#the Sharp Pointy and the Round Softy

[canisalbus]

they live in my head rent free and they love each other very much

.

[giftgvr]

Upon his initial introduction in the Pizzeria, Foxy was a character that freaked Baby-Charlie out quite a bit. He wasn't like the other animatronics up until that point; where the others had been rounded out, he was sharp, intense. He had a piercing gaze, pointy teeth, and a huge hook. She remembered seeing his work-in-progress endo in her Dad's workshop as he was being built; the way he loomed in the dark corner, the way his unfinished limbs contorted over themselves, the way he twitched violently. She couldn't help but wonder if he was in pain. This wouldn't be the first time she'd be shaken by the mascots, as Charlie found Chica's in-progress endo unnerving too (most notably her un-masked face), but found her finished self to be cute! Foxy, however, was different. Even though he was all finished, when it was his time to perform, Charlie often hid underneath the party tables.

This changed when Henry sat her down one day, telling her that she doesn't have to be afraid because Foxy's here to be her friend, to keep her company when Henry can't be there! In his words;

"He may seem tough, but he's a real softie. Don't let him know I told you that, though."

Ever since then she slowly stopped hiding from him; she doesn't have to be afraid anymore, Foxy will always be her friend!

[zalk909192]

Animal Sanctuary

AfuHiru Month - 22.08.19 Day Five_ Animal Sanctuary Rating_ Very light, very softies. What’s in here?_ another first contact between the blondies of my heart, reptiles and rodents, obnoxious friend  Ao3 here, folks (Prompt List) by Nene~

He has never loved animals.

Animals were all his life until that point.

He was scared of them, cats were too subtle, dogs too loud and messy.

He loved every kind of animal. Each one was different and they deserved food, a warm or cold place to live, a lot of petting and a bunch of love.

Animals didn't like him, anyway. They've avoided him for all of his life.

Animals loved him. Since he had memories to remember, they felt the love and looked for him.

That's why he had no animals in his life.

That's why he had an animal sanctuary.

__

Hiruma had no love for animals. It's not like he hated them, he didn't have any interest in them. They were like aliens, he didn't understand them and he preferred to be far away from them for both of the parts' sake. Dogs were too loud, too messy and too consistent, and attention-seeking. Cats were too subtle, too independent, too cold. And he was a little bit uncomfortable with cats. Birds and rodents... and if he was a little afraid of feathers, lovely furry little friends were afraid of him. So both of them were a nope. Anyway, his life was full enough even without a pet by his side. He had just got his bachelor and was looking for an apartment in the city, tired of the common ground of the campus. But not even to say, prices were out of his league. He was looking for a room, then, and he found some nice accommodations; the first was with no windows and near the airport and the railway, the second had mold everywhere and the third... the third was totally fine for its price, the only problem was the flatmate. Her name was Anezaki Mamori, she was the owner of the place and her passion was cooking. This means he had a very little space fo his things in the kitchen and that the kitchen could have been full of noise even in the night, but Hiruma couldn't care less. The room was big, nice, clean, and with a private bathroom. Perfect. The second passion of Mamori was being obnoxious, but he found out this detail later. After a while, they clicked with each other and eventually, they became friends. At least, they spent a lot of time arguing over nothing important just for fun. Animals were one of their favorite topics. She insisted so bad about Hiruma and his indifference because she believed he just didn't have found the right species for him yet. Hiruma always laughed at her thesis until one day she looked in his eyes and "We are taking a pet with us." And Hiruma was "Not a chance." "The house is mine." "I pay my rent!" "You can choose." "That's like I'm taking a pet. No." "Come." "Where?" "To the Sanctuary." "To what?" "The Animal Sanctuary. Shut up and come. And take the coat! There are 8 degrees in the street, you can't go out with just a shirt!" And rolling his eyes, Hiruma went with her. And his coat. Even if a coat was unnecessary because he was always hot like Hell.

