concerning you as well,” Spock finally decided to inform him.

Jim squeezed Leonard’s side. “From Spock that’s close to a declaration of love.”

Leonard closed his eyes. “Stop it, both of you. I’m not a girl whose pigtails you can pull.”

Somebody tweaked his hair. He thought it was Jim. “Damn it, Jim!”

Eyes wide, Jim lifted his free hand in a gesture of who, me?

Leonard pried his hand out of Spock’s and twisted away from Jim’s arm. These two… They were going to get him in a lot of trouble! And it was entirely Spock’s fault he had been reduced to making out in his own Sickbay like a horny teenager.

“Scat,” he told them, trying for stern yet somehow failing. “I’ve got work to do!”

Jim looked at Spock. Spock looked at Jim.

“Should we go?” one asked of the other.

Spock tilted his head in contemplation of this question. “Captain, I would advise you that our only logical course of action is to prove to Doctor McCoy his time is best spent in our company.”

Jim looked entirely to pleased to hear this recommendation. In fact, his mouth curved in that way which meant he was feeling downright smug. “I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Spock.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Leonard tried to intercede as they turned toward him. “This is a place of work! We can’t just—”

“About how this, Bones: we do it here, then we do it in Spock’s lab, and later, after we’ve spent some more quality time in the big bed in my quarters—did I tell you I ordered that?—we sneak onto the Bridge and do it there too.”

“My god, man, you’re insane—Jim, no, I don’t have a spare shirt!—Spock, I know that’s your hand, you’d better get it out of—fine but the hobgoblin can’t keep his pants on either!”

Later, a disheveled Leonard grumped, “How is this my life?”

“Pretty awesome, huh, Bones?” Jim interpreted, shifting a hip to lean his back into the doctor’s bare chest.

Leonard gave Kirk a half-hearted shove to get him off but Jim simply responded by running a hand down McCoy’s thigh. Spock left them, striding to the doorway of Leonard’s office, impeccably dressed but with his normally neat hair slightly askew (which was funny as hell in Leonard’s opinion). Spock exited to begin a self-appointed foray to procure his mates washcloths.

They studied the closed door for a long time.

“Who would have thought I’d like the idea of a nosy Vulcan breathing down my neck?” Leonard said to Jim.

“The best things in life are the ones you least expect.”

“I think that sayin’ goes ‘the best things in life are free’, Jim.”

“That too, Bones.”

Jim tilted his head back against Leonard’s shoulder in invitation. Leonard dropped a kiss to his mouth. Then he looked at the door again, wondering not for the first time if they were starting something that could last.

“It’ll work,” Jim assured him. “Trust me.”

Leonard agreed automatically with “I do”, because there had never been a moment since they met that he didn’t trust Jim.

And this time he knew he truly wanted things to work out.

one week later…

Jim rolled over and stretched his limbs as he came awake. His elbow bumped into someone.

Leonard McCoy peeked open an eye and gave him the galaxy’s grumpiest look.

Bones had never been very cheerful in the mornings, even during those times Jim tried to wake up him with sex. Smiling, Jim leaned forward to kiss him into a better mood. Leonard graciously allowed one peck at the corner of his mouth before shoving Jim back to the middle of the bed and pulling the covers over his head with a ‘go away’ grunt.

Well, Jim thought. It’s a good thing he had another lover to whom he could give his affection.

At that thought, Jim sat up and looked around. The cabin of the sleeping area was still dark but the sound of typing could be heard from an adjacent nook inside the room. Jim climbed off the bed and eased around a floor-to-ceiling partition.

“How long have you been up?” he asked his Vulcan.

“These reports required my undivided attention this morning, Jim, particularly given that I was distracted from nearly eighty percent of yesterday’s scheduled tasks.”

“Shore leave,” Jim insisted, “is amazing. You should try it some time.”

Spock turned to consider him. “You and Leonard still have time to return to the planet’s surface if that is your wish.”

Jim shrugged the suggestion away. “Been there, done that.” He ambled over to Spock’s makeshift work station. “But be honest with me, Spock, is this all right?”

“If you refer to your company, it is.” Spock had that slight hesitation in his voice which meant he was about to reveal a very intimate thought. “…I find this shore leave to be more pleasing than those previous.”

“Good,” Jim said, meaning it. He ducked down and tilted Spock’s chin to the proper angle to press his mouth against the Vulcan’s jaw line. When he pulled back, he murmured, “I hope all your shore leaves are as good, if not better, than this one.”

“Then this arrangement pleases you also?” Spock asked him, voice quiet.

Jim smiled. “More than I can say. You and Bones mean everything to me, Spock. I think someday you will understand that, just as I believe you’ll come to understand why I made the offer I did and came out of it with no regrets.”

“Jim…”

“Shh,” Jim hushed him, leaning down toward him again. “Don’t over think it, Spock. Just let me kiss you.”

Spock did, and the Vulcan even kissed back, the waiting reports forgotten.

~~~

And so it was the pon farr made Kirk, Spock, and McCoy do some things they hadn’t planned to do but the men themselves who came to understand why it was important that they not stop there. If ever there was a happy ending, this was theirs.

The End

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• Follow Me Dark – from November 30, 2023
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