0Title: Consider Me Accounted For
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: pre-Spock/McCoy, pre-Kirk/McCoy, pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Does Spock like him or not? Leonard simply must know.
A/N: I started out with a cute Triumvirate idea in mind; and while the result leans more towards Spones, all roads lead to Rome McSpirk, right? XD
You two are good for each other.
McCoy can’t imagine what Jim was thinking when Jim said that.
The doctor’s fingers brush across a set of spray applicators when he hears a crash nearby. Tossing a brief scowl toward the huddle of med-techs morosely staring at a box of overturned medical supplies, his frustration heightens. Blast it, he lost count of these applicators again!
Kirk, Leonard decides, is as much at fault as those apologetic-looking technicians.
Sighing, McCoy moves to the protoplaser containers, switching his small scanner to diagnostic mode. The specs return clean.
Although Jim’s remark had been offered with a slight smile and a teasing tone, from that moment on it has twisted up his thoughts so thoroughly that even this routine inventory count has become collateral damage.
“Jim, you really got me this time,” mutters Leonard, and with twitching shoulders, he maneuvers through the tightly packed shelves of Sickbay’s primary storeroom, trying to refocus his distracting thoughts.
If Kirk were present, he might have been amused by the sight. But Leonard isn’t laughing.
It shouldn’t be strange to think the ship’s captain believes his CMO and his First Officer are complementary. But Leonard feels Jim can be both right and wrong. Maybe in another universe, McCoy and Spock would use their complementary strengths to become a powerhouse among the ranks; except in this universe, they can barely tolerate each other.
Well. That’s not entirely true, determines McCoy. He personally has long left behind that initial burn of dislike he used to feel in Spock’s presence. But he wouldn’t label his feelings for Spock as fond. At least, what he feels cannot compare to the level of fondness with which Jim openly considers them both.
Besides, if the problem is not actually Jim’s ridiculous observation (good for each other, ha, what a joke!), then the issue has to hinge on one unavoidable truth: Commander Spock simply does not like Dr. Leonard McCoy.
There it is, McCoy thinks, suddenly more tight-lipped with dismay than he has been all day. An assistant staff member heading his way takes one look at his expression, which invites no questions, and veers in another direction.
Leonard stabs at the scanner’s screen, refreshing the reserve system designed for his department’s inventory management.
It’s such poor timing to finally admit the facts to himself. And why is Leonard having such difficulty setting aside his personal feelings over it?
He should care more that this paperwork will be past due. He should be concerned that when his department’s updated stock report is finally presented to Mr. Spock, the unspoken disappointment over the report’s tardiness will stay with Leonard long after he apologizes.
He does disappoint Spock quite a lot, it seems.
Take their most recent argument. Leonard’s hot temper and Spock’s cold one colliding has always been quite the spectacle, but that moment was an explosive one that rocked the bystanders like a direct hit to the ship from enemy fire. Spock is right that Leonard does not always choose to control his emotional outbursts, and with a dead lieutenant’s blood on his hands and the failure to save the man’s life like an unforgiving fist around his chest, he hadn’t bothered holding back. Spock had been the closest and most willing target. The bastard that McCoy can be sometimes, he forgot that Spock, too, would have been hurting. That young lieutenant had been under Spock’s command, after all, when he was killed.
Jim clearly told their landing party that no one was to blame. But their captain is often too forgiving of others, and that softness is why Jim attempted to push Spock and Leonard to clear the air afterward. He encouraged them to forgive themselves by first making amends with one another.
Spock offered McCoy a sincere apology because Spock meant well and because Jim wanted it from him. Leonard in turn did the same. They have returned to being civil with one another, with everything seemingly glossed over. Kirk would think it only a minor setback in Spock and McCoy’s coming to terms with the ways they naturally grate against each other. Only Jim would push forward with the gall to say, even in the wake of a terrible event, that he believes Leonard and Spock to be excellent partners.
Leonard has the habit of putting faith in Jim’s declarations. Jim is his superior as well as his friend, and Leonard wants to believe what the man believes.
But how can Jim not see the reality? To Leonard, it is no wonder that the Vulcan commander doesn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’t like him.
No doubt, Spock must be balking at Kirk’s bold statement more than Leonard is.
Leonard sighs.
It’s a tragedy, really, their rocky relationship—just like this botched stocking exercise that Leonard is convinced he will never, ever finish.
Many crewmen enjoy the ship’s arboretum for its relaxing atmosphere. The sight, smell, and sounds of nature remind McCoy of the home he left behind on Earth, where he habitually visited one of the city’s carefully preserved parks and could feel at peace. The arboretum also reminds him that a starship isn’t the cold, sterile, shiny metal trap he once feared it to be; it teems with life like a planet.
“Good morning, Dr. McCoy.”
Leonard is not surprised by the person who finds him with his gaze pinned on a cluster of flower petals actively clawing at the air. The doctor releases a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.
“Morning, Mr. Sulu,” he greets.
“Something on your mind?” Sulu asks, setting down a water canister on the bench by McCoy’s knees.
“Say you think someone hates you,” he begins, to quickly amend, “Not hating me specifically—this is a hypothetical scenario, you see.”
“Sure,” Sulu agrees too easily, taking a seat beside his canister. “But if someone did hate you…?”
Leonard lets out a frustrated sigh. “It’d be obvious.”