Hiruma was expecting a cottage, a chalet, a zoo, a church maybe, but- He wasn't expecting another apartment, sixth floor of a normal residential building. When they arrived he looked at Mamori and she shrugged her shoulders. "You'll be surprised by the number of abandoned animals we have right here in this city." No other words, she rang the bell. After a second they heard a voice screaming "I'm feeding the baby ferrets, one second!" Hiruma looked at Mamori and he saw a smile he didn't like so much. He felt like he was trapped. And he was ready to left and went home when the door opened and he saw a man standing in front of them. "Oh. Mamori, how could I have forgotten your visit." "Nah, I've nothing for you. But I have a friend and he is going to take home one of your needy friends~" "Mamo- no- absolutely, I'm not here to adopt, I'm sorry, but animals hate me an-" "Animals can't hate." The tone of voice was candid but dangerous. "Well, they avoid me very often and I don't have... interest. Mamori made up this thing but-" Afuro shook his head with a kind smile. "Don't worry, you've come this far. Come in, both of you... even if I've told you to bring only conscious people!" And he looked at Mamori harshly. Hiruma thought his eyes were powerful and scary at the same time. And they were red. A strange color. He entered the room and he finally was able to take off his coat with a sigh of relieved, and quickly to follow the flow and hanging it over a hook near the door like Mamori did right before him. Then he turned around and he was completely astonished by the vision. The entrance of the house was full of shelves and every shelf was full of cages with every possible kind of rodents you could think of and possibly more. "Oh." He has never seen anything like that. But like always, the rodents in the room started to squeak a bit and Afuro instantly noticed it. Not a single of his little friends were looking at the new human. Strange enough to make him frown; they were always happy to see new faces. It was sad. It wasn't hate. It was fear. "Let's have some tea, shall we?" And he pushed the new guy in the next room, followed by a chuckling Mamori. There were few cages, but isolated one to the other and covered with dark drapes. Hiruma was strangely uncomfortable by the exact moment he was in. "What-" "Nocturnal. Almost birds of prey, you know. They are waiting for another Sanctuary to be accepted, they are here just for a stall, I don't have the space to treat them well enough." He seemed really sorry about that and Hiruma didn't pry more. But that room wasn't the final destination. The door after was the final one. A nice kitchen, with three chairs and a round table in a corner by a big window. It was cozy, warm, and... "That's a-" "A fox. She is good, don't worry. Her name is Pollon. She is a softie by heart." "I've never seen a fox. Live." "Go ahead, then." Hiruma was surprised again, when could you see a fox in such a random moment of your life? He approached her gently and Pollon smelled him for a moment. Like some serious shit was going on. Then, she simply retreats. Fast. Hiruma was a bit hurt by avoidance, but he accepted it. He knew it. Afuro was freaking out inside. He looked at Pollon, she was already following Mamori, who was in charge of the tea like always, hoping for a snack. Oh, poor- wait. What was his name? "I'm Afuro Terumi, owner of this Sanctuary. Yes, I rescue animals for a living. Take a seat, the maid will be here soon with the tea." He said out loud and the hissing of Mamori was perfectly audible from where they were. Hiruma laughed and sat, looking at the fox. What a pity. "I'm Hiruma Yoichi. Friend and flatmate of the maid." "I can hear you." Afuro smiled, looking at him like he wanted to know his deepest secret. "Happy to finally meet you, then. Mamori says you are a pain, but a funny one." "I hope so or I should ask myself why she hadn't evicted me yet." Afuro was... nice. He left the impression of a confident person, gracefull, even dangerous but with a golden heart. Hiruma liked him like a bee could like a colorful flower. Or like a mosquito could like the blue light of the death. Afuro asked him about animals. He asked about his attitude towards them and with some unmotivated shame, he apologized for his fox behavior. Hiruma laughed. It was fine, nothing new. If animals couldn't hate, they couldn't offend too. But Afuro was offended by the universe. How could a man scare animals so much? And how dare his animals to fear such a nice young man? He was nice, gentle. Yeah, ok, he had sharp teeth, pointy ears, but he had met scarier people who were loved at 100% by his fox. He was the exception he didn't want to know about. The maid and their teas arrived and the talk about life in general for a while. Then, Hiruma asked about his animals. Only rodents, a fox and some occasional stalls? He was ironic, Hiruma was thinking that much was more than enough but Afuro's eyes widened in surprise. "Of course no! Mamori... do you tell him about the reptiles? You know I don't want to have people who don't know..." "Ops. I forgot." Hiruma was looking at them. He wasn't scared of reptiles in general. He hadn't seen one in his life. "Yes, I rescue rodents and reptiles." "Can I meet them or...?" Afuro looked at him. He hesitated. After the weird reaction of the others... but he used the word "meet" and not the word "see". He liked that. A lot. "Yes, of course. Follow me." Afuro returned in the rodent's room and opened a door leading to... it was amazing. Snakes. Even some salamanders, iguanas, chameleons, frogs, but- Snakes. Hiruma walked through the door and his mouth fell open. Afuro had a nice smile on his face, while he was going straight to the nearest glass-case and starting to explain something Hiruma didn't hear at all. There was something strange going on. Like he was looking at them, they were looking back. At least thirty pairs of eyes were following every move he did. With their nose pressed on the glass, their eyes wide opened like they were really interested. Afuro noticed it after some seconds and his mouth fell open as well. "They- they've never reacted like this." Hiruma took a few steps until the first glass cage. Mamori had a strange smile on her face when he lowered his face to look in the eyes of the snake. He was a ball python, a pretty common one. They glared at each other like they were having a conversation, then the python gently booped the glass with his head. Hiruma smiled. Mamori went straight to the point. "I told you. You hadn't met the right one yet." Afuro was already next to Hiruma, watching by himself at what was happening. "You hypnotize them?" He was speculating, with a soft voice. "She is Narnia. She likes to abscond under the fridge." "And what about that?" Hiruma was looking a bit higher, now. "He is a Cobra named Zen. He sleeps most of the time and he is an aggressive son of a- mh... Not with you, it's miracle." He whispered the last part because that situation was too abnormal: Zen