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kathierif_ficTitle: The Start To Something Beautiful
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, not anything.
Rating: FRT-13
Word Count: 1703
Warnings: slashy inter-planetarial relationships.
Summary: Six weeks of shore leave meant not seeing Leonard for at least four of those weeks.
A/Ns: written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ebi_chan who is awesome and who I love. <3.
Six weeks of shore leave meant one thing, ahead of everything else, and that was not seeing Leonard for at least four of those weeks. Leonard had packed his bags as soon as he’d set foot on Earth, had given both Jim and Spock a terse nod and had muttered something about his daughter, and then, he had disappeared.
Spock knew how much spending time with his daughter meant to Leonard, and how much he missed her, so he understood, logically, where his emotional mate was coming from and why he had acted the way he had, and it wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything for him to do.
While Leonard went home to spend time with his daughter and Jim muttered something about visiting his mother, and maybe even his brother, Spock remained in San Francisco, at Starfleet Headquarters, coordinated the re-fitting of the Enterprise, had dinner with his father once, played a very educational game of chess with his older self every week and kept himself busy.
He didn’t miss Leonard. Missing him would be illogical, and Spock was Vulcan enough not to succumb to the pull of an emotional reaction, not even when he was lying in bed at night and nobody was there to steal the blankets and complain in a gruff, sleepy voice about Spock’s perceived inability to cuddle.
Besides, he had Leonard’s private comm number. If he’d felt the need to contact him, he could do so without a problem.
There was no need to do so, and Spock didn’t make use of the series of numbers and codes that was tucked away in a safe part of his brain.
Shore leave came to an end, and slowly, people trickled back to San Francisco, and then, to the Enterprise. Spock was one of the first on board of the ship – it was his duty as first officer, he reasoned, to make sure that everything was all right. It wasn’t because he’d missed the ship. Missing the Enterprise was illogical.
A few days after his arrival, Jim returned, a relieved air around him and a soft smile on his lips as he strolled casually onto the bridge and brushed his hand along the back of his chair, as if he was greeting the ship in his own, human, emotional way. Spock crossed his hands at the small of his back and waited until Jim turned his attention to him, to give him a status report, which included the fact that exactly seventy-six point nine percent of the crew had returned to the ship already.
Leonard McCoy was not among them.
Not yet.
Spock spent a satisfying evening with Jim, sitting together for a quiet meal and retreating to one of the rec rooms for a game of chess in which he could apply a new strategy he’d developed playing with his elder self – a strategy that led to him winning every single game that evening and left Jim with a look in his eye that promised some sort of revenge.
Spock had to admit to himself that he was looking forward to it.
And then, the next morning, Dr. McCoy beamed on board.
Spock was busy with his own department, and greeting him in the transporter room was illogical, so he didn’t, and he only raised an eyebrow when Jim went.
It was evening when he finally saw Leonard, and by that point, the good doctor was already back in his uniform and in his element, organizing his sick bay and coordinating his efforts with Christine Chapel.
It was nothing out of the ordinary, and yet, Spock found himself rooted to the spot, staring at Leonard with barely concealed interest and waiting for him to notice Spock.
It took Leonard exactly forty-three point one seconds to catch sight of him and give him a nod, and then, it was three minutes and seventeen seconds until he wandered over to where Spock was still standing.
“Spock,” he said, a cautious greeting if Spock ever heard one, and narrowed his eyes. “What’s up?”
“Doctor,” Spock replied and bowed his head slightly. “I trust your vacation with your daughter went to your satisfaction?”
It worked, as Jim would put it, like a charm – the mention of Joanna always made Leonard a little softer around the edges, a little more mellow, and Spock couldn’t help but wish to meet this person, Joanna, to find out what it was about her that had such an effect on Leonard.
“Yeah,” Leonard said. He hesitated a brief moment, and then he asked, “You want to meet for dinner with me?”
Spock nodded. “Indeed, Doctor,” he confirmed. “I shall pick you up at the end of your shift.”
Leonard mirrored his nod, and then, he was off again, busy organizing hypos, and Spock forced himself to turn around and leave sick bay, his thoughts still with the good doctor.
**
McCoy had cut his hair while he had been on Earth, with his family.
