#Jim just glances at McCoy

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

I’m so happy you wrote for Star Trek! Can I get “Are you okay? You look a little…” “I’m fine!” with Bones? Thank you if you can!

It had been at least four hours now without contact with the enterprise. Being stranded on an uninhabited ice planet could be worse, you tried to rationalize, but you couldn't come up with anything.

Another shiver ran through your body. You shifted your body closer to McCoy in hopes of preserving more of your body heat.

Leonard cleared his throat, wordlessly, he wrapped his arm around you pulling you closer.

"You know, things could be worse," he said simply.

"How?" you let out a small laugh, eyes gazing up at him.

"I could be stuck here with Jim - or worse - the pointy eared-"

You smacked him playfully on the chest, earning a laugh from him. "That sound like how it could be worse for you, not so much for me."

"You'd rather be here with one of them?" He teased.

"Well..." you trailed off, enjoying the way you got a rise out of the good doctor. You let out a loud laugh that had Leonard looking at you in a way that made you stop. His expression softer than you had ever seen directed at you.

You cleared your throat, trying to stop the heat rising in your cheeks. "How much longer do you think?"

He let out a sigh, "You'd think they'd would have figured it out by now. Can't be much longer."

You silently nodded your head in response. You'd passed most of your time like this. Chattering and complaining with Leonard as you huddled together. Truthfully, there was no one on the ship you'd have rather gotten stranded with. Leonard was your best friend, your person in more ways than one.

You reveled in having alone time with him. It was rare - one of you ways always needed or surrounded by other people.

"What are you thinking about?" He was looking at you with a growing grin. "You must be thinking about somethin' awful hard sweetheart, I can see the gears turning." He placed his finger gently against your forehead to prove his point.

"You," you said matter-of-factly, your gaze meeting his stunned expression.

"What-"

"You know, I've been thinking about you a lot lately."

"I don't-"

"It was almost seamless, you know? One day you see your best friend, and the next day you see your person. The one you want to spend every waking minute with."

"Could you just stop talkin' for one damn minute," Leonard was trying very hard to keep his composure. "Are you-" he paused, "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Leonard, I-"

"Bones! Bones, can you hear me?"

You both jumped, Leonard grabbing the communicator.

"Jim?"

"Are you both okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine." Leonard glanced down at you.

"Good, prepare to beam up."

"Leonard?" You said softly, inching your face closer to his.

"Yeah, darlin'?" He said breathlessly.

"It is what you think I'm saying," you kissed him on the corner of his mouth, enjoying the way his eyes fluttered closed.

The familiar feeling overtook you, as you found yourself on the enterprise.

Uhura was quickly by your side as she helped you to sickbay to get looked over.

Leonard was left standing on the transporter pad breathless and in a state of disbelief.

"Uh, you alright there, Bones?" Jim teased. "You look a little-"

"M'fine!" He grumbled. Brushing past Jim towards sickbay.

"Oh my god, it finally happened!" Jim clapped him on the back.

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," he said gruffly.

"Sure you don't, Bones."

Leonard tried to calm his racing heart. It had finally happened. He couldn't help the smile stretching across his face.

[toboldlygohome]

Pining

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Summary: Leonard has it bad for you and doesn't know what to do about it. All he knows is that this little crush is getting out of hand.

Character(s): Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James "Jim" Kirk, Spock, Nyota Uhura, Pavel Chekov,

Warning(s): Wounds, Cursing, Slight Angst (Don't worry, there's fluff at the end)

"Bones.... Bones.... Bones?...............Bones!"

Leonard snapped back to reality and returned his focus to the conversation he was having...well...supposed to be having.

"Seriously Bones, what's with you lately?" Jim raised an eyebrow.

"What are you going on about?" Bones scoffed.

"I've been trying to discuss this report with you and you're not even remotely paying attention to me."

"I'm paying attention!"

"Really? Cause it looked like you were staring at Lieutenant-Commander Y/L/N." Kirk crossed his arms.

"No I was not," Leonard frowned.

"Were too!"

"Was not!"

"Were t-" Jim was cut off by Uhura turning around in her seat.

"Boys, seriously. You bicker like an old married couple. Some of us actually have work to do." She scolded.

Leonard sighed and shook his head. "Look Jim, I was just spacing out. That's. All."

"Yeah, spacing out while your eyes are burning holes into Y/N's back. Sounds an awful lot like staring." Jim laughed

Leonard's eyes darted over to you as you patted Chekov on the back, said goodbye to him and Sulu, and made your way out of the bridge. When he turned back, he found three pairs of eyes watching him with amusement.

"Oh what now?" Leonard put his hand on his hips. "Seriously, do you all have nothing better to do with your time than speculate on where my attention's at?"

"There is no need to speculate doctor, you have your sights set on Lieutenant-Commander Y/L/N. It is perfectly natural, there is no need for you to feel ashamed," Spock said.

"I'm NOT ashamed! I'm a doctor, not some giddy little schoolboy with a crush," Leonard defended.

"Hey, no one ever said anything about a crush. We just said you have a staring problem," Jim laughed.

Leonard sputtered for some sort of comeback. Some way to deny any validity to the things they were saying. But the truth is that they caught him in a lie. He was staring. Bones had been watching as you talked animatedly to Chekov about an experiment you were doing in the botany labs. Leonard imagined it was him you were talking to, him you were laughing with. Just the thought of it made his stomach churn in a mixture of delight and grief.

"Aaaaand now we've lost him," Jim snickered, interrupting his thoughts again.

"Really doctor, it's not that big of a deal. We've all been in your predicament before...well... maybe not all of us." Uhura glanced at Kirk playfully, who shrugged in response. "Y/L/N is a great scientist, and an even greater friend-"

"Yes yes and very beautiful, with eyes like stars!" Chekov added, "Y/N has many admirers, you are not the only one."

"Chekov?" Bones asked

"Yes sir?"

"Stop talking."

"Yes sir." Chekov turned back to his screen.

"Look, Bones you don't have to admit it just yet. You have that whole brooding cowboy doctor thing going on, I get it! Just don't let it get in the way of your happiness," Jim reasoned.

"You are all delusional! Now are you all going to continue turning me into a spectacle, or can we get back to this mission report?" Leonard demanded.

"Whatever the doctor orders. Try to listen this time will ya?" Kirk teased.

~~~

Leonard was noticing it more and more. How his eyes searched for you every dinner, every meeting, in the hallways, even in the medbay. And once his eyes found you, they rarely strayed too far.

When you weren't around him, his thoughts always drifted back to you. How nice your hair looked, how fascinating your last report was, how enchanting your voice is, ...how soft your lips look. It was all getting out of hand. He was regularly staying later to finish paperwork because he was too lost in his own head.

Leonard was having one of those moments where his mind was far away, musing about you. He was so spaced out, he nearly didn't notice the tap on his shoulder.

When he turned around and saw you standing there smiling shyly at him, his heart nearly went up into his throat.

"Lieutenant-Commander, what can I do for you?" Leonard asked, finding a smile of his own.

"Can you take a look at my hand please?" You asked, holding one of your hands closed. Leonard noticed some red peeking from between your fingers.

"Oh boy, what did you do this time?" Bones asked as he led you to sit on one of the biobeds.

"You know those plants I picked up from Lainatha?" You asked

"The ones with the purple flowers that smell like a dead body?" He asked as he grabbed his kit.

"Mhm!"

"What about em?"

"They have VERY sharp leaves," You laughed.

Leonard shook his head and groaned, "Let me take a look."

You winced as you slowly opened your hand, revealing a cut that spanned the length of your palm.

Leonard lightly cradled the back of your hand as he inspected the minor wound. "Damn darlin' those leaves must be mighty sharp to nick you this deep." He murmured. "this plant ain't poisonous, right?"

"Not that I've found, doctor." You laughed. His ears welcomed the sound. He felt his cheeks warm as he admired you. When you laughed or smiled, it was contagious. Even to him.

"Leonard?" You asked gently, breaking from his daze once more.

"Sorry, just thinking that um... We're gonna want to keep an eye on this, just in case you have some unexpected reaction," He returned his focus to your hand. "I'm gonna clean this up, put some bandages on it and give you something to speed up the healing process," Bones explained.

He went straight to work on your palm, handling it as carefully as possible. Luckily it didn't need stitches. He bandaged it nice and tight before giving you a couple hypos to prevent pain and infection.

"I expect to see you here at least once a day, so I can see the progress and monitor for allergies or poison," Leonard instructed.

"Do you always worry this much?" You giggled.

"Only about my favorite patients," he said without thinking. Perhaps it was just a figment of his imagination, but he could have swore you were blushing. Impossible! You? Blush at him?

'In my dreams,' Bones thought.

"I promise I'll stop by," You said sweetly.

"You better. If I don't see you in here by the end of my shift tomorrow, I'm coming after you." He teased accusingly.

"I'm counting on it," You...did you just... wink at him? "Thanks for the help Bones, I'll see you tomorrow!" You lightly patted his shoulder with your uninjured hand and hurried back to your lab.

Leonard slumped in his seat and contemplated the mess of feelings he was experiencing. He wasn't sure if he was ready to love someone again. He wasn't even sure if he knew how to love anymore, but he was sure of one thing. You had him wrapped around your finger and you didn't even know it.

~~~

The next day, Leonard strove to keep his mind on work. When his thoughts drifted to you, he would immediately turn his attention to the task at hand. It worked for awhile, but toward the end of his shift he realized he had not seen you all day. You had promised to come in so he could take a look at your cut again, but of course you were nowhere to be seen.

Leonard asked around the medbay, but no one had seen you except for one nurse who claimed you were still in the botany lab. "That's just typical," Bones grumbled, grabbing his kit. "I'm always running around, gathering these officers like a cat chasing chickens."

The moment he stepped into the lab, he couldn't find it in his heart to be mad at you. You were totally engrossed in your work, testing the ph levels in some alien soil.

"How are the tests coming along, Lieutenant-Commander?" Leonard smirked.

You beamed at him, "wonderfully! I'm learning so many new things, it's crazy. I-" Your face fell. "Oh no! Forgot to meet with you! I'm so sorry Leonard," you hurriedly put down your soil container and made your way over to him.

"Yeah yeah you're so sorry, whatever. " He teased. "Get over here so I can see that hand."

The inspection went just fine. Your hand was healing nicely and there was no sign of infection or allergic reaction. He changed the bandages and gave you something for the pain.

"All finished. I still want to observe it, just to make sure it heals nicely... And wear gloves from now on! I don't want to have to keep chasing you around for injuries like this." Leonard quipped.

"Yes sir," you giggled, "I won't forget to come in next time."