“Would be or should be, Doctor?”
Yeah, that’s the problem. Since his bad mood a few days ago, Leonard has taken to watching Spock closely for obvious signs of not wanting him around.
But Vulcans are damned difficult to read! It’s a combination of their societal standards and breeding, being too well-mannered to tell someone to his face to ‘get away from me!’, or so Leonard has concluded. Either Spock is in deep denial about his hatred of irrational Southern doctors, or Spock has realized he can do the most damage to Leonard’s psyche by acting like Leonard is an untroubling presence.
McCoy jolts back to the present when Sulu questions, “Doctor?”
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Ask.” Sulu gives him a long look before tacking on, “Or if asking isn’t an option, then observe the person’s actions very closely while removing your own expectations from the process.”
Leonard’s eyes light up. Of course, approach the problem analytically, as any scientist (or doctor) would! “You’re a wise man, Mr. Sulu.” He rocks briefly on the balls of his feet. “Sure I can’t convince you to switch from the Command track to Medical?”
“Medicine isn’t for me,” Mr. Sulu says with a laugh as he retrieves the canister to lightly mist the trilling flower head. “But visiting our plant friends is a satisfying hobby.” His gaze slants toward the doctor. “Have you met Gertrude?”
The flower sways in Leonard’s direction.
“Gertrude likes you,” Sulu offers, grinning suddenly.
Leonard isn’t dumb enough to miss that cue. He bows at the waist to Gertrude and drawls as any gentleman would when meeting a beauty, “Lady Gertrude, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Sulu hands him the water canister and teaches him how to interact with a race that communicates quite differently than their own.
Later Leonard leaves, glad of the reminder that such differences don’t have to be insurmountable when the right amount of effort and open-mindedness are applied. He’s also pleased to have an idea of what he wants to do about his Spock problem.
Practicing medicine requires the analytical mind of a scientist, the precision of a surgeon, and the empathy of a good therapist. If anyone aboard the ship could observe and record and interpret the nuanced behavior of an emotionally repressed person, it should be Leonard H. McCoy. But there still might be some guesswork involved in understanding the intent behind Mr. Spock’s actions. Leonard is good at reading people in general, but he is no expert on Vulcans, who are at times as mysterious as a newly discovered species.
If Leonard were to consider everything Spock does from a purely logical point of view, there isn’t much need to link what Spock does to emotion. But because Spock isn’t fully Vulcan (a fact which in the rarest situation will make itself known), Leonard has learned to expect the unexpected from his colleague.
Frankly, Leonard is not sure where this strange confidence comes from that makes him believe he can make this crazy idea work. But if it does succeed—that is, observing Spock for favorable or unfavorable behaviors or reactions with relation to Leonard himself—Leonard will know if what Jim sees in them has any chance of becoming true.
A childish adage of ‘he likes me, he likes me not’ comes to Leonard’s mind and has him snorting in amusement. Yet in essence, that is the hypothesis McCoy is set out to test.
The approach should be simple enough: a binary set of data based on real events, classified as positive or negatives, and tallied up as a set of points to determine the outcome. For example, when Leonard made his customary afternoon visit to the Bridge yesterday, Spock refrained from pointing out the CMO had no place being in the middle of a simulated battle engagement with another Starfleet vessel as he has pointed out in the past. (Jim certainly likes to put their crew through simulations of the simulations well in advance of the annual wargames just to be certain the Enterprise officers are ready for the actual faux-battle when it counts.)
That momentary lack of admonishment counts as a single point in the he-likes-me column. Leonard had contemplated if it should be counted at all, but he feels convinced the acceptance had nothing to do with the fact Spock might have been busy manning his station at the crux of the fight. After all, Spock has never hesitated to speak his mind in the past.
But waiting in the doctor’s message inbox the next morning was a comm message from the Vulcan commander, which stated in a roundabout way that McCoy should consider timing his visits to the Bridge when “matters are less urgent.” So, unfortunately, the original point in one column had to be negated by a point in the oh-he-definitely-doesn’t-like-me column, netting out the experience altogether.
But Leonard will not be deterred, not even when the tide seems against him. So he must gather more data by any means necessary, including changing his schedule to allow for tailing Spock to some of the Vulcan’s usual hangouts around the ship. Eventually, after collecting a sufficient amount of points, Leonard should be to conclude one way or another if the possibility exists that he and Spock can be friends.
And then—well, then—maybe there would be a reason to act.
It’s ironic, he thinks, that in this instance he is more willing to trust the data not to lie to him than his own instinct. Spock might be proud of him for that.
Yes, ironic indeed.
Leonard is well aware that this personal experiment, in a manner conducted both while on-duty and in his spare time, might backfire if discovered. He decides to keep all evidence of it confined to his personal quarters, or rather his personal computer resources in his quarters.
The program for officers’ private calendars includes a simple but effective note-taking feature. Leonard keeps the calendar display active and maximized on his cabin wall most nights, so he can sit down and mull over the accumulation of points he is documenting there. It turns out to be better than a late-night read when he needs to destress from the day. Sometimes he falls asleep on his short couch after updating his calendar with the day’s Spock-tangential activities.
One night he is waiting on the quarter’s replicators to produce a light snack when his door chimes with a visitor. Chapel has brought him a status report on one of the patients who needs to be closely monitored during recovery after a harrowing surgery. While Leonard has the clearance to retrieve the medical logs from any computer bank on the ship, nothing quite replaces hearing a first-hand account from his on-call staff.