The thought wouldn’t leave Spock alone for the rest of the day. It wasn’t that Leonard had shaved his hair off – no, he had only trimmed it, and Spock’s fingers itched to run through it, to touch Leonard, to feel the softness of his hair, against his fingertips.
He spent the entire time they had dinner glancing at Leonard’s hair, at the way the short strands stuck up in a way he’d so far only seen with Jim’s hair, early in the mornings when he’d had a rough night.
He probably wasn’t very subtle, because Leonard gave him increasingly irritated looks and even went so far as to brush his hand over his head – the rasp of his hair against his palm made Spock almost bite his tongue – but finally, the food was gone and their meal over, and they rose and left together. To Spock’s surprise, Leonard followed him to his quarters, waited until the door had closed behind them, and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, before finally snapping, “What?”
Spock raised his eyebrows. “Doctor…” he started, “Leonard…”
Leonard confused him with his illogical outbursts and thoughts, and Spock often wondered what had drawn them together like this. He had never been able to find a satisfactory explanation and had chosen to blame his human side for the attraction he felt.
Of course, blaming his human side was a very human thing to do, as well, but right at this exact moment, Spock didn’t care as he finally gave in to his curiosity and reached out, to touch Leonard.
His fingertips brushed against the shell of Leonard’s ear, the round curve of skin that had heated up with blood, but was still cool to Spock’s fingers, and into Leonard’s hair. His other hand reached out, for Leonard’s hand, and after a few moments, he felt Leonard’s fingers against his own, his touch cool and soothing, his thoughts anything but.
“Spock…” he growled quietly, and Spock acted on an impulse and bent down. Leonard’s hair was too short to grip, but he caught the clue nonetheless and tilted his head up, and their lips met in a very human, very deep kiss while their fingers remained tangled the Vulcan way and Spock’s other hand remained on top of Leonard’s hair, stroking the short, silky strands gently.
Finally, Leonard took a small step back. He grinned – a crooked smile that tugged at something deep in Spock, his human side, probably – and tightened his grip on Spock’s hand.
“Missed me, huh?” he asked gruffly, and Spock nodded.
“Indeed, Leonard, I did,” he replied, his voice pitched low. “Your presence in my life...” He stopped, not sure how to finish the sentence without making Leonard think he was being mocked. “Leonard, I cherish your presence in my life very much.”
It was something he had thought about for almost six weeks. For weeks, he had debated with himself if he wanted to say anything at all, if he wanted Leonard to know how much he meant to Spock, that he was more than a friend and more than a colleague anyway. He had agonized over the words he needed to say to the human for days, until his Elder Self had started to mock him gently, and then, when he’d regained his equilibrium and his logic, he had started to worry about Leonard’s reaction to his confession, and he had found himself developing an algorithm to figure out what Leonard would do.
Nothing, not even knowing Leonard and his illogical mannerisms, had prepared him for the truth of standing here and waiting for Leonard to say something.
Leonard stared at him for a long, long moment, then he started chuckling. “You green-blooded hobgoblin,” he said fondly, “why didn’t you say anything before?” He shook his head and took a step closer, to reach out himself and brush his own hand through Spock’s hair in a copy of what Spock was still doing to him. The emotions that swamped Spock, from the contact of their fingers alone, were still hard to decipher for him, but he thought he detected fondness, amusement, and deep affection – maybe, he thought hopefully, it was even more. Maybe it was love – and he should meditate more on the matter if he was hoping – an emotional action! – for something illogical like love from someone.
“Next time, don’t be a damned martyr and tell me earlier – we could’ve spent six weeks together on Earth.” Leonard shook his head slightly. “I could’ve taken you to meet Joanna.”
The implications of that were confusing and, at the same time, crystal clear. Spock found himself humbled at the mere thought of Leonard being willing to introduce his daughter to him, to spend his shore leave with him while visiting Joanna, and it made something in him swell with love and pride and other things his Vulcan half was not prepared to deal with.
“Indeed, Leonard,” he managed to say, “that would be most welcome.”
He kept a straight face, but somehow, he couldn’t fight the thought that Leonard was still able to pick up on the delighted smile that lurked just under the surface of his face.
It didn’t bother him at all.
~end.
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, not anything.
Rating: FRT-13
Word Count: 1703
Warnings: slashy inter-planetarial relationships.