"I'll believe it when I see it," he closed his medical bag.

"I mean it! i'm almost done testing all the samples, so I should have ample time for remembering... at least until we visit another unexplored planet." You shrugged playfully.

"Then you'll find some new plant to creatively injure yourself with. Razor sharp leaves... give me a break," Leonard ran his fingers through his hair.

"Oh! that reminds me, I have something to show you. Come on!" You nudged him with your leg and stood up, striding over to the 'plant nursery' as you so lovingly called it. Leonard grinned at your enthusiasm and followed.

"You're sure none of these are poisonous?" He asked

"We don't keep the poisonous ones here, silly."

"But you do have them?"

"What's your obsession with poisonous and allergy educing plants?"

"I wouldn't call it an obsession, a mild concern maybe," Leonard smirked.

"I'm not gonna poison you doctor, I want to show you this!" You proudly presented him with a somewhat unassuming plant. It had a black stem with thorns on it, as well as wide black leaves. On top was a bulb; the kind that usually holds flowers inside. He couldn't for the life of him understand what was so interesting about it, but he was sure he was about to find out if that dazzling smile on your face was any indication.

He loved when you ranted about your work. The joy in your voice was infectious, your ramblings were so passionate, and he always learned something new. He would listen to you talk all day if he could.

"What is it?" he raised an eyebrow at the plant and bit back a smile.

"Don't sound so unimpressed Len, this little guy is one of my favorite plants to date." You crossed your arms. "I found him during our exploration of Conate Ultima-A." Leonard nearly melted when you called the plant a 'little guy.'

"The planet orbiting the red dwarf star?" Leonard clarified.

"Mhm! he's black all over because black absorbs all available wavelengths of light. That's important for a plant feeding off such a dim star like Conate Ultima. He has these big leaves, you see." You lightly touched one of the leaves. "That's also for absorbing light. Not only that, but they've developed thorns to keep herbivores from eating them." You explained.

"Like Earth roses," Leonard smiled at the way your eyes lit up.

"Exactly like Earth roses!" You agreed, "They also have this really unique trait where if you pick the flower, it doesn't wilt. Instead, it sprouts roots at the bottom and you can transplant it!" You beamed "But that isn't even the best part."

"It isn't? Tell me darlin', what could possibly top that?" Bones asked.

"Technically, this is another defense mechanism, but..." You cradled the bulb in your hands. "When you caress the bulb like this," You delicately brushed the sides of the bulb with your thumbs. Slowly, the bulb opened to reveal the brightest yellow flower he had ever seen. It practically glowed against the black leaves. He had to agree with you, this was the best part."

"Wow..." Leonard tried it with another bulb. It slowly opened for him as well.

"I know, awesome right?" You lightly bumped his shoulder with yours.

"What do you call it?" Leonard inquired, pulling his hand away from the plant.

"Well, officially we call it Conate Rosaceae... but I've named this one Leonard." You looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes and he couldn't look away.

"You named it after me?" He asked.

"Yeah, it reminds me of you."

"How so?"

"Well, it's perfectly designed to find light in dark places." You chuckled, "no matter how many times you try to cut it down it just comes back bigger and stronger." You fiddled with your bandages sheepishly. "It has this intimidating exterior that most people try to avoid... but... on the inside, It's the brightest, most breathtaking flower. So bright, it stands out from all the others."

To say Leonard was flattered would be an understatement. He had received compliments before. On his work, his hands, maybe even his hair, but he couldn't recall the last time someone had told him something so meaningful. Bones didn't know what to say; he didn't even know what to do with his hands. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man for crying out loud! But here he was, nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.

He needed to say something, anything. A simple thank you didn't feel like enough. Nothing about him felt like enough after Jocelyn.

He swallowed.

You made him feel like enough.

"Y/N..." Leonard stepped closer. You looked up at him with those eyes again. Those eyes he loved to get lost in. Your gaze met his and it was like something clicked inside him. Your eyes flickered down just for a moment, but he caught it. His heart fluttered and his blood rushed to his face. It was now or never.

He leaned in.

You leaned in.

There were mere inches between you.

He could feel your breath on his lips.

"Lieutenant-Commander Y/L/N to the bridge," the intercom startled you both apart.

"Dammit Jim..." Leonard slid a hand over his flushed face and sighed, clearly displeased with his friend's interruption.

"The captain always has the most impeccable timing, doesn't he?" You smiled awkwardly, bouncing on your heels.

"That's one way to put it, yes" Bones frowned at ceiling. There was an awkward pause. He could sense your expectant gaze on him, but he could already feel his walls coming up again. The love would start off sweet, sure, but it wouldn't last. It never did. Leonard cared about you- no, that wasn't right, it was more than that. He couldn't bear it if this didn't work out.

Maybe this is for the best.

"Leonard?..." You said softly.

"It's okay Y/N. You'd better get up there, see what he wants," Leonard offered you a terse smile.

You nodded softly, "yes sir, I'll um.. I'll see you later." He didn't miss the disappointment in your eyes as you left.

He was disappointed too, but Leonard was used to disappointment.

~~~

Two weeks went by and Leonard seemed to be avoiding you. Your cut had healed, but another form of hurt took its place. Had you done something wrong? Pushed him away somehow? It made you sick to think that your almost-kiss had cost you a dear friend. You had tried to speak with him several times, but he always had somewhere else to be. He was busy immunizing security personnel for an upcoming mission. Your silly affair in the plant nursery was probably the last thing on his mind. Still, you felt incredibly lonely. You missed sharing meals with him, stopping in the hallway to chat with him. You missed his anecdotes about Georgia and his snide remarks about Jim's inability to stay out of trouble.

As much as it pained you to think this way, you wished you could take back what you said in the lab. You wished you had just kept it buried, then none of this would have happened. Leonard would have patched you up instead of Christine, and you wouldn't be left in this weird limbo between friends, lovers, and strangers.

"Lieutenant-Commander?" Spock interrupted your lamenting.

"Oh! I'm so sorry Commander, what can I do for you?" You forced a smile.

"I want to discuss your productivity. Can we speak in your office?" Spock asked.

"Of course, right this way." You led him to your office and shut the door behind you. You already had an idea of where this was going. You had been feeling anxious lately and your work was suffering because of it.

"Should we...have a seat?" You asked awkwardly.

"I do not believe that will be necessary, this will only take a moment." Spock pulled out his PADD. "Tell me, are you feeling well?"

You were a bit taken aback by the question. It wasn't often Spock inquired about your state of being. "I um... yeah, I feel fine. Why?" You lied.

"Your colleagues have informed me that you seem... fatigued during your experiments. I have also noticed your report was full of misspellings and grammatical mistakes, which is unusual for you. Additionally, you appeared distracted and dazed when I approached you just moments ago. Normally you greet me by the door." He slightly raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry Spock..." You sighed and sat on the edge of your desk, "I've just been feeling...uneasy I guess."

"Uneasy?" Spock inquired.

"Yeah, my anxiety has been really bothering me lately. I don't mean to worry you." You gave him a half smile.

"Have you spoken with the doctor?" Spock asked. Your stomach sank at the thought.

"I um... no, I haven't."

Spock studied you for a moment, scrutinizing you for any hints as to why you haven't sought medical assistance or counseling when both were readily available.

"I just...don't feel welcome there right now." You met Spock's gaze. A silent conversation passed through you.

"I see." Spock said and looked down at his PADD. "Well, Lieutenant-Commander Y/L/N, I was pleased with your research on the razor-leaf corpse flower. I have kept a watchful eye on your lab access logs and have determined you are due to have two cycles off."

You smiled. For real this time, "thank you Commander Spock. I will use them well"

"I trust that you will. Good day Y/N."

"Good day, Mr. Spock."

~~~

Leonard stared at his PADD in frustration. Everything had irritated him lately, even the blinking of the cursor on the screen. His irritation quickly turned into aggravation when Jim barged in unannounced.

"Bones! My good, good friend Bones!" Kirk shut the door behind him.

"What?" Leonard grunted.

"Yeesh, don't sound too excited to see me." Jim sat in the seat across from his desk.

"I'm busy, what do you want?" Bones refused to look at the captain. Maybe if he just didn't look at him, he would go away.

"Can't I just chat with a pal without wanting something from him?" Jim fiddled with a paperweight on the desk.

"Jim." Bones warned.

"You know doctor, it's very unprofessional to scare away patients, right?"

Defeated, Leonard looked up from his work. "What in god's name are you talking about?"

"Y/n" Jim crossed his arms and stared hard at him. Something about his expression put Leonard on edge.

"What about Y/N?" Bones narrowed his eyes at the captain.

"Spock just got done telling me that Y/N, and I quote, 'doesn't feel welcome here right now.' I wonder why that could be."

Leonard huffed and ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day. "Dammit..."

"What happened bones?" Jim leaned in.

"Nothing happened." Leonard snapped.

"Clearly something happened for you to be so-"

"Nothing happened... that's the problem," Bones clarified. Leonard didn't realize it was even possible to feel so terrible. He hadn't felt this bad since the divorce, but at least with the divorce he wasn't the only one at fault. Leonard had been childishly avoiding you, and now you didn't feel comfortable in the one place you should always feel safe to go. "I'm a goddamned coward, Jim."

There was a long pause between them. Leonard didn't need to tell him what happened for Jim to understand. "What did I tell you about not letting the brooding cowboy act get in the way of your happiness?" The captain teased.

"Not helping." Leonard rested his face in his hands.

"Right, sorry." Jim shifted awkwardly. Bones was grumpy at the best of times, but he always had this undertone of playfulness. He could scold you about missing an exam or tell you your plan is trash, but it would be wrapped up in southern metaphors and clever insults. This was different, this was real. "You...you really love them, huh?"

Leonard nodded.

"Something happened and... now you aren't sure how to take that next step." Jim said.

"Something like that... I thought I knew what I was doing, but now I'm not so sure. I thought some distance would make it clear to me, but I'm more lost than ever... I've made a terrible mistake Jim, one I don't know how to fix," Leonard peered into his coffee mug to avoid the captain's piercing blue eyes.

"Look Bones, clearly you and Y/N are miserable, so why don't you do the both of you a favor and talk to them. I'm sure Y/N will understand if you just...explain how you've been feeling," Jim attempted to reassure his friend.

"I don't exactly have the best track record on talking about feelings, Jim. I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist." McCoy frowned.

"First time for everything," Jim reached over and patted Leonard's shoulder. "Go make it right. That's an order."