He invites the nurse in, and they spend some minutes in his kitchenette chatting about her observations of the patient and debating the next course of treatment. It isn’t until they move into the main cabin that he remembers what he left open.
“Oh, what’s this?” she asks, walking over to the wall display to look over the calendar maximized to its full glory.
By the time he slides in front of her to cut off her view and deactivate the display, he sees with some trepidation the amusement dancing in her eyes.
Surely not in those few seconds, she could have—
“I didn’t realize Mr. Spock had invited you to his lecture series.”
She did see the notes. Of course she did, being highly skilled at quickly evaluating the nuances of a situation in the blink of an eye, as all Starfleet officers are trained.
Damn. Leonard pinches the bridge of his nose, agreeing since he’s been caught red-handed, “I was surprised he did too.”
The woman studies him curiously as though he has presented her with some new and entertaining puzzle. “I won’t ask what you’re up to—”
“Thank god,” he says with feeling.
“—but I think you might have missed some of the nicer gestures.”
He should either be outraged or melting with embarrassment. Instead, he asks, “Like what?” because it seems unlikely that he has missed anything.
Chapel raises an eyebrow and flicks a finger towards the now-blank display. “Yesterday Mr. Spock waited for your arrival in the bio-lab. Our staff debriefing ran over and you were late, remember?”
Leonard frowns. “That’s being polite.”
“Doesn’t Mr. Spock normally propagate the efficient use of one’s time? He should have started on the setup of the procedures right away and brought you up to speed on them later.”
She has a point. Spock adheres to a very strict standard of productivity that even Mr. Scott doesn’t demand of his engineers during a ship’s re-fitting. Yet Spock had chosen to wait for Leonard. Could it be because he knew how invested Leonard was in their respective departments’ first joint collaboration? Had Spock not wanted him to feel left out?
He vows to add a tally mark beneath yesterday’s date in the favorable column.
Then he recalls that Christine has always paid closer attention to Spock than anyone else.
He can’t help but ask, “What else?”
Chapel nods slowly, appearing to think about it for some seconds. “He holds the turbolift for you when you meet up to join Captain Kirk in the cafeteria. Are you counting those? And just last week in the rec room he played a rendition of your favorite song on his lyre—”
“Now hold on, Spock likes that song too!”
“Hm, does he?” she remarks nonchalantly. “Oh, and when Ensign Yu was giving you a difficult time about changing shifts, Mr. Spock shortened his stint in Sickbay—”
Leonard blinks. So that argumentative young man hadn’t left on his own?
“—and!” Chapel laughs softly. “While that new coffee brand has been quite the saving grace from our usual replicated fare, we all know it was Mr. Spock’s commemorative gift to you on your service anniversary, not for the communal breakroom. Nice of you to share with us, though.”
He’s unnerved by the extent to which he has been oblivious to some gestures—and also by Chapel’s uncanny perception. He decides it’s time to usher her along to her quarters before she enlightens him further.
At the door, she puts a hand on his arm and teases, “Does the Captain know about this?”
“There’s nothing for him to know about,” he says firmly.
She smiles at him in an unsettling way. “Since it’s nothing, I won’t tell him.”
Leonard feels sweat beading along his forehead at the thought of Jim finding out. He reasons, “Miss Chapel, I shall remind you that the Head Nurse’s purview does not extend to another medical officer’s private matters.”
“Professionally speaking, of course not, sir, but the purview of a good friend certainly can.”
He opens his mouth, closes it, and finally huffs.
Christine pats his shoulder sympathetically, then, and tells him to be more accurate with his assessment (as the nurse puts it, “if the likes-me category doesn’t have a clear advantage, then you are not paying attention, Leonard”) before leaving him to stew over what the heck she really means to imply.
But he does change the view settings on his calendar’s notes. Another mishap like this just won’t do.
Over the ensuing weeks, it becomes clear to McCoy that Mr. Spock has more interesting habits than he realized—and some of those habits they share.
For example, though Leonard has always suspected Spock enjoys the challenge of exploring the unknown similarly to how Kirk thrives on it, he has never considered if Spock often takes an interest in the galactic anomalies already thoroughly documented and well-known to their institution. Leonard himself is an enthusiast of the cosmos in general, for reasons that have nothing to do with science. He likes beautiful things.
When the Enterprise is scheduled to pass by a million-year-old collapsed star, the Vela pulsar, Leonard has booked a reservation on the observation deck quite far in advance. He takes a protective visor for his eyes, his favorite wineglass, and a prized mini-bottle of muscadine wine from a Georgia farm. He also brings his personal padd to capture images of the pulsar (there’s something about a photo taken by an amateur like himself that McCoy loves, even though the ship’s computerized renditions of the pulsar are guaranteed to be more detailed and colorful). So, being early to the event, Leonard is already safely ensconced at his designated spot when someone draws his attention from the viewport in front of him.
Spock, it turns out, has also been anticipating the viewing of Vela. And until that moment, faced with the bright-eyed visage of the Vulcan commander, Leonard would have assumed Spock had no real passion for distinguishing between a phenomenon’s scientific properties and its natural beauty. But Spock is, once again, an anomaly unto himself. Leonard invites him to share the viewport.