Summary: Six weeks of shore leave meant not seeing Leonard for at least four of those weeks.
A/Ns: written for
ebi_chan who is awesome and who I love. <3.Six weeks of shore leave meant one thing, ahead of everything else, and that was not seeing Leonard for at least four of those weeks. Leonard had packed his bags as soon as he’d set foot on Earth, had given both Jim and Spock a terse nod and had muttered something about his daughter, and then, he had disappeared.
Spock knew how much spending time with his daughter meant to Leonard, and how much he missed her, so he understood, logically, where his emotional mate was coming from and why he had acted the way he had, and it wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything for him to do.
While Leonard went home to spend time with his daughter and Jim muttered something about visiting his mother, and maybe even his brother, Spock remained in San Francisco, at Starfleet Headquarters, coordinated the re-fitting of the Enterprise, had dinner with his father once, played a very educational game of chess with his older self every week and kept himself busy.
He didn’t miss Leonard. Missing him would be illogical, and Spock was Vulcan enough not to succumb to the pull of an emotional reaction, not even when he was lying in bed at night and nobody was there to steal the blankets and complain in a gruff, sleepy voice about Spock’s perceived inability to cuddle.
Besides, he had Leonard’s private comm number. If he’d felt the need to contact him, he could do so without a problem.
There was no need to do so, and Spock didn’t make use of the series of numbers and codes that was tucked away in a safe part of his brain.
Shore leave came to an end, and slowly, people trickled back to San Francisco, and then, to the Enterprise. Spock was one of the first on board of the ship – it was his duty as first officer, he reasoned, to make sure that everything was all right. It wasn’t because he’d missed the ship. Missing the Enterprise was illogical.
A few days after his arrival, Jim returned, a relieved air around him and a soft smile on his lips as he strolled casually onto the bridge and brushed his hand along the back of his chair, as if he was greeting the ship in his own, human, emotional way. Spock crossed his hands at the small of his back and waited until Jim turned his attention to him, to give him a status report, which included the fact that exactly seventy-six point nine percent of the crew had returned to the ship already.
Leonard McCoy was not among them.
Not yet.
Spock spent a satisfying evening with Jim, sitting together for a quiet meal and retreating to one of the rec rooms for a game of chess in which he could apply a new strategy he’d developed playing with his elder self – a strategy that led to him winning every single game that evening and left Jim with a look in his eye that promised some sort of revenge.
Spock had to admit to himself that he was looking forward to it.
And then, the next morning, Dr. McCoy beamed on board.
Spock was busy with his own department, and greeting him in the transporter room was illogical, so he didn’t, and he only raised an eyebrow when Jim went.
It was evening when he finally saw Leonard, and by that point, the good doctor was already back in his uniform and in his element, organizing his sick bay and coordinating his efforts with Christine Chapel.
It was nothing out of the ordinary, and yet, Spock found himself rooted to the spot, staring at Leonard with barely concealed interest and waiting for him to notice Spock.
It took Leonard exactly forty-three point one seconds to catch sight of him and give him a nod, and then, it was three minutes and seventeen seconds until he wandered over to where Spock was still standing.
“Spock,” he said, a cautious greeting if Spock ever heard one, and narrowed his eyes. “What’s up?”
“Doctor,” Spock replied and bowed his head slightly. “I trust your vacation with your daughter went to your satisfaction?”
It worked, as Jim would put it, like a charm – the mention of Joanna always made Leonard a little softer around the edges, a little more mellow, and Spock couldn’t help but wish to meet this person, Joanna, to find out what it was about her that had such an effect on Leonard.
“Yeah,” Leonard said. He hesitated a brief moment, and then he asked, “You want to meet for dinner with me?”
Spock nodded. “Indeed, Doctor,” he confirmed. “I shall pick you up at the end of your shift.”
Leonard mirrored his nod, and then, he was off again, busy organizing hypos, and Spock forced himself to turn around and leave sick bay, his thoughts still with the good doctor.
**
McCoy had cut his hair while he had been on Earth, with his family.
The thought wouldn’t leave Spock alone for the rest of the day. It wasn’t that Leonard had shaved his hair off – no, he had only trimmed it, and Spock’s fingers itched to run through it, to touch Leonard, to feel the softness of his hair, against his fingertips.