wasn't in combat mode, he was almost waving at the finger Hiruma put on the glass. Insane. Afuro did it once to see the reaction and he didn't even want to remember it. Talking about his snakes, he described them to Hiruma until he stopped by the glass of a black python. It was the newest, found in a box not far from there five days before like it was a kitten. "And about...?" "He doesn't have a name. He's a Coulbert constrictor, I think. I can't say if he is young or aged, it's only thirty centimeters, but some of his kind only reach the fifty centimeters." Afuro shrugged, looking at Hiruma furtively, by little glances. His expression was pure gold. He felt a bit for it. "If you want you can hold it." For the first time, since Hiruma stepped into the room, he looked at Afuro instead of a snake. "Can I?" But Afuro was already on a chair, removing the little one, who immediately strangled his wrist. "Being a constrictor he is going to strangle you. Don't make it go to your throat. He can't kill be it can be annoying, ok?" Hiruma was already staring at the constrictor and he just accosted the hand to the snake, but at last... it wasn't necessary. The black one was ready. When that hand was near enough, he crawled with a little hiss around the palm and then the wrist of Hiruma, who chuckled a little. "It's cold." The snake, by the way, seemed to have found his paradise. And Afuro could see why. He accidentally touched Hiruma's skin and he was hot. Really hot. Like ha had a fever, but he was fine all the time, so... The constrictor rolled up against his arm and Hiruma dared to boop his head. He was a little confused, maybe, the fact is he saw the shirt of Hiruma and he decided to run away, right through the gap between the buttons. Hiruma laughed, letting him do whatever he wanted e Afuro, once again, was surprised by the confidence the snake had with that guy. And vice-versa. "Maybe because you are so hot?" Another guessing, just some words he didn't think he was saying out loud. Hiruma looked at him and started laughing. "What kind of hot?" Afuro blushed a little. Maybe every kind of hot. "I mean, your temperatures." He touched the forehead of Hiruma like he wanted to see if he had a fever. "At least 37 degrees. Maybe 38. Of course, he loves you. You are hot." "Only this kind of hot? It's a shame." But he was distracted by the snake, he was on his back, crawling up straight to the shirt collar and Hiruma turned his head to face him with a smile. What a stupid and vacant look he had, he was funny. Hiruma, with firm hands, took the little guy and it crawled to strangle his wrist lying his head on his palm. He hissed quietly. But he was put again in his glass cage and the two guys talked a lot about snakes, about their habit in captivity and in the wild, about what every one of them liked to eat. Hiruma listened to Afuro, at some point, caressing a boa named Bliny. She was long around three meters and her weight was at least thirty kilograms. Afuro told him the previous owner was forced to gave her away when he had to return to his hometown, in Russia. Bliny is, of course, the name of some traditional crumpets. Hiruma started with Bliny on his shoulder until she crawled all around his body, trying to undress him for being in contact with his skin. Hiruma struggled a bit, then he nervously accepted and took off his shirt. Afuro, inside, had a bit of a heart attack, because the vision was almost erotic. The dark greyish scales of Bliny on the white skin of Hiruma were hypnotizing. He liked it. Hiruma was thin but strong. He had Bliny on his shoulder for almost an hour and he was still standing like it was nothing. Afuro could feel the warm Hiruma was emanating, staying next to him. Then, Hiruma gently moved Bliny to her glass box, and back to the door, he dared to ask. "Can I touch Zen?" Afuro glace at him. "He is a fucker. And he is venomous." "He seems adorable." "I don't want a corpse." They changed the subject of the conversation and Afuro was so relaxed he forgot about Mamori. And by the way, Mamori had left them alone ages before, going to read a book in the kitchen. Nobody cared enough to notice and Mamori was ok with that. Hiruma was taking home a little friend, she knew it. She was happy to stick around for a while. Pollon was on her lap to keep her company. What else could she ask? But eventually, Afuro noticed her absence and leaving Hiruma alone, he did go to find her, like the nice host he was. After some words, he returned to the reptiles and he held back a cry. Hiruma was the most inconsiderate person on the planet. He had Zen in his hands, out of the case, he was talking to him with a calm voice and Afuro thought, and not for the first time that day, that he would love to have sex with Hiruma. But- "Put him down, please." Soft voice, but both Hiruma and Zen looked at him. And Zen wasn't happy to see him, because he hissed and his hood popped out in a matter of seconds. Hiruma was so surprised he whispered an "oh" and Zen turn toward his face with another hiss. Hiruma smiled and... Afuro was done. "HOW DID YOU DO THAT." Because Zen was snuggling against Hiruma's neck like a dam cat. "I don't know!" And Hiruma, caressing him like he really was a kitten, put him back in his little glass house, safe and sound. When the risk was off again, Afuro frowned and went to Hiruma looking pretty angry. "God, I don't know if you are lucky or talented, but I know you are an imbecile! What the heck did you think?" "Nothing happened, right?" "That's not the point!" "Yeah, well, I just wanted to see if- ok, your snakes, you know them. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it." ...but he was clear he wasn't sorry at all, with that obnoxious grin on his face. Afuro sighed, be he wasn't so angry about it. Hiruma was thrilling. He was probably a natural. "Since you like them so much, you should come again to help with the feeding." "Oh yes, please." The instant reply was pleasant. But it was just for the snakes or...? "I mean, I don't want to bother you." "Not at all, I like your presence here. And they like it too, can't you see?" Afuro was smiling at him and Hiruma suddenly reminded himself he was half-naked. He reached for his shirt and put it on. "We should exchange our numbers" he suggested with a cunning smile. "It seems like a good idea." ...maybe it wasn't just for the snake. The smiled at each other and just in time, Mamori was at the door, yawning. "I'm going. Afuro, this is your free evening, right?" "Yes, well, Suzuno and Nagumo should be here in less than an hour. Why do you-" "Then you should come to our house, Mamori made a pretty decent lemon cake." Mamori muttered and frowned because her lemon cake was perfect, not only decent, but Afuro was happy just looking at the snake whisperer. "Why not, then?" They ignored Mamori and went out of the house even before her, laughing when she complained about the fact that she didn't exist for them. But inside, Mamori was happy. At last, Hiruma took home a needy one, right?