The pulsar is a sight to behold once it rolls into sight along the starboard side. Across the observatory, a swell of excitement rises up from the onlookers which attests to its powerful sway. There is something sharp and still in the Vulcan’s face that speaks as loudly as the appreciation being voiced around them—emotion carefully held in check.
As Spock is utterly captivated by Vela, at that moment McCoy is captivated by him.
The pulsar casts a bluish hue over the deck and its occupants just as the ship reaches the closest vantage point to it. Spock’s stillness shifts ever-so-slightly, and then Spock turns to Leonard and their eyes meet.
The doctor has to punch down a strange feeling. That feeling might be what spurs him to say, “We’re scheduled near the Taz II pulsar in three months. If you are not opposed to company, Jim might be willing to let us both off-duty for the viewing.”
“Given that it is the Taz II, it is highly likely the captain will choose to attend the viewing with us.”
Leonard puffs a breath against the edge of his wineglass. “All the more reason to do it. Who’s watching the captain if the captain is so busy watchin’ the stars?”
“Indeed,” Spock echoes, “who would?”
It may be the dramatic play of light and shadow over his companion’s features, but Leonard senses that Spock is oddly pleased with the idea of them watching over Kirk together.
Another point for the analysis, decides Leonard later while readying himself for bed and still thinking about the pleasant moment he had shared with Spock.
Spock had not declined his invitation, and so surely that counts as a positive mark in McCoy’s favor.
“Huh, he likes me,” Leonard chuckles softly and smiles.
Okay, the truth is Leonard may be more distracted now than when his initial preoccupation with Kirk’s proclamation drove him to start his experiment. And his distracted behavior is being noticed.
For some reason, various individuals around McCoy seem to think it is their responsibility is to find the cause of his ailment. So when he isn’t mulling over Spock’s feelings for him (and his feelings for Spock), he is placating nosy coworkers.
No, McCoy tiredly assures the frowning members of his staff, it’s nothing to do with the upcoming performance reviews. And no, don’t blame the extra shifts from that spore allergy making its way through the crew for the double bags under his eyes. Gee, thanks for your concern and the borscht, Mr. Chekov, but it’s not the bland food the replicator has been spitting out lately (even if Leonard’s taste buds are routinely disappointed by the replicator). And please don’t worry yourself, Ms. Rand. My paperwork load is manageable!
If Leonard had a reason he could voice without embarrassing himself, he would have gladly put a stop to the worried looks thrown his way at the first inkling of the rising concerns. But alas, this secret project simply cannot be divulged (for the sake of his reputation, if nothing else). So, just what is an old country doctor to do except let everybody fuss over him until he can successfully shoo them away?
But polite shooing tactic doesn’t work with particularly hardheaded individuals.
The most bullheaded of them is currently pinning Leonard with a look that makes the doctor want to shrink down where he stands.
Kirk says, “I heard there is a problem with my CMO.”
“No problem,” Leonard is quick to deny. “Everything’s fine.”
Jim takes his hands off his hips and pushes his way past McCoy into his office. The rest of Sickbay is eerily quiet, so much so the thrum of the ship’s engines seems slightly audible.
Jim says, “You look like you have a problem. One I’m not supposed to ask about. You better talk, mister.”
It’s a well-known fact that when James Tiberius Kirk breaks out the mister, pretension is moot. Jim has a way of making a liar tattle on himself even when the liar thinks he isn’t.
“Okay, fine. Sit down, Jim.” Leonard returns to his seat to push aside a stack of reports and drop his head into his hands.
McCoy’s head jerks up when a hand squeezes the back of his neck.
“That bad?” says his friend sympathetically, settling a hip on the corner of the doctor’s desk. “Bones, tell me, please. I want to help.”
Leonard still hesitates. “It’s not a problem, exactly.”
Jim keeps looking at him.
“Jim, you—some time ago, you said Spock and I are good for each other.”
Jim leans back momentarily, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. But he agrees a moment later that he did, his gaze narrow and discerning. He lightly demands, “Did that bother you?”
Bother is an understatement. It tilted Leonard’s world.
“You…!” he starts sharply but then soon deflates, not desiring an argument.
“Bones?” Jim asks, concerned.
“Never mind. Or rather,” Leonard admits in a soft but wry tone, “it’s been on my mind. What would make you say that? Spock is my colleague, and he is a commanding officer I am obligated to follow, but he is not my friend. We rarely agree on anything. We don’t spend time together outside ship’s business. You know that.”
“You share meals with me,” points out Kirk.
McCoy rolls his eyes. “Don’t preen. We like you. But my point is how do you know that we like each other?”
Jim crosses his arms across his chest. “You don’t hate each other.”
“Of course not, but it’s obvious we have more differences than similarities.”
“I appreciate your differences. I need those differences. But when you talk like this, I worry that you and Spock believe the differences mean you aren’t capable of standing together when I am not around.”
Leonard almost flinches at the idea of Jim not being around.
Jim reaches out to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I won’t take back what I said, not when I believe it. I only ask that you consider why I could feel so strongly about it. From where I am, Bones, I see great potential there. Gaining an excellent friend if nothing else.”
Leonard’s not quite sure he follows Jim’s meaning, but he can understand what Jim is asking of him. Spock’s value to Jim is not for Jim alone. Leonard could have something like it too if he is only willing to try.