Leonard took a long drink of his coffee, "can't believe I'm taking dating advice from James T. Kirk"

"Like I said. First time for everything."

~~~

You had spent the entirety of your day off attempting to read, but you really weren't in the mood for much of anything except sleep. Nyota had stopped by earlier and you greatly enjoyed her company, but the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach hadn't gone away.

You just really wanted to talk to Leonard, apologize for misreading the situation. You handled the unrequited love for years and you'd do it for many more as long as you knew you could still be friends.

You heard a buzz at the door and contemplated ignoring it. It was way past normal visiting hours and you were trying to wind down. Perhaps it was something important. You answered the door, expecting Chekov, Nyota, or maybe even Spock. Instead, you were greeted by an extremely exhausted looking Bones.

"Oh, doctor I um, wasn't expecting you." You said, feeling your heart-rate skyrocket.

"Can I come in?" Leonard asked with that rough, gravely voice you had always loved so much.

"Of course," you stepped aside "Come on in..."

Leonard hesitated a moment before stepping inside. Your room was homey, full of furnishings that were so you, it made his insides churn with affection.

"Len, are you okay?" You asked softly from beside the door, afraid to get any closer.

Leonard watched you for a moment, trying to find the words to say, but one look at you and all of his practiced lines had disappeared for good. All he could say was, "I'm sorry darlin'..."

"You're...sorry?" You asked.

"I've been acting like a kid... I'm sorry I haven't been around. We should have talked about this as soon as it happened."

You sighed. You knew this would be coming sooner or later. You were glad he at least wanted to do it in private. "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have come onto you like that... I scared you off and made things awkward for us both professionally, and as friends-"

"No, no, wait a minute. That's not." Leonard took a deep breath to organize his thoughts. "Y/N, you are so beautiful and smart and dedicated, and funny. You light up every room you walk into."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and wondered if this was a dream. Leonard stepped closer and gave you a hesitant smile. "I'm damaged goods sweetheart. You deserve more than I can give, but it's only been two weeks and I'm a goddamned wreck." Leonard's voice was strained as he poured his heart out to you. "I can deny it all I want, but-" His breath hitched when you placed your hand on his cheek. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the sharp poke of his stubble.

"Leonard, please..." You whispered, eyes pleading with him.

"Please what, darlin'?" He drawled, bringing his hands to your face. He noticed the heat of your blush in his fingertips, he could feel you quiver, eager for him to close the distance.

"Please, just-" His lips were on yours before you could even answer. Your mind was fuzzy. All you could think about was how soft his lips were, how perfectly they fit with yours. His smell was everywhere, it was intoxicating.

He was intoxicating.

He hummed as your fingernails scratched the base of his neck. Leonard pressed you against the wall, desperate for some way to bring you closer. He couldn't remember how to breathe, how to think. All he could do was press his body against yours.

You sighed blissfully against his lips. His hands on your waist were your only anchor to the real world. You clung to him, crumpling his uniform, but you hardly cared. You just wanted him to keep kissing you.

Leonard suddenly remembered to breathe and pulled back, only to press his forehead against yours. Your breathing was shaky and your legs felt weak. You caressed his cheeks once more and placed another soft kiss to his lips, which turned to two, then five.

At last, Leonard pulled you into his chest. He didn't want to let you go just yet. You didn't want to let him go either.

"Darlin'?" He whispered.

"Hm?" You replied, face buried into his neck.

"I love you," Leonard kissed your temple. Your heart leaped in your chest and you held him a little tighter.

"I love you too Len," you whispered softly. Leonard smiled against your cheek and placed another kiss there. "Oh, and just so you know..." You started.

Leonard pulled back to look at you curiously.

"If I ever hear you call yourself damaged goods again, I will kick your ass." You grinned at him.

"Message heard loud and clear Lieutenant-Commander," he chuckled and captured your lips in another searing kiss. Leonard's communicator chimed in his pocket, but he ignored it. There was no code red, the captain could wait. After all, they could have been together by now if it weren't for him. There was a lot of lost time to make up.

[sleepymccoy]

This fic where I just force Spock and McCoy to make out for work reasons is so much fun still

-

McCoy pulled a stool out from under Spock’s bench. He often ended up on this stool; when things were quiet Spock tended to be up for a chat.

Spock was working now, though. Tapping away on his screen. McCoy leaned on the counter, watching Spock quietly. Spock glanced his way and tapped a physical button. The console McCoy was leaning on went dark, the soft buttons turning off. McCoy smiled.

“You had a button installed?” McCoy whispered.

Spock leaned slightly closer. “You once deleted two months of astronavigation data when you sat down. Took me hours to recover it.”

McCoy grinned. “Sorry,” he breathed. He swallowed. “And, Spock. About earlier- ”

Spock looked at him, something quite serious in his eyes.

McCoy let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean- ”

The screen came alive, filled with a view of a pale alien Bridge, full of people who looked quiet a lot like McCoy’s old jailor. Jim launched into conversation immediately, charm oozing out of him. While McCoy studied the faces to see if they were, by any chance, one of the few he’d already met Spock reached out and took his hand. McCoy looked at their joined hands, then up at Spock.

If you asked McCoy he’d say that he couldn’t read Spock. No one could! But, truthfully, he was usually pretty damned sure he knew what was going on in Spock’s mind. Often he thought he knew better than Spock himself. Not now, now he had no idea and it was a fairly unpleasant sensation.

Then Spock blinked. He glanced at McCoy’s mouth and licked his lips. Well, that was as good as speaking. McCoy accepted and leaned forwards, taking Spock’s cheek in hand, and kissed him gently in full view of the screen.

Spock deepened the kiss. His hand raised to McCoy’s throat, fingertips resting on his pulse. This seemed more than necessary, but McCoy was quickly falling into it, room full of colleagues notwithstanding. The world slowed around him, the frantic life of his body calmed and Spock’s tongue moved against McCoy’s lower lip.

And he knew how to kiss Spock by now. He nibbled a little bit and felt Spock’s hand twitch. He leaned in and licked, and was rewarded as Spock relaxed under him, taking the kiss as it came and returning with energy. And God that energy was miraculous, consuming.

link to chapter one

[440mxs-wife]

Written in the Stars

Pairing: Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy x F!Reader. Other Characters: Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura, Cmdr. Spock, Christine Chapel (mentioned).

Word Count: 8029

Warnings: Soulmates, show-level violence, Away Team member injury, mutual pining, a smidge of angst due to perceived unrequited love, but FLUFFFFF

Summary: When Dr. McCoy got married, he knew she wasn’t his soulmate, but it didn’t matter to him. After the divorce, he figures he’s missed his chance, due to his age and previous marriage. The Reader joins the crew as the new Science Officer aboard the Enterprise, assigned to Cmdr. Spock’s team. She hasn’t met her soulmate yet, but she seems drawn to a particular member of the Enterprise crew. Could these two lost soulmates have found each other at last?

A/N: If you’ve been tagged here, it’s because you’ve interacted one or more times on a McCoy story of mine, or we’re moots. Whether you like or reblog, I am eternally grateful for your support. If anyone else would like to be tagged on any future Karl Urban character postings, please let me know. Thank you, and enjoy the show!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dr. Leonard McCoy joined StarFleet and was assigned to the Enterprise after a few unfortunate events. He left for the five-year mission right after his divorce, having known full well that the woman he married wasn't his soulmate. It didn't matter though, because Leonard didn't believe in that stuff. He was impatient, not interested in living alone anymore, therefore not waiting to find his soulmate. At the time, he'd loved Jocelyn enough to marry her. Only she didn't love him enough to want to stay married to him, or so she'd said.

Of course he had his soulmark, just like everyone he knew had one, with his shaped like a starburst and visible on his wrist. At his age, though, he felt that he should have met his person by now, the one he was destined to be with forever. So after the fiasco with Jocelyn, he'd stopped looking, figuring he'd missed his chance. Which is precisely when his soulmate appeared, and where he least expected it.

The Enterprise was making a scheduled stop at Starbase 42 to pick up supplies and some new crew members. Capt. Kirk had sent over the files, which Dr. McCoy decided to review before the ship reached its destination. Most of them looked pretty routine, a couple of ensigns for Engineering, three for Security. Then there was your file.

According to your bio, you were to be assigned to the Science Department, under Cmdr. Spock. You had been in StarFleet for a bit longer than the average crew member, and had risen to the rank of Lieutenant-Commander (LCmdr.). However, to Dr. McCoy, that only meant you carried a wealth of life experience with you. The only family you had left were your two brothers, each with their own families, and a best friend who became more like your sister.

Leonard glanced at the clock and noticed it was time to head to the transporter room to greet the new additions to the crew. Though the information in your file was fairly standard, Leonard couldn't help but give yours a bit more attention than the others. It was like he was drawn to it, wanting to dive into it and find out all there was to know about you. He arrived at the transporter room and walked in, finding Capt. Kirk and the other officers waiting. "All right, Jim. I'm here, so let's get this show on the road," he grumbled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the shimmering light-particles of the transport beam disappeared, you had re-materialized aboard the Enterprise. It was your dream assignment, to be on StarFleet's flagship, and you looked forward to working with Cmdr. Spock. And of course, you were excited to be serving with Capt. James T. Kirk, one of the most decorated and colorful captains in StarFleet. But almost as soon as you appeared on the pad, you felt a pull in another direction, something you hadn't experienced before.

Once everyone had arrived, the captain introduced himself and the other commanding officers. Your companions handed over their orders, then exited the transporter room to be shown to their quarters. You stepped forward and handed your paperwork to Capt. Kirk and introduced yourself in the process.

"At ease, Commander," Kirk smiled. "We're a little less formal and bit more family around here, not that I don't run a tight ship," he explained.

"Of course not, Captain, and thank you. I'm honored to be here," you responded.

"Your credentials are impressive, Commander," Spock commented. "I am looking forward to working with you."

"I'm fortunate to be on your team, Cmdr. Spock. Thank you," you acknowledged before turning your attention to the dark-haired man in the blue medical uniform. He was standing off to the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. As you took in his appearance, his furrowed brow seemed to relax and you felt that same pull as when you first arrived.

Your silent observance of the man by the door did not escape Capt. Kirk's notice. He walked over to where the man was standing and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Commander, this is our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy. Bones, say hello to our newest crew member," Kirk grinned.

You stuck your hand out in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. McCoy," you remarked.