[hwqll]

If you haven’t already, could you make a guide for The Boyz? I need to learn their names because I want to stan! The only one I know is New and it’s because of the phone booth scene(s) in No Air. Pls help

here you go!~

[ guide to the boyz no air edition by age ]

[cr. naminuna] Sangyeon 

leader, oldest (dubbed as the father lmao)

physically he’s shortish, small eyes, most likely has his hair parted like in the picture 

pretty funny in variety and does voice impressions of emperors

vocal

[cr. BUD OF LOVE] Jacob

softest boy ever, his hair is grey/colorful right now so you can recognize him easily but other than that he has bunny teeth and cute lil cheeks

½ canadian line (usually translating with kevin and eric)

referred to as the angel of the group 99% of the time

passionate girl group dancer, pelvis king

vocal

[cr. VELVET GOLD MIND] Younghoon

nickname is bread(bbanghoon)

tallest

usually pouting, holding his hands to his chest, shyish

has round/big eyes and a small mouth

he’s so soft despite his height you could pummel him(literally top 4 weakest)

vocal

[cr. BELOVED] Hyunjae 

dorky, has a laugh where his mouth is big and his eyes crinkle

also has a small mouth and pointy face, almondy eyes

has greyish hair alongside jacob but they don’t look anything alike

master of spinning anything on his fingertips

goes to the gym everyday, buff boy™

vocal

[cr. Mood for Love] Juyeon

tbz believe he’d die first in an apocolypse

“serious” and sensitive guy(not rly)

his hands are 20.5 cm and tbz will never stop talking about it 

his smile reminds me of a cat and as he has the cutest eye smile

long limbs in general

vocal

Kevin

½ of canadian line

hair is usually swoopy but if it’s a bowl it’s pretty bouncy

also it’s red 

has a heart shape in his mouth

very very very artistic, designed some parts of tbz’ past albums 

piano and vocal boy

he’s a bit awkward but it’s funny and we love him

along with younghoon, you can pummel kevin

talks in vines and memes

signature peace sign in selcas and poses

skinny legs

[cr. COCO DEWY] New

you already know him but just know that

has a slight case of rbf

gets the most roasted by members

he’s small af(by weight) but can eat a ton

you can pummel chanhee 

has a habit where he raises his eyebrows sometimes for no reason

touches his mouth/nose when he laughs

pink hair rn

vocal

[cr. THEQ]  Q

super long neck

hair is mostly swoopy for this era

prominent cheekbones

laughs a lot

small mouth

i’m listing them by vocal/rapper but he’s mostly known for his dancing as well

could also pummel Q

[cr. DEAR, MY UNIVERSE] Haknyeon

chubby lil cheeks and sharp teeth 

small eyes

kinda has a squarish rectangular face

his hair is either in a bowl like this or parted directly down the center

small in terms of height

members like to say he eats a lot frequently

mc material, likes to joke around a lot 

was on produce 101 

vocal/rapper

[cr. pink sparkle!] Hwall

big case of rbf, has a resting scowl

sharp eyes when he’s dancing

don’t let this fool you because even members refer to him as a [chic] baby

unique(?) fashion sense, likes those furry tiger jackets

has abs hiding under his clothes

biggest bts fan ever, knows all their choreo and lyrics  

fun fact: his name is hwall which means bow in korean and it turns out he’s really good at archery as he won gold at the ISAC

he’s all of the hyung’s favorites

knows how to make sunwoo end himself

rapper(vocal sometimes. we never know because he gets .3 lines per song haha)

[cr. in the groove] Sunwoo

creker likes to display him as a hard rapper but he’s a whole(maybe half) softie

professional roaster, mostly to new

will come for you

coconut haircut for life

he’s growing

in animal comparisons, he’s a raccoon and no one can tell me otherwise

usually wants to die of second-hand embarrassment

main rapper, also a vocal

Eric

LA gangster

shortest one, also has a cute eye crinkle

sharp jaw line

mostly has fluffy orange hair rn 

international soft boy

bffs with felix from skz 

rapper

and that’s all of them! some of these descriptions are more helpful than others and i’m sorry for that LOL the easiest way to know them is watching the series’ that they’ve done before because they have many! 

[enterprisetrampstamp]

what you want

for @sleepymccoy. congrats on the degree!

also posted on ao3

Len drags his feet, letting his tour guide- an enthusiastic young woman whose pips indicate she’s soon to graduate- pull ahead of him. She’s so caught up in her well-rehearsed speech that she doesn’t seem to notice his absence, plowing through the crowded Academy sidewalks with the confidence of seniority as the other cadets part around her.