“All right,” he says, sighing, and places his hand over Jim’s just briefly. “It’s you asking, so I suppose I could see what the fuss is about.”
The warm smile stretching Jim’s face leaves Leonard feeling warm too.
Leonard McCoy is an idiot. There really is no other explanation as to him making a mistake at such a critical time, when his analysis feels nearly complete. But Leonard is distracted by playing the polite host to his newly arrived guest and, of course, is nervous to be in the company of the very subject he has been observing so closely.
And because Leonard is moderately obsessed with his research and his hypothesis, his calendar is constantly minimized in the top corner of his wall display.
The moment McCoy notices Spock—no longer looming over his shoulder to watch him pour a cup of tea like assistance might be needed—standing by the wall display, his hands clasped at his back and his attention clearly caught by something interesting, Leonard’s brain screams. He fumbles the cup in his grasp, tipping hot tea all over the counter and his uniform pants at the same time he jerks around, yelling aloud, “COMPUTER, activate program A Good Time!”
Spock turns McCoy’s way with a slow blink as Leonard launches across the room just in time to power down the entire panel. Spock catches him as he loses his balance in the process and at least keeps Leonard’s face from impacting with the wall. His nose plants into Spock’s collarbone instead.
The overhead cabin lights dim. A soft ballad fills the room, and the ship’s computer replies cheerfully, “Activated. Have A Good Time!”
Excruciatingly mortified, Leonard peels his face from Spock’s chest and stumbles back. He can feel Spock’s stare on him.
The laugh that bubbles up McCoy’s throat is not completely hysterical. He manages to choke it down with what remains of his dignity.
He dares to glance up at Spock. “This isn’t what it seems like.”
“What it seems like,” Spock says in his dry monotone, “is an unusual way to entertain a guest.”
Thankfully it’s dark enough Spock cannot see the blush rising up McCoy’s neck. “Quite the understatement.”
The Vulcan inclines his head and finally breaks the charged stillness between them by walking past McCoy to his kitchenette. “Perhaps tea is best served at another time.” Spock inputs a command into the cabin replicator and a moment later takes out tiny twin tumblers of a pungent liquid.
Spock faces McCoy, holding one of them out. “I believe the appropriate remark under these circumstances would be… Would you care for a drink?”
Laughter breaks free from McCoy, this time relieved. He drawls as he takes one tumbler, “Thank you mightily, sir,” both grateful and tickled by Spock’s unexpected play at humor.
Then McCoy does them both a favor and calls for the computer to raise the cabin lights and kill the romantic tune.
Downing the strong liquor at once, he graciously waits until Spock sips from his own glass to say, “So about that report that brought you here… We might as well get to it.”
“Indeed.”
Following Spock’s departure, McCoy tosses and turns that night until it becomes apparent sleep will be impossible. He finds himself staring at the blasted calendar, which has nearly landed him in hot water twice now, and wonders just what he set out to accomplish in the first place. Is he aiming for the correct end result? Is he even asking the right question?
“You’re crazy, Leonard,” he chastises himself, turning away from the wall display to ready himself for a very early and likely very tiring workday. If an hour later, some of the staff coming off gamma shift seem surprised to see the CMO standing in the main corridor outside Sickbay, they will only greet him and move along.
And if Spock shows up right before Leonard’s lunch break like he has an appointment in Sickbay, everyone in the general ward will stare at Leonard first. But Leonard will stare at Spock and then for a second stare over Spock’s shoulder, fully expecting to see Kirk there.
By the time he realizes the Vulcan came to Sickbay of his own volition and alone, Spock steps up to him and says, “A moment of your time, please, Doctor.” Leonard acquiesences only because he is too tired to be ornery about this impromptu request.
He is fully confused after Spock faces Chapel, who is standing nearby, and to request if someone could bring Leonard a meal from the cafeteria. Then the Vulcan heads for the CMO’s office with a satisfied air. Leonard follows him almost without thought.
He’s not dreaming, Leonard will determine after pinching his arm.
In the privacy of the office, Spock sits calmly by McCoy’s elbow while the doctor eats a healthy meal delivered by a broadly smiling ensign. They have a polite conversation between McCoy’s bites of food. Then a few minutes before the turn of the hour, Spock bids Leonard farewell.
Leonard stalls Spock at the doorway to ask, less befuddled now and more curious, “Why did you really come today?” It couldn’t have been just for the chitchat, could it?
Spock raises an eyebrow. “You interest me.”
At a loss to respond, Leonard simply stares. Then wordlessly he waves his visitor back to duty.
Not ten minutes later, while Leonard is still contemplating the mystery that is First Officer Spock and disposing of the remnants of his lunch in the incinerator shute, Chapel appears at his side.
“That was certainly interesting,” she remarks.
“That’s what he said.” He eyes Christine, sharpening his tone so she knows he doesn’t want to share any opinions on the matter. “Nurse, return to duty.”
Chapel walks off with a laugh.
McCoy puts the episode out of his mind for the rest of the afternoon.
“Your First Officer might need a brain scan,” McCoy tells Kirk some days later.
Something in the doctor’s voice mitigates Kirk’s usual knee-jerk reaction because Jim doesn’t seem overly concerned by the pronouncement. He even says, “Not your professional recommendation, I take it?”