"Likewise," he replied as he took your hand and shook it. The instant your hand touched Dr. McCoy's hand, a jolt of electricity shot up your arm. It surprised you, but you kept your hand in his. What the hell was that? he thought. Instead, he inquired aloud, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, sure, everything's fine, Dr. McCoy. I'm kind of a little nervous. May I be shown to my quarters, please?" you asked.

"Right this way, Commander," Spock gestured with his arm for you to precede him out the door.

When you reached the doorway, you popped your head back inside and caught Dr. McCoy's attention. "By the way, hope to see you around, Dr. McCoy," you winked and left the transporter room.

"So, that was inter--" Kirk started.

"Jim, no comment necessary," McCoy muttered. Despite his gruff reply, there was the ghost of a smile on his face, thanks to the Enterprise's new science officer. Interesting indeed, he thought.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Once inside your quarters, you started to unpack your bags. You hung up your uniforms in the closet and arranged your toiletries in the bathroom. The rest of your personal items were placed throughout your room. You were surveying your work when you heard a chime at the door.

Your visitor introduced herself as Nyota Uhura, Communications Officer. While you unpacked, she perched on the end of your bed and you got to know each other. She brought you up to speed on herself and life on the Enterprise.

The topic came around to your personal lives, Uhura mentioned that she and Cmdr. Spock discovered they were soulmates a few years ago. "What about you? Have you met your soulmate yet?" she asked.

"Sadly, no, not yet. But I hope my posting here will put me closer to finding out who it is," you replied, thinking back to your electrifying encounter with Dr. McCoy.

"Oh, really?" Uhura was leaning forward, her curiosity piqued. "Who do you think it is?" she wondered.

"Hmm, not sure, but I've been having this certain feeling, like whoever it may be, he's here onboard this ship. Add that to one of the many reasons I'm glad I'm here," you chuckled.

"Well, we're glad to have you. There's a 'Welcome to the Enterprise' party going on later in the recreation area. It's a chance for us to get to know you all, and for you to mingle with the senior officers," Uhura mentioned.

"Sounds great, I'll be there. Um, about what time?" you inquired.

"I believe the captain said it'll be getting started at 1900 hrs.," Uhura replied, then checked the time. "Oops, I'm supposed to be meeting Spock in a few minutes. See you later at the party?" she asked.

"You bet, I'll probably see if I can take a quick power nap before then. Want to be well-rested before meeting up with everyone so I don't say the wrong thing," you replied nervously.

"I understand that, but don't worry. Everything will be fine, and I already have a feeling you and I are going to be great friends," Uhura remarked as she walked to the door.

"Thank you, and I'll see you later," you called. Once Uhura left, you crawled into your bed and settled in for a nap. You made sure to set an alarm to give yourself time to get ready for the party, then closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back in his quarters, Dr. McCoy was reviewing some information on his PADD when his door chimed. At first, he ignored it, because he rarely had visitors and didn't want to be disturbed. When it chimed again, he rolled his eyes and strode to the door. He opened it, only to find Capt. Kirk on the other side, grinning from ear to ear. "What do you want, Jim? I was in the middle of something important when you interrupted me," he bristled.

"Hey, Bones, good to see you," Kirk replied as he breezed past his friend and plopped into a chair.

"Make yourself at home, Jim, by all means," McCoy stated dryly. "Whatever it is, the answer is no."

"Wanted to drop by and let you know there's a 'Welcome to the Enterprise' party for all the senior officers to mingle with the newbies. Now I know none of them are medical, but it would be nice if you'd put in an appearance. By the way, that new one on Spock's team was pretty cute, wasn't she?" Kirk asked.

"Jim, I haven't got time for this. Besides, what are we, in high school?" McCoy retorted.

Kirk shrugged. "Looks like the two of you shared a moment in the transporter room, that's all," he remarked.

McCoy rolled his eyes at Kirk's observation. "There was no 'moment', it was an introduction. Stop trying to make something out of nothing. Except it didn't feel like 'nothing' when our hands touched, he thought. "Look, I'll try to swing by, if I get a chance. Good enough?"

"That's the spirit, Bones! See you later," Kirk hastily replied, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder before bolting out of the room.

McCoy shook his head, then went back to where he'd left his PADD. He picked it up, intending to read, but instead stared off ahead, deep in thought. What would it hurt to show up for a drink or two? I suppose that would count as 'putting in an appearance', he reasoned with himself.

His mind made up, Leonard changed into a more casual attire of jeans with a hole in the right knee and a navy-blue Henley. He left the top two buttons undone and pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. He slipped on his well-worn dark brown cowboy boots and dabbed on some cologne before heading out the door to the rec area.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You entered the rec area a little after 1900 hrs., when Uhura said the party would be starting. As soon as you walked in, your eyes scanned the area for her or anyone else you recognized. Fortunately, the captain soon spotted you and waved you over to his table.

On your way to meet him, you wandered past a beautiful mahogany pool table with clawfoot legs. It was covered in blue felt and had leather nets under each of the six pockets to catch any one of the fifteen brightly colored orbs. Hmm, wonder who might be up for a game or two later, you thought as you ran your hands along the rails.

There were two open chairs on the captain's left side, one putting you next to him or, the other, Lt. Uhura. You chose to sit next to Uhura, who immediately stood to give you a hug and raved about your outfit. You were wearing jeans with a pastel purple, off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, along with your black suede ankle boots. Around your neck was a teardrop pendant of your birthstone on a delicate silver chain.

You were about halfway through your first margarita, when you heard a deep voice behind you ask, "Is this seat taken?"

Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Dr. McCoy standing behind you, a glass of bourbon in his hand. "Um, n-no, Dr. McCoy," you stammered. Way to go, you berated yourself with a mental facepalm.

"Relax, Commander," McCoy chuckled. "Please call me Leonard."

You gave him your name in return, stating it was better than being called "Commander" all the time. "Especially with so many of us around," you joked.

The captain finally noticed that Dr. McCoy had joined the table and taken the seat next to him. "Bones, you made it after all. Good to see you!" Capt. Kirk exclaimed.

"Why thank you, Jim, I was beginning to wonder if you were even going to notice," McCoy replied.

The doctor's nickname used by the captain did not escape your notice, but you filed it away to ask about later. "So, Leonard, tell me about where you're from," you started.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your conversation with Dr. McCoy stretched far into the evening, the two of you asking questions to better get to know each other. Eventually, your Q & A transitioned to the pool table for a friendly game of 8-ball. One by one, the others left the recreation area and returned to their quarters. Neither you nor Leonard noticed you were the only ones left until you were deep into your third game of pool, with you lining up your shot.

Standing up after watching the #15 roll into the corner pocket, you looked around at the empty recreation area. "Leonard, what time is it?" you asked.

He checked the time and was surprised at the hour as well as the deserted room. "It's after midnight. Guess time really does fly when you're having fun," he grinned. "Your shot, darlin'," he drawled. You noticed his Southern accent was a bit more pronounced after a few rounds of bourbon.

"Okay, but after I knock in this #12, I'm on the 8-ball," you smirked. You took your time to survey all the angles before settling in to take your shot. With a smooth, fluid stroke, the cue ball connected with the object ball, which went in the side pocket. The 8-ball was of little challenge to you as well, sailing into the exact pocket you intended.

"Well, I guess that's the game, then," McCoy remarked. You gave him a small curtsy before placing your cue stick on the table and returning to finish your drink. "Where'd you learn to play like that?" he wondered.

"Had a pool table in the basement growing up. I used to spend quite a few hours a day, practicing until I was good enough to win against my brothers and all their friends. Then I met my best friend at the Academy, and we took turns, um, how shall I say this? Oh, yeah. Separating the new recruits from their money," you grinned sheepishly.

Leonard threw his head back and laughed. "You are full of surprises. Which leads me to my next question, and feel free to punch me for it if you want, but I have to know. How is someone as lovely and fascinating as you are still single?"

You felt your cheeks grow warm with the compliment. "Well, I won't punch you for asking a question like that. The simple answer is, I haven't found my soulmate yet."

McCoy gave you a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised. "You believe in that? One person, one heart, all that?" he wondered.

"Sure I do, don't you?" you replied. "I mean, a person as handsome and charming as you isn't attached to anyone either. Why is that, if you don't mind me asking?" you quizzed.

"I don't mind you asking, darlin'," he replied, then took a sip of his drink. "I was married once, but it didn't take. At the time, I loved her, and even though she wasn't my soulmate, I didn't care. I was too impatient in my youth and didn't want to be alone the rest of my life, so we got married. When I came onboard here, I was fresh off my divorce. When I met Jim, I told him that my ex got everything, and 'all I got left is my bones'. Probably why he calls me that," he muttered.

"Hmm. And here I thought it was because you were in the medical field. You know, a doctor used to be called a 'sawbones', I figured that's where it came from," you quipped.

"I guess it could go either way, although your explanation is a little less depressing," Leonard conceded.

You reached over and covered his hand with yours, trying to ignore the small spark at the contact. "Your soulmate is still out there, waiting to be found. I'm just sure of it," you remarked.

McCoy gave you a hopeful smile. "You think so? I guess I figured that with my age and jumping the gun and marrying Jocelyn, that I missed my chance," he replied.

"What do you mean, 'with my age', you're hardly an old man, Leonard. Besides, I'm betting that you haven't missed your chance, so keep the faith," you winked. "Come on, Doc, it's late. Walk me to my quarters?" you asked.

McCoy drained the last of the bourbon from his glass and stood up from the table. His grin grew wider as he held out his elbow for you to take. "Shall we, shweethahrt?" he said in his attempt at a Bogart impression.

You laughed as you looped your arm through his, and he tucked it in closed to his side. "Leonard, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," you answered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And it was. At first it was you and Dr. McCoy, two friends sharing breakfast together on most, if not all, mornings. Sometimes the captain, or Spock and Uhura would be there, which made for lively discussions. But you were most content with the days it was just you and the good doctor enjoying each other's company.

It wasn't just the mornings, you took turns hanging out in each other's quarters, watching old movies or reading together. Other times, it was sharing stories about your lives, your families, even your Academy days. Being with Leonard was a comfort for you, a natural and easy friendship to fall into.

The first time you noticed your thoughts wandering from friendship to more was one night you were cooking dinner in McCoy's quarters. Your room was not equipped with a kitchenette, only a replicator, so Leonard offered to let you in to his to make dinner. He had some last-minute duties in the MedBay, but said he would join you later.