He should probably feel bad about ditching her; she seems like a perfectly nice girl. Likely to go far in Starfleet, if the obvious respect her peers have for her is any indication.

Len should feel bad, but he doesn’t. As soon as kids start slipping between them, taking advantage of the empty sidewalk she leaves in her wake, he turns smartly on his heel and peels away.

Damned ridiculous, being led around as if he’s never been here before. Just because he graduated from med school and then joined the ‘fleet doesn’t mean he’s never set foot on the fucking campus. Jim did cajole him over to this side of the country a good handful of times before they fully drifted apart, in those godawful years after the mission ended.

Len shoves his hands in his pockets, hiking his shoulders up to his ears with a huff. “Godawful”, he has no idea where that came from. He didn’t have to deal with alien lifeforms committing murder or stealing bodies or impersonating Chicago mobsters, he wasn’t treating dumbass officers who had no idea how to take care of themselves- just normal, civilian dumbasses- and, of course--he got to see Joanna on a regular basis.

Retirement was- is- a retreat.

The only reason he’s even still in San Francisco, over a month after the successful resolution of the V’ger incident, is that Starfleet won’t let him leave. Conscripted service his fucking--

“Conscripted service my fucking ass,” he announces loudly, and of the cadets nearby, only the youngest look over at him with surprise. The others, like college students everywhere, have long since been inured to the weird shit that comes out of people’s mouths on campus.

Len cranes his neck, shading his eyes form the sun as he tries to read the stupidly intricate script of the letters on the stupidly tall facade of the nearest building. He figures his tour guide must have noticed by now that she lost him, and he draws quite a bit of attention, being dressed in civvies and also forty-odd years older than the cadets on either side of him; he needs to get off the street.

It’s either an astronomy building, he decides, or they slapped Sally Ride’s name on something random.

With a furtive glance back the way he came, Len takes the steps two at a time as he tugs off his scarf. The blast of heat is unpleasant when he presses through the heavy, wooden doors--what is it about lecture halls that prevents them from setting their thermostats at anything in between glacial and tropical?

Makes him feel a little nostalgic, actually.

Len grins, rubbing his hands together. Maybe he can find an interesting lecture to sit in on, before the security officer assigned to his case- an exasperated young man named Harvey- tracks him down again. Or maybe--

“Spock,” he blurts, and for a second he thinks he’s just mistakenly shouted at some other Vulcan.

Then the pointy-eared bastard turns, one eyebrow raised, and the cadet he’s speaking to steps neatly to his side, her gaze flicking over Len with a spark of curiosity.

“Dr. McCoy.” Spock inclines his head in greeting as Len drifts closer, his hands folding neatly behind his back.

“Have you taken on a lecture series?” Len asks, and he doesn’t even bother to hide his interest. He’d heard Spock was being offered a captaincy, now that he was re-committed to Starfleet, but neither Nyota nor Jim had breathed a word about this.

Spock ignores him, his dark gaze taking in Len’s civilian clothes with a hint of a frown at the corners of his lips. “Have you not accepted the renewal of your commission?” he asks, voice sharp; the cadet raises an eyebrow as she glances at him sidelong. “Admiral Kirk had implied--”

Len guffaws. “Jim’s still riding the high from having his silver lady back for those few short days. He hasn’t figured out yet that it’s not going to be like old times just because he pulled some strings and got me drafted for one mission. He’s still on desk duty, and I--” He rubs his eyebrow and sighs, his mirth fading as swiftly as it had come. “I still have a life back in Georgia.”

Spock tilts his head. “Yet you have remained in San Francisco.”

Len glances at the still-present cadet- she’s looking back and forth between the two of them with surprisingly visible interest- and offers Spock an uncomfortable shrug. “The admiralty’s pulling out all the stops,” he drawls. “They’re trying to sweeten the deal until I stop saying no, and in the mean time, they’re using every regulation they can to keep me in town.”

Spock nods as if this doesn’t surprise him. “It was a severe oversight to have allowed you to leave Starfleet without protest in the first place,” he states gravely.

Len rocks back on his heels, blinking, but his surprise quickly diffuses into a soft thrum of pleasure. He lets his grin spread across his face and reaches out to brush his fingertips over Spock’s sleeve. “Missed you, too,” he teases.

Before Spock can respond, the door behind them opens and brings with it a blast of sound from the street beyond. Len can hear- faintly, still a good distance off- someone asking, “Have you seen an older guy, kind of an asshole, dressed in civvies--”

Len claps Spock on the shoulder. “Good talk,” he declares, and hurries past them down the hall. He calls back, “Pass my love on to Harv for me, won’t you?”

The last thing he hears, before he’s rounded a corner into a gaggle of bright-eyed first-year cadets, is Spock’s shadow addressing him in Vulcan, her words indecipherable but her tone curious, perhaps even downright fascinated.

Len grins to himself as he re-wraps his scarf. Now, if he were the back exit onto the next street over, where would he be?