Leonard harrumphs. Then when Jim lifts a hand, Leonard warns him, “Don’t poke me!”
“Then explain,” Jim counters smoothly, mouth curving to a smile. “What’s wrong with Spock’s brain?”
If they weren’t in full view of witnesses, Leonard might consider knocking his shoulder hard into Jim’s. He settles for a roll of his eyes, not to save Kirk’s dignity, but because of those witnesses.
“Spock visited my office twice this week, and once to my lab lecture.” Leonard has a thought and frowns. “Am I being evaluated?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Jim replies in a congenial tone. “Bones, have you considered that Spock might want to get to know you a little better?”
Leonard comes to a standstill in the hallway. Jim swings around to face him, monitoring his reaction closely.
“Me?” Leonard scoffs. “There are plenty of people aboard this ship he could talk to!”
“Not so many at his level of rank,” corrects Kirk while crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s wrong with talking to Spock?”
Leonard quiets a moment. He knows very well how much Jim likes his second-in-command. Jim wouldn’t find anything wrong with being friendly with Spock. And Jim has already expressed his desire for McCoy and Spock to bond.
“Then why not just ask me?” muses Leonard. “If Spock’s so interested in figuring me out, I would let him.” He tries not to grimace as Jim’s mouth curves upward with amusement. “I mean, he could definitely work on his people skills.”
And learning to communicate with an opposite personality like Leonard McCoy would be one of the toughest challenges, wouldn’t it? Many crewmen tend to be too standoffishly polite for Spock to easily approach them. It isn’t that Spock isn’t liked, but he can certainly seem quite the intimidating authority figure.
“Bones,” Jim says, uncrossing his arms to reach out and grasp McCoy’s forearm, “I think it’s a good thing. What helps the two of you helps me.”
Leonard bats his hand away. “Don’t try to make this about yourself! Honestly, Jim, I sometimes wonder where that ego of yours comes from.”
Jim grins. “It’s not ego when you’re right.”
Leonard pushes past him, Jim falling into step as they continue to their destination in companionable silence. Until that is, the bend of the corridor presents them with Leonard’s ever-present headache.
“Mr. Spock!” Kirk greets the officer up ahead and jogs toward the Vulcan.
Why does Leonard have the sneaking suspicion Spock has been waiting for them?
Leonard offers a more cautious “Mr. Spock” and realizes that caution is clearly warranted when his gaze locks with the other man’s.
“Doctor, I was looking for you,” Spock states.
Without warning, Leonard feels overwhelmed. Because of that, “What do you need this time?” comes out harsher than he means it to.
Jim’s elbow jabs into McCoy, followed by a strong look. Play nice, Jim is warning him.
Leonard’s lips form a thin line of displeasure. “I can spare a few minutes.”
Spock looks to Jim, then, before turning back to him. “I apologize for interrupting. The matter can wait.”
“Spock,” Jim says, “you’re always a welcome interruption.”
That raw honesty from Jim makes Leonard feels ashamed. His shoulders hunch slightly under Spock’s steady gaze.
“Thank you, Captain. However it seems Dr. McCoy does not agree.”
“That’s not true!” he blurts out.
Spock cocks an eyebrow.
Leonard swallows hard. “That’s not true,” he repeats. “You caught me off guard. I’m… sorry I snapped at you.”
That’s a poor apology, McCoy knows, but at the moment it’s all he can offer without explaining that he is torn between being flattered by Spock’s attention and feeling uneasy because he doesn’t know what to do with it. It feels like the tables have turned somehow, with Leonard being closely observed instead of Spock.
Well, at the very least, Spock can classify him as the epitome of contradictory human emotions.
Leonard exhales slowly when silence stretches between them.
“Gentlemen,” Jim begins in a softened tone, shifting on his feet as the awkward moment continues.
“Apology accepted,” Spock finally says. “Doctor, if I may be so forward: I prefer your usual transparency with your feelings. It is not my desire to make you uncomfortable. Far from that, in fact, but unfortunately I am not experienced in… reading between the lines, as I believe you call it.”
Leonard must have heard him wrong. “You want to know how I’m feeling?”
“Affirmative.”
Leonard looks to Jim, waiting for Jim to explain what in blazes is going on. But Kirk’s gaze is as wide and startled as McCoy’s.
Spock must decide he has had his fill of their surprise, because he bids them farewell and retreats.
“Bones,” Jim wants to know after a moment, voice lowered just for McCoy’s hearing, “is there something I need to know about you and Spock?”
Leonard is certain even if he understand what had just happened or what spurred Spock to say that, he still wouldn’t be able to articulate it properly to himself, let alone anyone else. Clearing his throat and hoping to downplay just how shaken he is, McCoy turns back the way he and Kirk came.
Jim catches up to him quickly, turns him around, saying to Leonard’s flushed face, “Not that way.”
Then Kirk gently steers McCoy to the nearest turbolift on the deck.
Now that it’s obvious Spock is actively seeking Leonard out based on some personal motivation, Leonard is afraid of setting both of them back by avoiding him. It still takes a full day before Leonard can shake his cowardice and go to Spock.
As he makes his way to the primary laboratory of the Science department, Leonard considers what he knows. His relationship with Spock has always felt like shifting sands, a steady dune one moment, then collapsing the next. But lately the relationship has gained balance and has been settling, its shifts fewer in between, not so dramatic. Does that mean he and Spock are coming into a partnership that suits them? What final shape will it take on?