You were putting the finishing touches on your Cheesy Chicken and Broccoli casserole to put into the oven, when Leonard strode through the door. He stood behind you, put his hands on your shoulders and glanced down at the dish. "That looks amazing, sweetheart," he grinned and gave your shoulders a squeeze before heading to the showers.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn't help but notice how domestic the whole scene was, and how comfortable it all felt. Leonard coming home to you after a difficult day in the MedBay, to see you making dinner. Of course, it could also just as easily be the other way around, with him in the kitchen, waiting for you to come home. Then you shook your head to clear those thoughts. Although the two of you had become best friends, that still kept you in the "friend zone", right?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Leonard reached for his towel to dry himself off after his shower. Coming back to his quarters to see you in his kitchen was a comforting sight to see, not to mention how natural it felt. Like it had been that way for years instead of the months since you'd gotten to know each other. Lately, there was many a night he'd lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you were having as much trouble sleeping as he was.

Ever since he met you in the transporter room, Leonard knew there was something different about you, but couldn't put his finger on it. That night the two of you spent in the rec area at Jim's "welcome" party was one of the best he'd had in a long time. Sitting and talking with someone, finding out you had like interests and similar values was refreshing for him. You were sweet, intelligent, and you made him laugh, something his friends thought he needed more of in his life.

Most of his time was spent in the MedBay, caring for others, but there were times when he wanted someone to care for him. You certainly fit the bill for that as well, such as when you stopped by with a coffee for him on one of your breaks. Or when you sneaked into his office to hide scraps of paper with jokes written on them to make him chuckle. And your home cooking was some of the best he'd had since the last time he visited his ma on Earth.

There were dozens of reasons why and multiple occasions when he wished there was more than friendship between you. However, after his experience with marriage to Jocelyn, he was a little hesitant to pursue anything beyond friendship with you. Jim would probably say he was "spooked", whereas Leonard would counter that he was "protecting his heart".

Early on, you'd admitted to him that you believed in soulmates and were still looking for yours. He'd been down the road once where he ignored the concept, if only to avoid being alone for the rest of his life. You deserved that one person, that one heart that Fate had decided truly belonged with you. He'd never want you to settle for a life with him if he wasn't your soulmate. Thus, he continued to keep things with you in the "friend zone".

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of weeks later

"You want me to do what, now?" you asked the Captain.

"I know you heard me, Commander," Kirk replied. "It's a few weeks until Valentine's Day, and I think it would be a great idea to have a celebration. Music, food, drinks....and you dancing with a certain country doctor would certainly be all the entertainment I'd need for a while," he smirked.

You, on the other hand, rolled your eyes at his obvious matchmaking attempts. "Jim, we're just friends. And I resent your insinuation that Dr. McCoy would want anything to do with me beyond that," you retorted.

"Why is that so hard to believe, that Bones would be interested in you as more than a friend?" Jim persisted.

"Because...." you murmured, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap.

"'Because....' why?" he gently prodded.

You huffed in exasperation. "Because I'm me, and he's....handsome, witty, fascinating, charismatic and could have any woman in the universe he wants. I've seen him at those diplomatic functions, Jim. Women more or less throwing themselves at him, hanging all over him and what does he do? He just smiles at them and turns on the Southern charm. Soulmate or not, what chance do I have," you whispered.

"Wait, he's your soulmate? How do you know? More importantly, why haven't you told him?" Kirk peppered you with questions.

"You're just full of curiosity today, aren't you?" you sassed. "I saw his soulmark on his wrist, and it matches mine here." You tilted your head and pulled your hair back to reveal a matching starburst behind your left ear. "I've been in love with him since that 'welcome' thing you arranged, when we talked and shot rack after rack of 8-ball till after midnight. But I want him to love me for me, not due to some pre-destined, matching tattoo on our bodies."

Kirk stepped out from behind his desk and took the chair next to you. "Listen. I've been friends with the man for a long time. I've seen him at those diplomatic galas, and let me tell you that I haven't seen him look at any of those women the way he looks at you," he explained.

"Now I know you're out of your mind," you snorted. When Kirk tried to protest, you held up your hands. "Stop. Okay? I'll do as you ask, plan your little Valentine's Day party for the crew. It's a nice idea, and I think we're due for some fun around here. Just please quit trying to push me and Dr. McCoy together, huh?" you pleaded.

Kirk reached over and sandwiched your hand in his. "Although I know I'm right, I will honor your wishes and stop forcing the issue with you and Bones. Fair enough?" he asked.

You nodded and stood up from your chair. "Yes, thank you, Jim. I appreciate it. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my quarters, trying to figure out how to put this thing together," you replied. You gave him a weary smile before exiting his Ready Room.

Jim waited until you were out of his office before voicing his thoughts. "I may have agreed to honor your wishes, but that doesn't mean I can't go at it from Bones' point of view," he vowed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following week, you were busy transforming one of the large, rarely-used conference rooms Jim set aside for you into a sea of red, white and pink. There were pink paper hearts attached to the walls, along with red cutouts shaped like Cupid with his bow. The long conference tables would be used for food and drinks, and were set up along the outside edge of the room.

You were scanning through the food and drink list on your PADD when Leonard walked in. A bright smile graced your face at the sight of your best friend. "Why, hello Len! What brings you here?"

Leonard scanned the room before answering. "So this is the 'secret project' you've been working on for the past week," he replied. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I started in the lab, then I checked your room. Had to ask the ship's computer for your location," he remarked.

"Yeah, sorry, Jim put me in charge of this, so here I am. And it's not a 'secret project', as you called it. We have all these decorations and the tables will be full of drinks and all kinds of foods," you explained. "While we're on the subject, I have something to ask you, Leonard."

"Oh? What's that?" he wondered.

"Well, this is going to be kind of a formal, dressing-up kind of thing. And there'll be music and dancing, so I was wondering....if you'd like to go with me....as my date?" you asked.

Leonard froze. A date? he thought. His heart wanted very much to take you up on your offer to accompany you to the party. He could picture you all dressed up in a formal gown and your hair perfectly styled, a veritable vision of beauty. His next mental picture was of the two of you walking into the party with your arm safely tucked into his side. His brain, however, reminded him that this was a Valentine's Day dance, and you two were not romantic partners, only friends.

You must have heard his brain's internal reminder loud and clear and interpreted his hesitation as a decline of your invitation. "You know what, never mind. It's all right. Forget I asked," you backpedaled. "I'm sure you have much more important things to do than go to a stupid dance with me," you muttered as you gathered your PADD and other supplies.

"Wait a minute, where are you going?" McCoy implored.

"Uh, I forgot I told Cmdr. Spock that I would come into the lab later and see if I can make some more progress on my assignment," you explained. "So, I'm sorry, but I can't meet you for dinner tonight, Dr. McCoy," you added, then hurriedly left the room without a backwards glance.

Leonard stood gazing at the floor, hands on his hips and shaking his head. As he stood in place, he was trying to figure out what just happened and how he knew he had to fix it. Uhura was watching your interaction with Dr. McCoy since he joined you, so she walked over to him. She placed a hand on his arm to get his attention. "Dr. McCoy, are you all right?" she asked.

He looked over to see the concern in Uhura's eyes. "I....I don't know," he rasped. "I think I made a huge mistake with her and I may need your help."

She led him over to one of the chairs, where he filled her in on his conversation with you. Uhura listened intently, waiting for him to finish providing as much information as he was willing to share. When he finished, she was silent as she thought about her response. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to say the first thing that comes to your mind." McCoy nodded. "Are you in love with her?"

"Yes," he immediately answered.

"As a friend, or more than a friend?" Uhura asked.

"More," McCoy hastily replied. A startled look crossed his face at the realization. "I'm in love with her," he whispered. "But she said she was still looking for her soulmate, and I don't know what her soulmark looks like or where it is."

"Dr. McCoy," Uhura gently chided. "Do you really need visual confirmation of her soulmark to know that you belong together? From that first night, everyone could see it, based on how the two of you looked at each other, how you interacted. How long did it take you to realize that everyone had left?" she giggled.

McCoy grinned. "We didn't really notice much of anything outside of ourselves until after midnight. She'd just beaten me two games out of three at 8-ball," he chuckled ruefully. "I have to find her and tell her," he declared as he hastily stood up.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. I don't know if now is the best time to tell her," Uhura warned, taking his arm to stop him.

"Wha--why shouldn't I tell her right away how I feel about her?" McCoy asked, confused.

"She may not be in the right frame of mind to hear it right now. Think about, Dr. McCoy. She gathered up her courage to ask you to be her date to the dance. When you hesitated to answer, her brain told her not only was your answer 'no', but that you didn't reciprocate her feelings. That's why she bolted out of here, she was trying to protect herself from embarrassment, from her heart being broken any further. Give her some time, then try and talk with her again," Uhura advised.

"How long should I give her?" McCoy asked.

"Try again after a couple of days, Doctor. She should be ready to talk by then," Uhura replied, gently patting his arm.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You checked your notes again, frustrated that the data was not matching up with the results. Irritated, you pushed away from the table and flopped onto a chair. You closed your eyes as your fingers massaged your temples, trying to stave off the impending headache.

"Are you all right, Lieutenant?" Cmdr. Spock asked. "It is late, and I have observed that your evenings are usually spent with Dr. McCoy. May I ask why you are here instead, working?"

You took a deep breath. "I'm fine, Cmdr. Spock. Just trying to keep my headache at bay, that's all," you replied, managing a weak smile.

"If you are feeling a pain in your head, I am certain Dr. McCoy can relieve it with a hypospray," Spock suggested.

"Not when he's the cause of the headache," you muttered.

A puzzled look crossed Spock's face. "I do not understand. Is there some sort of problem in your relationship with Dr. McCoy?" he inquired.

You took a deep breath before explaining the events of the afternoon, beginning with Capt. Kirk's assignment of the Valentine's dance. Then you told him about asking Leonard to be your date for the dance, and how mortified you were when he declined your request. "The only relationship I have with Dr. McCoy is one of friendship. Though my feelings for him have gone beyond the friend level, I should have known better that his do not, and likely never will."