       Nyota heaves a dramatic sigh and presses her shoulder against his, and when he lolls his head to look at her- good food, great alcohol, and better company leaving him feeling too pleasantly sluggish to properly lift it from the back of the patio bench- her gaze is fixed on the San Francisco skyline where it spreads out in front of them, glittering in the night.

“I feel like I don’t even know what I want any more,” she tells him. Her voice is softly plaintive, and he straightens just enough to drape his arm across her shoulders, letting his cheek come to rest against the top of her head.

“You want your own command; you always have.” Len rubs her arm with one hand, a sardonic little grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “God only knows why.”

She huffs, and it’s not quite a laugh. Still, he knows his bad joke managed to cheer her up a little, and there’s a smug sort of satisfaction nestled in his chest as he takes another sip of his mint julep.

“It always seemed so far out of reach,” she admits. “Like a pipe dream.”

“And now that it’s almost in front of you, you’re not sure what to do with it.”

Nyota laughs; it’s a sad, anxious little sound. Her fingertips are tracing patterns in the condensation on her bottle of beer. “That obvious?”

“That normal,” he counters, nudging her knee with his. “It happens to all of us, darlin’. Just don’t let your doubts take over and keep you from what you want.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and Len doesn’t bother trying to guess what she’s thinking. Nyota, out of all of them, has always had the easiest time of expressing herself; if he gives her enough time, he’s sure she’ll find the right words.

And she does.

“What if it turns out it’s not what I want at all?” she whispers. She shrinks in on herself, just a bit--ashamed to be having these doubts, or maybe worried he’ll simply dismiss them without a second thought.

She’s a strong woman, Nyota Uhura, and she’s never wanted anyone’s approval of her decisions--but this late at night, in the company of a friend and under the influence of alcohol, even the strongest need reassurance.

Len holds her tighter and turns his glass to study its contents moodily, giving a self-deprecating snort. “Well, I guess you would fulfill your obligations and then move on to what’s next,” he tells her, his voice as quiet as hers. “And whatever you decide it is you actually want, you’ll go and get it, and dazzle us all in the process.”

Nyota huffs, rolling her eyes, and Len smiles even as he tells her softly, “But you can’t know whether or not you really want a command until you try for one.”

She slumps into his side, the tension leaving her all at once. “How’d you get that miserly reputation of yours, Lenny?” she teases. She reaches over to knock her bottle against his glass, a teasing grin playing at the corners of her lips. “You’re just one big softie at heart.”

Len grunts, informing her drily, “Judicious application of hyposprays. Damned near managed to drive even Jim off, way back when.”

Nyota extricates herself from under his arm, shifting in her seat so she can studying the line of his profile, and he can feel himself start to tense under that piercing gaze. “Speaking of Jim,” she begins.

Len winces. “Nyota...”

She ignores the warning in his tone. “What is it you want these days, Dr. McCoy? Because this purgatory you’ve let yourself be trapped in--”

“Let myself--”

She scoffs. “I know you, Len. If you wanted to be back in Georgia already, you wouldn’t have let a bunch of bullshit regs that don’t even really apply to you keep you here. You’d have told Starfleet to shove it and been on the first shuttle back to Meridian, or wherever the hell it is you’re from.”

Len pulls his arm off of the back of the bench, propping his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, staring moodily into his glass once more. “Meridian’s in Mississippi,” he mutters.

“Not the point,” she tells him kindly, rubbing him comfortingly between his shoulder blades. “All your hemming and hawing has finally started to make even Jim nervous, you know. He’s putting up a good front for the rest of the admiralty, but he’s worried you really are going to turn down your commission.”

“Can’t let things go on like this forever, can I?” Len asks, sighing, and tosses back the rest of his drink in one go. He turns the glass over and sets it on the balcony railing before settling back into his seat, chewing on his lip.

She lets him sit in silence for a good five minutes, and then she heaves another sigh. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” she orders.

“Spock’s teaching,” he blurts, then blinks. “My god, you’ve already mastered that authoritative voice, haven’t you?”

“I’m doubting whether or not I want a command, not whether or not I’d be good at it,” Nyota teases, and the light scrape of her nails at the back of his neck is comforting as she smiles at him, her dark eyes soft.

“Spock’s teaching?” she asks, leadingly, when he remains quiet for a long moment.

Len drums his fingers on his thighs, shaking his head. “That’s not why... I’ve only known that for a few days. Jim was more focused on waxing poetic about the captaincy they were offering him, and you and I’ve been...” he gestures vaguely.

“Not talking about Starfleet because up until now, I hadn’t managed to get you drunk enough to agree to do so,” Nyota fills in, her voice thick with amusement.

Len barks a laugh. “Jesus. Yeah, alright, I’ve been avoidin’ this conversation.”

“Because you don’t want to let them renew your commission, but you haven’t been willing to break Jim’s heart?” she suggests, though she doesn’t sound like she believes it.

“Because...” Len blows out a breath. “Because I went after what I thought I wanted, and it turned out I was wrong.”

He doesn’t look at her as he steals her beer. It tastes like piss; he genuinely has no idea why she drinks the stuff, but his julep’s gone and he really needs some more alcohol in his system.