Creature of habit that he is, naturally Spock is in his office adjacent to the lab, working, when Leonard drops in. After the door opens to admit the doctor, he lingers on the threshold, asking, “Can I come in?”
Spock turns from his computer with a slight incline of his head. Once Leonard takes a seat across from the commander, Leonard watches Spock lean back in his chair and steeple his fingers. That pose means he has Spock’s undivided attention until they hash out whatever it is Leonard wants to discuss with him.
For lack of a better place to start, Leonard says, “You confuse me.”
“At times, the feeling is mutual,” replies Spock.
“You implied I wasn’t being transparent with you.” McCoy pauses. “What made you feel that way?”
“The frequency of our encounters has increased significantly over the weeks, Doctor, a fact I am certain you know well.” Spock also pauses, like McCoy taking care with his words. “Yesterday it seemed illogical that my presence would suddenly be an intrusive one given the considerable effort you have put forth in spending time with me. Therefore it seemed your reaction was defensive and not spiteful. As you would only feel defensive if you were uncomfortable, it means I possibly made you uncomfortable, and I prefer to know why.”
After a thoughtful study of McCoy’s expression, Spock goes on, “I see you do not quite understand. Consider this example: it has been approximately three weeks, four days, and nineteen hours since your last attempt at insulting me, Doctor.”
“What?”
“I understand why, of course. The act of insulting me would not count in your favor.”
“What,” Leonard repeats with a nervous fluttering in his stomach.
Spock blinks at him. “If I am offended by what you call me, you will have hurt my feelings and as such you will have done something to induce me to dislike you. Ultimately it would undo the surplus accumulated in favor of establishing a harmonious relationship between us. To be clear, I have decided to choose not to be offended. You have my permission to refer to me as a hobgoblin, or any variation thereof.” He pauses again. “I request permission to call you Leonard.”
Leonard is about to call Spock something and it isn’t a pointy-eared hobgoblin! But in that moment, the door to Spock’s office peels back, casting Kirk’s familiar shadow across the floor.
The newcomer is already speaking as he steps over the threshold. “Spock, we need to talk about yest—Bones?” He falls silent in surprise at seeing McCoy. As Jim’s gaze sharpens, taking in first Leonard’s red face then Spock’s calm one, he concludes, “I missed it again, didn’t I?” He smiles toothily at them. “I suppose, gentlemen, you figured things out?”
Leonard could weep over Jim’s perfectly timed interruption but rather than sobbing, he latches onto the man like a lifeline instead. To Spock, he cries, “Sorry, need to borrow Jim! Get back to you on the Leonard thing!”
Then Leonard none-too-gently shoves Jim into the corridor and slumps back against the door once it seals shut on Spock’s blank expression.
“I definitely missed something,” confirms Kirk.
McCoy chokes out, “Don’t ask.” Then, almost pleadingly, “Let’s get out of here.” He might implode if he has to even think of what Spock just relayed to him… revealed to him.
Spock knows. Somehow that blasted Vulcan hadn’t missed a single detail on Leonard’s wall display. No wonder he had been so quiet while Leonard was making their tea!
God, Leonard is beyond embarrassed.
And Jim, damn his soul, will laugh if he tells him—oh, delighted laughter to be sure, but the principle of the thing being Jim was right all along and Leonard doesn’t want to deal with that anymore than he wants to deal with being known by Spock.
As Leonard once suspected, the responsibility for this entire ridiculous mess has to land entirely on Jim Kirk’s shoulders. But Leonard won’t share that with his friend today.
Or that he is no longer as upset by the prospect of being close to Spock as he once was. How can Leonard be?
Spock definitely likes him.
McCoy intends to part ways with Kirk at one of the lifts but at some point, Jim takes the lead and Leonard winds up trailing behind him through the corridors. It isn’t until they enter the residential deck for senior officers that Leonard realizes Kirk’s destination.
He thinks briefly about pulling Jim to a stop and maybe reorienting them toward their favorite lounge area to share a bottle of brandy or whiskey together with a view of the stars. But Jim has grown solemn over the course of their silent trek, and so Leonard tucks aside the idea of that distraction. At last, when they arrive in front of McCoy’s cabin door, he allows the man entrance to his personal quarters.
“Drink?” Leonard says, still harboring the opinion they both need one.
Jim flashes him an unreadable look. “If you’re having one.” He heads deeper into McCoy’s main cabin.
The flutters in Leonard’s stomach aren’t just nerves leftover from Spock’s revelation but are solidifying into suspicion. His gaze tracks Kirk across the room.
Kirk stops short of his couch. “Computer, display Dr. McCoy’s personal calendar.”
Leonard’s bad feeling is spot on. With a curse, he hurries over and growls the warning, “Jim.”
The ship’s computer replies, “Passphrase required.”
Leonard grabs the man’s arm. “What do you think you are doing?”
Jim gives him a thin smile. “You locked your calendar.”
Suspicion shifts back to nerves. “Because I don’t want just anybody snooping through it!”
His gaze hooded now, Kirk points out, “I’m not ‘just anybody’. Computer, passphrase: Nana’s favorite grandson.”
Leonard gasps.
“Passphrase accepted,” announces the computer.