"To assume that Dr. McCoy does not think of you as more than a friend without his express verbal confirmation is not logical," Spock replied. "You must ask him how he feels about you."

"Since when are the human heart's desires logical? Anyway, I'm sure I've already embarrassed myself enough for one day. Permission to return to my quarters?" you asked.

"Permission granted, Lieutenant. I sincerely hope that your personal difficulties with Dr. McCoy will soon be resolved," Spock offered. "It is also not logical for two people as compatible as the two of you to be separated."

"Thank you, Commander," you remarked. "For your counsel and your understanding." You gave him a small smile, then left the lab.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had almost reached your quarters when the captain requested you to come to his Ready Room. "On my way, Captain," you replied, tapping your communication badge. In your head you grumbled that you hoped his request had something to do with real work and nothing to do with Dr. McCoy.

In the captain's office, you were briefed on an upcoming Away mission, in which you would play a part. A fairly routine mission, you were tasked with gathering soil and mineral samples that would be catalogued upon returning to the Enterprise.

The area where your team would be working had been declared as deserted. That meant you would not be at risk of encountering any difficulties from any local inhabitants of the planet. All in all, a good mission to help me gain experience as part of an Away Team, you thought as you stepped onto the transporter pad.

You also hoped that going on this mission would also help you sort out your feelings about Leonard and figure out your next move. As much as you didn't want to, you were going to have to distance yourself from him. It'll only be for a couple of days, you reasoned. When I get back, Len and I should probably have a talk about what happened and what it means for us going forward. Decision made, you picked up your PADD and reviewed the parameters of the Away mission.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For the past two days, the MedBay environment was not the most pleasant place to be. Dr. McCoy had been more demanding and grumpier than usual. His staff had no idea that his thoughts revolved around you and how badly he needed to talk to you. He was trying to do as Uhura suggested, by giving you time to yourself. When he could no longer wait to speak to you and confess his feelings, he put Dr. M'Benga in charge and left the MedBay to find you.

He checked your quarters first, but when there was no answer, he figured either you weren't there, or you knew it was him and didn't want to answer. He left and headed down to the conference room, but no one there had seen you for the past couple of days. Finally, he tried the lab, praying to find you there. When he asked Spock where you were, nothing could've prepared him for the answer he received.

"What do you mean, she's on the Away Team?" McCoy demanded.

"I should think my response is fairly self-explanatory, Doctor," Spock replied.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "She's not ready for an Away mission yet, anything could go wrong down there!" he exclaimed.

"On the contrary, the Commander has proven to be more than competent in performing her duties. The captain and I felt that this relatively low-risk mission was the perfect one to introduce her to this aspect of her duties," Spock explained.

"Since when does something deemed 'low-risk' ever turn out that way? You don't understand, Spock, I can't lose her," McCoy implored. "Not before I've had a chance to tell her I love her," he whispered.

A faint smile graced Spock's features. "It appears I was correct in my theory regarding your feelings towards her," he answered. His tone that could almost be considered smug, if not for the fact that he was half-Vulcan. At the confused look on Leonard's face, Spock relayed the conversation the two of you had after he'd found you in the lab working.

"So she cares about me like I care about her," McCoy murmured. "What time are they scheduled to be back? I have to be there right when she gets back so I can tell her how I feel. I've already wasted too much time," he muttered, then jumped up from his chair. Before he could walk out of the lab, Capt. Kirk was at the door.

"Good, you're both here. The Away Team is returning to the ship ahead of schedule. It appears that they ran into some problems on the planet's surface. Something about a run-in with a band of native inhabitants," Kirk explained. "Possible weapons discharges and there may be injuries," he reluctantly revealed.

"StarFleet's report stated that the area in which the Away Team would be working was declared as deserted," Spock pointed out. "There should have been no reason for any discharge of weapons."

"You see?? This is exactly what I was talking about, Spock!" McCoy exclaimed, his arms waving in the air. "How could you send her down there, Jim? She's not ready for something like this," McCoy snapped.

"I chose the team based on their skills and how it matched the intel we were given. Do you really believe I like putting people I care about in harm's way??" Kirk retorted sharply. "I have a job to do, but so do the two of you. And right now, the Away Team is depending on you to carry out those duties to the best of your ability. The personal stuff can be sorted out later, all right?" Kirk barked. "For now, let's just get everyone home and safe."

Spock and McCoy nodded and each of them went their separate ways to begin assisting in the missions aftermath. Kirk was on his way back to the bridge, while Spock was gathering his equipment. "Captain?" McCoy called out before Kirk had fully exited the lab.

"What is it, Bones?" Kirk asked wearily.

McCoy walked over to join his captain at the door. "I'll be in the MedBay, standing by for any casualties," he replied, then started down the hall.

"Thank you, Doctor. And Bones?" Kirk added, causing McCoy to turn and catch Kirk's gaze. "She'll be all right. Besides, you probably owe her a dance, right?" he smirked.

"Among other things, Jim," McCoy admitted before finally resuming his path to the MedBay.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When McCoy returned to the MedBay, it was a flurry of activity. The casualties had already arrived, only three of whom were being worked on by multiple teams. Head Nurse Christine Chapel met him near the entrance to give him a PADD with a rundown of the injuries. He had just started scanning the list when he heard, "DOCTOR!! Dr. McCoy, we need you over here!!"

McCoy all but sprinted to BioBed #3 and was shocked at the sight before him. You were the injured party, with a stab wound to your left shoulder that had seemed to stop bleeding. There was a moderate head laceration near your hairline, but its bleeding also looked to be under control. However, it was the 6-inch gash across your stomach that was of utmost concern, because it was still steadily leaking blood.

"Oh darlin'," McCoy whispered as he pushed your hair back from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

"Hey, Dr. McCoy," you rasped, which sent you into a minor coughing fit.

"Shh, take it easy, sugar. We're going to take good care of you, get you all patched up good as new," he soothed.

"Len....'m sorry....about earlier," you wheezed but were thrown into another coughing session. "Ow, it hurts," you whimpered.

"Hold on, sweetheart, I'll get ya something to take away the hurt," McCoy promised. One of the nurses promptly handed him the hypospray containing the pain med. Leonard gently rolled your head to the side for better access to your neck. He pushed your hair out of the way and pressed the hypospray to your skin and delivered the pain medication.

When McCoy withdrew the instrument, he was startled when he saw your soulmark behind your left ear, a starburst that matched the mark on his wrist. It was you. You were his soulmate, the one he should've waited for and he was the one you were waiting for. As he stood next to you, he felt the bond between you grow, as it sent a wave of warmth through his body.

You somehow found his hand and took it in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before dropping it. The movement and seeing your hand hang limply at your side was enough to snap Leonard back into action and tend to your injuries. "All right, let's get this bleeding stopped so we can close up this gash and clean up these other wounds," McCoy ordered, getting back to the task at hand.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For some reason, you couldn't move your right hand due to some sort of weight on top of it. You were having a hard time opening your eyes as well, though you did manage to crack them open halfway. There was an IV in your left arm and as for your right side, you smiled when you saw a familiar crop of dark hair. Leonard was hunched over the edge of your bed, his head resting on his elbows and covering your hand. You could only imagine how tired he must be after the events of the past few hours.

The Away mission was your first since you came aboard the Enterprise, and not exactly the low-risk scenario as mentioned in the file. The briefing said the area had been declared uninhabited, but the natives you encountered proved otherwise. Some of their weapons were rudimentary by StarFleet's standards, while others looked confiscated from other unsuspecting visitors.

You were the first to be attacked, by a stab to your left shoulder and blow to the head, then all hell broke loose. The wound in your midsection was caused when you stepped in to defend a fellow crew member. You were relieved when you saw the familiar surroundings of the MedBay, and even more relaxed when Leonard's face appeared. However, you'd have given anything to take away the pain and worry you saw in his eyes as he hovered above you, assessing your injuries.

Gingerly, you felt around on the bed for the call button, not wanting to disturb the doctor sleeping at your side. Your slight movement caused him to lift his head and for his eyes to immediately zero in on yours. A sleepy yet relieved smile graced his face as he slowly reached up with his right hand to cup your cheek. "Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," you whispered back. "How long have I been out?"

"About twelve hours," he answered. "You had me worried there, sweetheart," he murmured. "I thought I wasn't going to get the chance to tell you something very important."

"I'm here now, though. What is it you wanted to tell me?" you asked. You shuffled around in your bed, trying to raise yourself to a more upright position. Leonard saw what you were doing and helped to rearrange the pillows and angle of the bed to where you wanted it.

Leonard returned in his chair and pointed it so that he was gazing directly at you. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Ever since Jim handed me your file, I knew there was something special about you. I felt it when we shook hands in that transporter room, and I think you felt it too," he replied.

You nodded. "Felt like electricity shooting up my arm," you smiled.

"Exactly. The more I got to know you through the time we spent together, the more I believed in the idea of a soulmate. I only dared to hope you were mine. I saw the mark behind your ear, so now I know you that are the one I belong with in this life. Even without that, darlin', I fell for you anyway. Your kindness, generosity, your gentle spirit and so many more reasons are why I love you," Leonard remarked.

You could've been knocked back unconscious with a feather. Of all things you thought would happen when you woke up, a love confession from Leonard wasn't anywhere near the list. Although it made you happy to hear that he loved you in return, there was also a part of you that was having doubts.

Leonard mentioned that he'd seen your soulmark, and that he'd fallen for you anyway. Jim knew about the matching marks, and how you wanted Leonard to love you for who you were, not some cosmic tattoo. You'd put your heart on the line once when you asked him to the dance, and it didn't end well. Did you dare take that kind of chance again?

"Sweetheart, please say something," he implored hoarsely.

"Guess this means you owe me a dance?" you replied with a watery smile, as you decided to take the leap. "Len, of course I love you, and not because of some mark put on us by Fate. You are the one I've been searching for, and you're well worth waiting for."

That was all the confirmation Leonard needed, and more. He stood up from his chair and walked around to the left side of your bed. You scooted over a bit to leave room for him to sit on the edge of your mattress. Leonard placed a hand on either side of your face and tilted your head up to meet his gaze. As his left thumb gently caressed your cheek, you latched your hands to his wrists, with your finger tracing over his soulmark.