“Are you talking about Georgia?” she asks him, and he rubs his hand over his face without answering. She sits back, muttering something in Swahili that he’s sure is something along the lines of “Jesus fuck.”

He stands abruptly, scowling out at the glittering streets of San Francisco. “I never wanted to be on that mission in the first place,” he says fiercely, curling his arms around himself as if he can shield his heart from his own words. “And maybe I enjoyed myself once we were out there, but there was a part of me that was always thinking of the moment I’d get to go home again. I resigned my commission the minute we touched down, stubbornly happy as a clam, and I stayed that way right up until the moment I realized I was walking around dreaming about the day I’d be back on a starship the same way I used to dream about Georgia.”

“Oh, Len,” Nyota says, softly.

He throws his arms wide, a desperate sort of smile on his face. “I have a life, Ny! I have a steady, pleasant job, I have friends, I get to visit Jojo at college every couple Saturdays- more often, if I’m willin’ to play nice with Joss and go same day she does--”

“But you’re not happy.”

He buries his face in his hands. “I’m not happy,” he admits, voice muffled. “And meanwhile Spock is out here shaping the minds of impressionable young officers, with all his ‘logic this’ and ‘Surak that’.”

Nyota, bless her, ignores his bullshit in order to cut straight to the heart of the matter. “You’d be a great professor, Len.”

He huffs, setting one hand on his hip as he takes another swig of her beer, and shoots her a dirty look. “We were talkin’ about you,” he accuses, and she smiles up at him serenely. Somehow, she must’ve left the balcony and grabbed herself another beer without him even noticing.

She sips from the bottle delicately, raising her eyebrows at him. “Sounds like you’ve known what you want for a while now; you just haven’t been willing to admit it.”

Len rubs the bridge of his nose, rocking up onto his toes and then back down. “I’ll talk to Jim in the morning,” he says resignedly. “And you--” he prods a finger at her, narrowing her eyes. “You’re talking to him, too. You know he’ll do whatever he can to get you in the right position to take over a ship sometime in the next five years.”

Nyota salutes him lazily with her beer, a sly twinkle in her eye. “Yessir, Commander McCoy, sir.”

“Jesus.” Len balks. “They’re not going to try and fucking promote me, are they?”

The answering sound of her laughter curls up into the night, bright and loud, and maybe signing his life away to Starfleet is worth it just for that.

      Len wipes his hands on his uniform pants before he knocks, willing himself to be a little less nervous. It’s just Spock for God’s sakes! He’s known the man- Vulcan- for well over a decade now, and they’ve certainly had worse things to say to each other over the years than “Surprise! We’re coworkers again!”

He raps sharply three times, before he can lose his nerve again, and then another two for good measure. Sometimes Spock gets so caught up in something fascinating that he doesn’t even hear--

The door swooshes open. He must not’ve been working, then.

“Doctor,” Spock greets, folding his hands inside his dark blue robes, and Len rocks up onto the balls of his feet and back down, at a loss for words.

“Wanted you to be the first to know,” he finally announces, after the moment drags on just slightly too long. He steps back, making quick work of the buttons of his coat, and then spreads it wide, an obvious invitation for Spock to study his attire. The beige jumpsuit doesn’t feel like home the same way his medical blues used to, but--

He’ll get used to it.

Spock raises an eyebrow. “You have not yet informed Admiral Kirk?”

Len huffs, prodding him in the chest as he shoves past into Spock’s apartment. “Fine; yes, I had to tell Jim, so you’re second. Third, actually, since Nyota’s the one who finally managed to talk me into it, and if you start counting every yeoman with a PADD for me to sign--” He swings to a stop in the middle of the room and sets his hands on his hips, glaring back at Spock. “But you’re the first person I’m choosing to tell, just for the sake of the telling.”

There’s a glitter of amusement in Spock’s eyes as he moves away from the door, letting it finally slide shut. “I am honored.”

“You’re humoring me,” Len accuses. He tilts his chin up, turning on his heel to survey Spock’s living room. “But I’ll allow it,” he adds, a wisp of fondness in his voice as nostalgia rolls over him like a wave.

Late in the five year mission, sometimes he’d show up too early to walk to breakfast together and wait in the main room while Spock finished getting ready. Other times, they’d spend late nights on his Starfleet-issue couch working on reports, debating about any subject under the sun, or simply existing in one another’s presence.

He must have seen Spock’s quarters a hundred times, by the end--and for all that he’s never set foot in this building before today, he’s been in this room before.

The furniture is different and the floorspace greater, leaving the overall effect much more subtle and open, but the general layout, the wall hangings, the books on the shelves, the lyre in the corner--they’re all the same.

“You really haven’t changed a bit,” he murmurs with a small shake of his head.

“I must disagree, Doctor.” Spock counters promptly, moving to join Len in the center of the room. “We are each a sum of our experiences; from moment to moment we are redefined in subtle ways. Our years spent apart have necessarily wrought changes--”

“Spock,” Len interrupts, shoving his hands in his pockets as he smiles up at him. “Trust me; in all the ways that matter, you’re the same person you’ve always been.”

Spock tilts his head. There’s something soft in the lines around his eyes, something that makes Len’s heart constrict in his chest.