As the wall display fires up, tossing bright light across them, Leonard lets go of Jim to cover his face with both hands. He would beg the ship to beam him away, but that wouldn’t matter at this point. Jim is too invested in the wall display to heed Leonard’s dramatics. The doctor chooses to sit down instead.
Silence settles over them while Jim studies the calendar.
“There’s a problem here,” Jim says at last, pointing to a section of notes in the margin of the calendar. The notes read: Spock brought me the latest article on Risan flu variants +1 and Stayed by Science station for 10 minutes without being told off +2.
Leonard has nothing good to say in his defense, so he simply decides to say nothing at all.
Kirk grabs a stylus from the coffee table. Leonard watches him, also knowing better than to try and corral him.
“I can fix it,” Jim says firmly, as if that means something to Leonard, and then proceeds to open the first day of the current month, scribbling two extra tally marks next to Leonard’s on that day. Then Jim moves to the next day and repeats the exercise. The double strokes begin to take over the remaining free space of the calendar.
Finally, at the top right corner of the display Jim writes in the total of his added marks under total meant for Spock. Then the man pauses consideringly and frowns. “That can’t be all.”
“All of what?” When Jim doesn’t answer right away, Leonard accuses him, “You’re out of your mind,” and swallows down uncertainty. “I don’t understand, Jim. What are the two points per day for?”
Jim glances at him, tapping the stylus into the palm of one hand, before returning to the problem in front of him that only he understands. “I always say good morning to you even if I can’t join you for breakfast, and I check to make sure you have at least one meal besides breakfast each day. Coffee isn’t enough to sustain a man. You taught me that, Bones.”
Leonard couldn’t be more startled. “You keep up with my meal card?”
Jim aims a small smile at Leonard, then. “Well, it’s a reasonable thing to do when you care about someone.”
As Leonard works past the shock of that, he comes to a realization which leaves him even more upended. “You’re using your authority to spy on me? Who’s your spy!”
Jim twirls the stylus between his fingers, his smile fading to the faintest of smirks. “What spies?”
Leonard purses his mouth. How in blazes is he supposed to believe Kirk when he has a nonchalant attitude like that! Somebody has been keeping a close eye on McCoy and reporting—daily!—updates to the ship’s captain on his eating habits along with Lord knows what else privileged information. It’s like Jim think he is the caretaker instead of the other way around!
Oblivious to Leonard’s internal meltdown, Kirk raises his stylus in triumph suddenly and busies himself with littering the calendar with more random points. McCoy’s calendar is beginning to look ridiculously overwhelmed.
After Kirk revises the total for the final time, he steps back with a grin and a laugh and the declaration, “Poor Spock, I win.”
Leonard rolls his eyes. Only Jim would think competition improves a situation like this.
He simply doesn’t have the energy to care anymore and lets his body slouch against the couch.
“It seems you did win, Jim,” he drawls. “What did you come up with to gave you the landslide?”
Jim couldn’t possibly look more pleased with himself. “Physical affection.”
Leonard nearly chokes on his own spit.
“An advantage of being human, of course,” explains Kirk smugly. “I hug you at least twice a week. Spock doesn’t.”
“Jim!”
“But don’t tell him that yet, Bones, otherwise my strategy won’t be as effective.”
Leonard sputters, appalled and deeply embarrassed and unable to find any words that won’t be completely humiliating.
The only way to stop Jim now is to concede the fight. He avoids catching Jim’s eyes as he says, “Ok, let’s say you’ve won. You… clearly like me a lot.” He runs a hand over his face. “I knew that already.”
And Leonard did! Just not about the bits involving keeping tabs on his welfare and mandated weekly hugs. It’s a minor miracle, Leonard supposes, that Jim isn’t counting all the one-armed hugs too. Poor Spock, indeed. No one stands a chance against a tactile Jim Kirk competing through the medium of physical affection.
Leonard feels it when Jim drops onto the couch beside him and keeps his eyes closed. An arm slides around his shoulders.
A last-ditch effort at salvaging his dignity has him griping, “But who said I feel the same!”
“You let me add those marks to the calendar without fussing.”
Leonard opens his eyes. The merry twinkle in Kirk’s gaze and that sudden charming tilt to his smile are some of Kirk’s best weapons. He has them aimed straight at Leonard.
Leonard feels flush under his collar and would lean away, but the hand on his shoulder tightens slightly to prevent that.
“So, Spock knows,” Jim states with sudden gravity.
Considering what Spock said to Leonard not more than half an hour ago, Leonard feels certain Spock knows just as much as Jim about this crazy experiment. But what startles Leonard is the realization of just how happy the thought makes him. Spock knows, and Jim does, and that’s fine apparently.
Kirk relaxes against McCoy’s side.
“Good for Spock,” decides Jim, “but what should we do about it?”
Even a naturally obtuse man couldn’t miss the undercurrent in that remark, especially a man who has known Jim Kirk for as long and as well as Leonard has. Jim wants to move forward with a plan for all three of them.
Leonard finally elbows Jim enough to pull away and poke a finger into his friend’s side. “First, you tell me how you found out about my calendar.”
Jim has the decency to look sheepish, then. “Bones, that’s a complicated answer.”
“We have time,” Leonard reasons, “and lucky for you, I’ll listen because I like you as much as you like me.”
Jim laughs, squeezes Leonard’s arm, and tells him the story.
-Fini
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