Leonard leaned his head towards you, tenderly brushing his lips over yours at first, then returning with more passion. His soft yet insistent lips moved with determination, expressing the depth of his emotions for you. When he nipped at your bottom lip, you gasped in surprise, creating the perfect opening for him to slip his tongue in to explore your mouth. Your sweet sound of pleasure that escaped seemed only to spur him on.

The kiss broke before the alarms could be set off on the BioBed for your elevated heart rate or any other escalated vital signs. Leonard leaned back slightly to give himself and you a chance to catch your breaths. He gingerly brushed the hair back from your face and tucked it behind your ear. "So beautiful," he whispered.

"And all yours," you whispered back. Your hand drifted up for your fingers to run through his dark locks, your nails scratching his scalp. The gesture earned you a deep sigh from him and he closed his eyes in contentment. "Have been for a while now, you know," you added. "I love you, Leonard McCoy."

Leonard opened his eyes and smiled softly. "And I'm all yours, my body and soul belongs to you. I love you too, sweetheart," he remarked as he touched his forehead to yours.

The two of you stayed like that, holding each other, until the sound of a throat being cleared broke the silence. Leonard turned his head slightly then rolled his eyes at seeing Capt. Kirk and Cmdr. Spock. The captain wore a look of smug satisfaction at seeing his two friends finally getting together. On the other hand, Spock's face held a look of concern about your recovery from your injuries.

"Guess you can't outrun Fate, can you, Bones?" Kirk crowed. "Seriously, though. I'm happy for you two," he winked.

Spock turned to you. "It would seem that you have received sufficient confirmation of Dr. McCoy's feelings towards you, correct?" he asked.

"Complete confirmation, Spock," you answered. "Did you come to gloat too, or was there something else you needed?" you inquired.

"Vulcans do not gloat. I am merely checking up on the health of one of my team members. It is fortunate that Dr. McCoy was able to successfully treat your injuries and put you on the road to recovery," Spock observed.

"Fortunate indeed," you concurred. Off to the side, you spied Uhura making her way to your bedside under what looked like quite a head of steam.

"I leave you two alone for five minutes, and you're down here causing trouble. Hi there honey, Dr. McCoy," Uhura greeted you and Leonard. Her words to you and Leonard were in direct contrast to those she aimed at Kirk and Spock. "All right, these two need their rest, so off you go. Bye sweetie," she winked. After your friends exited the MedBay, you and Dr. McCoy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Never want to be on her bad side," Leonard quipped. "Alone at last," he murmured, brushing the back of his knuckles on your cheek.

"Just the two of us now," you replied. You shuffled over further in your bed to make room for Leonard. He settled in next to you, curling his arm around you and guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. You slung your arm around his midsection and snuggled into his warm embrace. "Sweet dreams, Len. I love you," you mumbled.

"Goodnight, my love," he whispered, kissing your temple and closing his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @marvelouslytrekking @spacedancer1701 @anna-phora @hailbop1701 @writercole @lassie-bird @huffle-pissed @phoenixisred @wayward-dreamer @erindiggory @strangesgirl @dumpsterhippie @genevablog26 @lokis-deares @medicatemedrmccoy​

[muirmarie]

McSpirk hear thoughts 👀👀👀

this is the one I've probably posted most about on here, but not since last year - this is supposed to be my blank space for my mcspirk bingo card, and there's a lot of stuff about it here - basically magic-science shenanigans happen, and Spock and McCoy can suddenly hear each other's thoughts - but both of them think such nice thoughts about each other that they literally cannot address it, and without discussing it they both start lying/heavily implying that they're fighting in their thoughts (Kirk, of course, sees right through them).

This is also not a tight POV on one character (a tight POV on one character is like the only thing I've written for years now) so we'll see how that goes, lollllllll

__________

“I'm not trying to intrude, Doctor,” Spock says.

McCoy snorts. “I'm sure by now you can tell that I'm a little more worried about intruding on you than the fact that I suddenly can't keep a secret worth a damn, although let me have the pleasure of saying out loud how very unhappy I am with that situation, as well.”

“Want to fill in the spectator?” Kirk asks. His eyes are narrowed, and McCoy can see the gears going behind Kirk's eyes. You already know the answer, too, don't you, Jimmy, he thinks. Out of the corner of his eye, McCoy can see Spock raise an eyebrow, but McCoy just bounces lightly on the balls of his feet.

“Nightmares,” he says.

Kirk purses his lips a little in thought. “We've been on enough away missions together—we've been in each others pockets, enough, Bones. You don't get nightmares.”

“I don't get nightmares when I'm sleeping around other people. Generally, I don't get nightmares that much alone, either. But,” he says, lifting his hand up to tick them off on his fingers, “high stress situations, feeling not in control, headaches—”

“Headaches?” Kirk cuts in, frowning.

“Somehow I don't think their alien tech was made with human brains in mind. It's fine, it's manageable, but when I put it together with everything else—”

“Nightmares,” Kirk says. McCoy nods, and then glances back at Spock, who's been watching their interplay.

“Bad enough he's got to hear whatever song is stuck in my head all day. Call me crazy, but I'd rather not subject anyone—even our dear Mr. Spock—to a front row view of my nightmares, especially while he's awake.”

“You are not going to continue to sedate yourself to sleep, Doctor,” Spock says. He says it like it's a fact, and McCoy briefly entertains the thought of Spock chasing him down the corridors to get his hypo.

Spock doesn't so much as twitch, but McCoy can see, suddenly, Spock's completion of the thought: Spock snatching the hypo from McCoy's hand, dropping it to the ground, and crushing it beneath his heel.

McCoy rolls his eyes. “I do happen to the Chief Medical Officer, Mr. Spock, so I think that means—”

“I think that means you've still got to listen to your Captain, Bones,” Kirk cuts in. “Spock's right.”

“Jim—”

“I do have an...” Kirk tips his head to the side, a half-smile chasing the movement, “an alternate suggestion, Bones.”

He's met by two identical (in intention, if not in looks) expressions: eyebrows raised, a faint trace of suspicion closely followed by so much trust that some days—most days—it could knock Kirk right off his feet if he let it.

“Well by all means,” McCoy says. “Lay it on us.”

“You're bunking with me,” Kirk says.

[spockanalia-archive]

Spockanalia #1: Star Drek

By Ruth Berman

Art by Sherna Comerford and Juanita Coulson

by Ruth Berman Reprinted from Pantopon #16 (FAPA) by permission of the author

On the Enterprise, Sulu ran his hands through the space which had been occupied a moment ago. "Captain?" he said. "Mr. Spock?" His panic increased as he counted empty spaces.

Captain James Kirk of the Starship Enterprise glared at the young man asleep in the middle of the room. "Where are we?" he demanded.

The question woke the sleeper. "In a dungeon. Beyond that I don't know. Who are you?"

Kirk introduced himself, Lieutenant Uhura, Mr. Spock, and Doctor McCoy.

"How do you do," said the stranger politely. "I'm the Coceytus." He rose and bowed.

The walls were littered with fragmentary murals: here a tournament, there an orgy, or a hunt, or a dance of satyrs, and dozens of bright-colored boats sailing the grey stone rivers between each scene. Dr. McCoy grinned as he found the Coceytus staring up at an orgy in the middle of one wall.

"There's a more imaginative one to your left in the top corner," he said.

The young man smiled at him. "No, I have more a literary interest." He pointed at a neat inscription covering a fat man's rear. The others joined him in trying to decipher it, but it was upside-down, and all any of them got was a mild attack of vertigo.

The Coceytus blinked and rubbed his forehead. Then he rose in the air, cartwheeling as he went, until he stood on the ceiling, his eyes level with the inscription, and his cloak spreading out beneath him like a storm cloud. He let his feet fall and dropped to the floor, where he stood gazing up at the inscription with a bemused expression.

"Well?" said Kirk.

"Well," he said slowly, "it's an ordinary dirty joke, told in the form of a Spenserian stanza. The names of the protagonists are given as Prince Arthur and Queen Gloriana, fairest Tanaquil."

McCoy snorted.

"However," he went on, "there's a phrase that may be the key to a spell to get us out of here: 'elf's or man's or neither's kiss.' It's just stuck in parenthetically, and it doesn't make any sense in context, except, of course, that it rhymes with 'piss.' Lieutenant Uhura, may I kiss you?"

She was silent, dark face impassive, as she unwound his line of thought. "Very well."

He kissed her lips gently, ran to the door, and shoved it. It moved about half an inch and thumped on its lock. The Coceytus rubbed his bruised arm.

"Not very successful," McCoy commented.

"No. Would one of you humans care to try?"

"Are you serious about this?" Kirk asked.

"Oh, yes." He looked at the skeptical faces and laughed. "It's not all that uncommon—you have to remember that magic is science in this world. It's a standard sort of spell."

"All right." Kirk put his arms around Uhura and kissed her firmly.

"Perfectionist," McCoy muttered to himself. "On the other hand, he's probably never kissed her before. Jim doesn't sleep with officers."

One slanting eyebrow slanted higher on Spock's face, and McCoy suddenly remembered the Vulcan's acute hearing. He looked at Spock questioningly. "Your diagnosis is probably correct," Spock said.

"Still locked," the Coceytus announced. "I guess we're stuck. We don't have any elves around."

"What are you?" said Uhura.

"Me? Why, I'm—I suppose it depends on the definition. I was thinking of Spenser's elves—or was it green and yellow creatures sitting on a buttercup I had in mind? Well, that would still leave us needing someone neither elf nor human."

McCoy looked at the ceiling. Uhura looked at her feet, and Kirk looked at Spock. The Coceytus considered all the glances carefully. "I see," he said. "Mr. Spock?"

Spock returned Kirk's glance for a moment, then pulled Uhura to him. McCoy took his gaze off the ceiling.

"Open," the Coceytus said, some moments later.

"Don't I get a turn?" said McCoy plaintively. "Oh, well," he added, "sorry we couldn't find a more Prince Charming sort of neither-nor for you, Uhura."

"Mr. Spock is quite satisfactory," she said calmly as she hurried out the door.

"No accounting for tastes," sighed McCoy, and ran to catch up to them.

They followed the Coceytus down a long corridor, dimly lit by rows of small blue lights set in the floor. The inverted shadows cast up on their faces distorted their looks. Kirk felt as if he was in a pack of monsters and had to fight the impulse to run and get away from the beasts.

The corridor ended, and three narrower corridors branched off from it. They stopped, uncertain which way to go. The Coceytus peered down each one, snuffing the chilly air. The little group pulled together in a cluster at the end of the corridor, hemmed in by a cage on one side and a large roll-top desk at the other. The cage held a stinking creature, something like a small dragon, so far as they could see it. Although it was asleep, they drew away from it and pressed up against the desk. Its surface was hidden by a mass of books, three jars of herbs, a row of quill pens in a stand, a half-written parchment, a plaster bust, and an inkwell full of a golden liquid that gave off a light. It was a faint light, but it seemed sharp after the shadowy blues. The parchment, too, shone gold, and a little pool of gold light was gathering on a furry blotter left beneath the pens.

"Still wet," Spock murmured. "I wonder…"

He reached for the parchment, but the Coceytus whirled, so swiftly that he knocked against Uhura, and caught Spock's arm. "Caref—"

"Master! Master!" yelled the plaster bust. Its voice was high and echoed thinly down the corridors.

Uhura stumbled, and McCoy steadied her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "one of those pens pricked me, that's all."