“Recent events have been highly effective at revealing my motivations in undertaking the rite of Kolinahr,” he says quietly, apropos of nothing. “I was concerned by the connection I had made to my human side throughout the years of our mission, and I sought to distance myself from it once more. I failed, Doctor; as such, I have finally put to rest my hesitance to embrace the person I became under the influence of your and Jim’s friendship.”

Len swallows hard. “Then you’re saying I’m right,” he says weakly.

“I am saying--”

Spock’s fingers are cool as they curl around the back of Len’s neck, cradling his skull in one large hand.

“--I was wrong,” he murmurs.

Len forgoes the doorbell in favor of knocking, three sharp raps and then two more. Sometimes Spock gets so caught up in his work, or his meditation, that he doesn’t notice someone’s at the door. Len finds it a little endearing, almost despite himself.

It takes over a minute for Spock to summon him, but Len just hooks his fingers in his belt and whistles as he waits. They’re on their way back to Earth--pending a lack of emergencies in the next two weeks, the Enterprise has, for all intents and purposes, completed her mission.

They’re a nice prospect, those quiet two weeks.

Afterwards, he’s going back to Georgia- permanently, so long as he can weather Jim’s puppy dog eyes and come out with his convictions intact- but he hopes... well. Maybe he’ll have some visitors once in a while.

“Spock,” he greets, grinning, when the Vulcan finally appears. He pushes past him into his quarters, almost bouncing with excitement. “Look, I’ve been trying to figure out a good way to say this for almost a week now, and--”

“Doctor.” Spock has not moved from the doorway. “May I inquire as to the nature of your visit?”

Len crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Kind of what I was attempting to get at just now.”

“This is a personal matter,” Spock surmises.

“Sure, of course it is. Spock, I--”

“Doctor, I am in the process of completing the last of the crew evaluations; can this wait?”

Len scratches the back of his head, a rueful tilt to his lips. ”Not really,” he admits. “I may lose my nerve, and we just don’t have that much time left.”

With something that isn’t a sigh, because Vulcans do not sigh, Spock finally joins Len in the middle of the room. “I am listening,” he says. He sounds resigned.

Ignoring the flare of anxiety in his gut, Len plods forward. “Look, Spock, I just wanted you to know that I’ve...” he stares up at those dark eyes and swallows hard. “I’ve come to appreciate your friendship. I may be resigning the ‘fleet, but whenever you’re on Earth, there’s a guest room with your name on it.”

“Doctor--”

“Wait, that’s--” Len holds up his hand. “That’s the chicken shit version, all right? There’s more to it, just give me a moment.” He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath, and then releases it all at once. Talking’s probably easier if he’s not watching Spock watch him; he keeps his eyes shut tight.

“Spock, I... I care about you very deeply. I’d like--that is, I understand that this is practically the worst time I could have brought this up, but I’m worried we’ll never get another chance if I don’t. I just--”

He makes a noise of frustration, opening his eyes, and simply yanks Spock down by his uniform shirt to plant one on him. That Spock- with his Vulcan strength- allows himself to be manhandled is promising; that he doesn’t reciprocate the kiss is less so.

Len releases him and steps back, feeling more than a bit foolish. “If you’re interested,” he finishes awkwardly, unable to meet Spock’s eyes.

“I do not believe this to be... wise, Doctor,” Spock says, with a voice that is uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Right.” Len nods, straightening out his med blues. He’s pretty sure his face is about to spontaneously combust. “Well, that guest room’s up for grabs regardless. I’ll... see you around.”

And then he- for lack of a better word- runs.

He barely sees Spock outside of a professional capacity for the remainder of the mission; it’s Nyota who tells him, sounding frustrated and forlorn, about Spock’s decision to undergo Kolinahr.

Len presses up onto his toes as Spock leans down, meeting him in the middle. Spock is warm against him, tall and strong, and his hands are hesitant as they drift over Len’s back, so lightly as to be almost unnoticeable through the thick canvas of his coat. Len’s arms, of their own accord, curl tightly about Spock’s neck, and he clings tightly as he pours himself into the kiss.

When they draw apart, breathing heavily, Len prods Spock firmly in the chest with one finger. “This is not why I came back to Starfleet,” he says, a note of warning in his voice.

Spock’s eyes glitter with amusement. “I am aware, Doctor.”

“I’m just saying, you don’t need to go getting a big head.”

“My cranium is of an average size for a Vulcan of my height and weight.”

Len practically growls, biting back the smile that wants to spread giddily across his face. “You know damn well what I mean, Mr. Spock; so help me God if you decided to get a sense of humor after all these years--”

“Leonard.”

His jaw snaps shut as he stares up at Spock with wide eyes, and the Vulcan has the gall to look pleased with himself as he brings his hands to Len’s shoulders, encouraging his coat to slip from his arms to pool at their feet.

“I am gratified you have chosen to remain with Starfleet,” Spock tells him lightly. “Regardless of your motivations for doing so.”

Len smiles, reaching up to trace the curve of one pointed ear. “I finally figured out what I wanted,” he admits. “Take me to bed, Mr. Spock?”

“Yes, Doctor.”