He spent the entire time they had dinner glancing at Leonard’s hair, at the way the short strands stuck up in a way he’d so far only seen with Jim’s hair, early in the mornings when he’d had a rough night.
He probably wasn’t very subtle, because Leonard gave him increasingly irritated looks and even went so far as to brush his hand over his head – the rasp of his hair against his palm made Spock almost bite his tongue – but finally, the food was gone and their meal over, and they rose and left together. To Spock’s surprise, Leonard followed him to his quarters, waited until the door had closed behind them, and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, before finally snapping, “What?”
Spock raised his eyebrows. “Doctor…” he started, “Leonard…”
Leonard confused him with his illogical outbursts and thoughts, and Spock often wondered what had drawn them together like this. He had never been able to find a satisfactory explanation and had chosen to blame his human side for the attraction he felt.
Of course, blaming his human side was a very human thing to do, as well, but right at this exact moment, Spock didn’t care as he finally gave in to his curiosity and reached out, to touch Leonard.
His fingertips brushed against the shell of Leonard’s ear, the round curve of skin that had heated up with blood, but was still cool to Spock’s fingers, and into Leonard’s hair. His other hand reached out, for Leonard’s hand, and after a few moments, he felt Leonard’s fingers against his own, his touch cool and soothing, his thoughts anything but.
“Spock…” he growled quietly, and Spock acted on an impulse and bent down. Leonard’s hair was too short to grip, but he caught the clue nonetheless and tilted his head up, and their lips met in a very human, very deep kiss while their fingers remained tangled the Vulcan way and Spock’s other hand remained on top of Leonard’s hair, stroking the short, silky strands gently.
Finally, Leonard took a small step back. He grinned – a crooked smile that tugged at something deep in Spock, his human side, probably – and tightened his grip on Spock’s hand.
“Missed me, huh?” he asked gruffly, and Spock nodded.
“Indeed, Leonard, I did,” he replied, his voice pitched low. “Your presence in my life...” He stopped, not sure how to finish the sentence without making Leonard think he was being mocked. “Leonard, I cherish your presence in my life very much.”
It was something he had thought about for almost six weeks. For weeks, he had debated with himself if he wanted to say anything at all, if he wanted Leonard to know how much he meant to Spock, that he was more than a friend and more than a colleague anyway. He had agonized over the words he needed to say to the human for days, until his Elder Self had started to mock him gently, and then, when he’d regained his equilibrium and his logic, he had started to worry about Leonard’s reaction to his confession, and he had found himself developing an algorithm to figure out what Leonard would do.
Nothing, not even knowing Leonard and his illogical mannerisms, had prepared him for the truth of standing here and waiting for Leonard to say something.
Leonard stared at him for a long, long moment, then he started chuckling. “You green-blooded hobgoblin,” he said fondly, “why didn’t you say anything before?” He shook his head and took a step closer, to reach out himself and brush his own hand through Spock’s hair in a copy of what Spock was still doing to him. The emotions that swamped Spock, from the contact of their fingers alone, were still hard to decipher for him, but he thought he detected fondness, amusement, and deep affection – maybe, he thought hopefully, it was even more. Maybe it was love – and he should meditate more on the matter if he was hoping – an emotional action! – for something illogical like love from someone.
“Next time, don’t be a damned martyr and tell me earlier – we could’ve spent six weeks together on Earth.” Leonard shook his head slightly. “I could’ve taken you to meet Joanna.”
The implications of that were confusing and, at the same time, crystal clear. Spock found himself humbled at the mere thought of Leonard being willing to introduce his daughter to him, to spend his shore leave with him while visiting Joanna, and it made something in him swell with love and pride and other things his Vulcan half was not prepared to deal with.
“Indeed, Leonard,” he managed to say, “that would be most welcome.”
He kept a straight face, but somehow, he couldn’t fight the thought that Leonard was still able to pick up on the delighted smile that lurked just under the surface of his face.
It didn’t bother him at all.
~end.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-05 01:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-05 04:42 pm (UTC)I liked it too <3
(no subject)
Date: 2011-11-04 03:48 pm (UTC)poor Spock, those silly Vulcan notions mess with his brain :)
I love it :)