A screaming and clattering rose in the distance from the middle corridor. The thing in the cage snored and sighed and made a whistling sound like water boiling. The Coceytus shrugged and then ran headlong down the right hand corridor. It led them to a flight of winding stairs. There were no banisters, and the stairs were steep, so they used hands as well as feet in their race. Kirk, scrambling up the stairs, felt he had become one of the pack and wondered why he was not baying. A light flickered from the top of the stairs as they circled, and he ordered himself to concentrate on it.

The Coceytus reached the next floor and ran at random to the left. Kirk grabbed him and tugged him to a halt. The others collided with them.

"Look!" said Kirk, trying to pull his arm out of the tangle to point.

"What?" said the Coceytus. "Oh!"

The light was daylight, shining through a small, dirty window set high in the wall. McCoy, shorter than the others, looked at it dubiously.

The Coceytus jumped into the air and tugged at the window, but it stuck fast.

"Smash it," ordered Kirk.

The Coceytus nodded, wrapped his arm in his cloak, and swung. Fresh light streamed in, blinding them.

McCoy reached tentatively for the ledge.

"No need," said the Coceytus. He dropped to the floor, sprang up past the window, carrying Uhura, and shoved her out.

McCoy shivered as he was pulled up, partly from the rush of cool air, partly from the howls coming up the stairs. He fell heavily to the ground, a few feet below, and stood still, until Uhura grabbed him out of the way of Spock's descending feet. Kirk landed next, but the Coceytus, dropping after him, hung choking a foot above the ground, his cloak caught securely in a large blue hand.

Spock and Kirk tugged the cloak free, and the young man fell to his knees. They dragged him up again, and the group pelted across the red and orange flowers, a lawn of yellowed grass, up a hill, and down the hill through a wood. At the foot they came out of the wood to a narrow, dusty road.

"Do we dare follow this?" asked Kirk.

"We can make better time on it," said the Coceytus. "I think we'd better take the risk of being followed."

"All right, let's go," said Kirk.

The Coceytus offered his arm to Uhura, and McCoy smiled, wondering how she would react to the archaic courtesy. She accepted the arm. McCoy stared for a moment and dropped back a pace to the other side of the pair. He touched the wrist with the tiny scratch. It was cold. "How does your wrist feel?" he asked.

"Pretty awful," she said.

They were whispering, but Spock heard anyway. ''Lieutenant—" he began.

"My fault, too," the Coceytus interrupted. "Or no one's fault, really. A wizard's castle is just plain dangerous."

McCoy pulled out his diagnostikit and held it to the injured wrist as they walked along. "You keep talking about magic," he remarked, "but…" He paused.

"What is it, Bones?" asked Kirk.

"I can't get a reading."

"That's what happens to precision scientific instruments in a wizard's world," said the Coceytus.

McCoy looked at the diagnostikit again. It was obstinately motionless. He finished his remark: "but you must know what you're talking about, so do you have any ideas on what happened to Uhura? Was the ink poisoned?"

"Not necessarily," the Coceytus answered, "but poisonous, at any rate."

"Then we'll stop as soon as we cross a stream," McCoy said. "Do you think you can go on farther?" he asked Uhura gently. "We could rig something to carry water back in."

"I can manage," she said.

Spock raised his head and ran a few steps ahead of them. "There's a stream not far away," he called back. "I can hear it."

"How far?" said Kirk.

"I'm not sure. It probably crosses the road, but I think it's closer this way." Spock and Kirk pushed open a way through the underbrush that clogged the wood on the side away from the wizard's castle and held it open as the Coceytus and McCoy helped Uhura after them. Several yards later they came to the stream so suddenly that Kirk and Spock both slipped in.

"As long as we're wet anyway…" Kirk said.

Spock nodded and locked hands with him.

"Come on Lieutenant," Kirk said. "You'll have to get wet, Doctor." They carried Uhura over to the farther side, which was higher and not so grown over with brush. A grassy bank sloped up for several feet before the wood began again. McCoy splashed after them, grumbling at the Coceytus, who arced across in a graceful parabola.

"Cheer up," Kirk told him, "this may free us from pursuit."

"Thanks."

Kirk brushed twigs out of his uniform. "Now what, Bones?"

McCoy took out a small surgical knife from his kit. "I wish I had some proper materials with me," he muttered, "but this will have to—Coceytus, are you wearing a sword?"

"Yes." He shrugged back his cloak to reveal it.

"All right. Use it to cut me a bandage off your cloak. About so wide." McCoy gestured to show the width and turned to Uhura. "I'm sorry, this will hurt. Kneel by the stream."

She managed a smile. "You got it wrong, Doctor. You mean: Now this will only hurt a little bit."

He smiled back. "I'll ask you afterwards. Spock, hold her arm steady for me."

Uhura remained silent as he slashed across the scratch, motioned Spock to let go, and thrust her arm into the stream. He held it there some moments, forcing the blood to flow out freely, then bathed the wound and took the arm out. Instantly, the Coceytus bound the strip of cloth over the wound.

"Neat," McCoy said. "You've had training?"

"A little. First-aid procedures, mostly."

"You'd better lie down, Uhura," McCoy said.

Spock helped her down, and she sighed as she sank into the long grass. "You were right, Doctor," she said.

"Of course," he said smugly, and felt the injured arm. It was cool from the water, so he could not tell if it was cold in itself. He scowled at the arm. "I wish I could be sure lancing was any good against venom."

"Aren't you?" Uhura said, startled.

"There's no proper proof for it, medically speaking," McCoy answered. "But, medically speaking, a treatment that perhaps helps, does not damage, and is expected by the patient is a treatment that should be applied."

He glanced at Spock, waiting for the Vulcan to comment, "Most illogical," but Spock was silent, lost in thought. When he spoke it was to the Coceytus. "If you don't know where we are, do you know where we are going?"

Kirk broke in, "You know more about where we are than you admitted back in the castle."

"Well, I guessed more. I still don't know. I don't suppose any of you have read Spenser's epic poem The Faerie Queen ?"

"No," said Uhura and McCoy.

"Yes," said Kirk and Spock. They looked at each other speculatively.

"You surprise me, Mr. Spock," said Kirk.

"I may say the same, Captain," Spock replied.

Kirk smiled. "You'd be surprised what a serious young man will get through who thinks captains are supposed to be well-read."

"And Spock is a walking reference library, we all know that," said McCoy. "Perfectly simple. Go on, Coceytus."

"I think we are either in Spenser's Faery Land or near it. More likely near it."

"Why?" said Kirk.

"Someone in Spenser's world wouldn't know about the Spenserian stanza, unless he was a wizard interested in other worlds. None of the wizards Spenser describes sound as if they'd be much interested in knowledge that isn't immediately useful; they're too busy haring after power—or dames. A mark of a poor wizard."

"That sounds like a professionally righteous indignation," McCoy commented.

The Coceytus grinned. "I'm not in the profession, but I suppose I've absorbed their attitude. No, our wizard has to be someone who is close enough to Spenser's Faery Land to enjoy making fun of it and learned enough to have run across Spenser."

Spock said, "I wonder if we are justified in assuming that 'our wizard' is hostile."

"Well, I generally assume someone is hostile when a stranger comes to his door to ask for hospitality, and he orders his servants to grab the visitor and lock him up.''

"Why were you asking for hospitality?" asked Uhura.

"I got lost during a dragon hunt and fell into another country," he answered. "It's easy to do Back of the Beyond."

"Back of what?"

"Back of the Beyond…let's see…I guess you could call it Fairyland in General. The terrains shift a lot, so if you go near the border of one country Back of the Beyond it's easy to find yourself someplace else you'd never heard of. Why do you think our wizard may be friendly, Mr. Spock?"

"He provided you with the means of escape, or so I should assume."

"The means of…Oh, yes! You and Uhura. Yes, it's a possibility. His dungeon implies a certain piquant sense of humor. But if it's all a joke, I'm not sure I care for his taste in comedy. But as to where, we're going—maybe nowhere. If there's a full moon tonight I may be able to call my people without any help. Otherwise, where we're going is in search of a friendly wonder-worker to help me. If we're in Spenser's world, we could try Lady Cambina. If we're not, I haven't the faintest idea."

Kirk nodded. The whole set-up was ridiculous, but at least it had a modicum of internal consistency. "Uhura, do you feel up to walking again?"

"Yes, Captain," she said.

"Careful, Jim," McCoy interposed, "Uhura is one of those idiots who hate to admit a weakness. I think it's a bad habit she picked up from you and Spock."

"I really do feel well enough," she said, and got to her feet unaided to prove it.

"Good," said Kirk, "then we'll follow the stream to where it meets the road and follow the road till we find someone who can direct us to a wizard."

They set off, Uhura taking Spock's arm, but they had only gone a few steps when a knight came riding into view around the curve of the stream. His horse picked its way daintily along the strip of bank between water and wood. The knight was in full plate armor, neatly jointed.

"Well," said Kirk, "he looks like one of Spenser's knights."

"Yes," agreed Spock, "although I don't recall a description of a shield like that."

"Azure, a sphere argent," said the Coceytus. "I don't either."

The knight pushed up the bevor of his helmet with one hand and lowered his lance with the other in a flowing, easy motion which, Kirk suspected, took great strength. The face revealed was fair and conventionally handsome—he looked a little like Kirk, except that his features were set in a grave expression.

"Looks like Jim when he has to order other people into danger," McCoy thought to himself, and suppressed a smile.

The Coceytus stepped forward. "Good…" He paused and glanced uncertainly at the sun. "Good day, sir knight."

"Good day, youngling. Are you all Paynims?"

"All?" The Coceytus blinked. "None of us are."

"Your lady is, or should be. I have never seen a Christian with so black a Saracen's hide."

Uhura stared at him and decided the words were meant to be insulting. She rummaged through her memory for the few When-Knighthood-Was-in-Flower stories she had read and said coldly, "Sir, a knight is, or should be, courteous."

"I pray your pardon, lady." The knight raised his lance, and set it back in its holder, then dismounted and knelt before Uhura. "I have ridden far today, and my heart is burdened. I did not understand that the ladies of this land could look and…and dress so strangely."

He managed not to stare at her bare legs, left free by her uniform. Uhura, visualizing herself in a long dress with a flowing train, suddenly realized what an arousing sight a woman's ankle must be in his world and said gravely, "Your error is forgiven, sir."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the deep solemnity of her tone, and she nearly broke up. But she swallowed hard and managed not to laugh. Fortunately, the Coceytus distracted the knight's attention. "Then you are not a native to this country, sir?" he said.

"No, I am Adamantus of Faery Land."

Kirk and Spock exchanged congratulatory glances.

"And I serve Queen Gloriana—and my heart's lady, Constance." Sir Adamantus looked around "What is this country's name?" he asked.

"Alas, Sir Adamantus, we are strangers to it," said the Coceytus. "We had hoped you could tell us." He went on to introduce the group, tacking a knighthood onto Kirk and calling McCoy "Surgeon McCoy."

McCoy suspected that a few extra syllables were slurred into the word, so that Sir Adamantus would hear it as Chirurgeon.

Sir Adamantus bowed to them, and a few moments of embarrassing silence followed. The knight looked uncomfortable, as if wishing they would all go away. At last he said cautiously, "What make you, traveling so near an enchanter's castle?"

"We just escaped from it," said Kirk. "He had us locked up."

"Truly?" said Adamantus eagerly, "then I need not hide my thoughts. Now let me see…the third oak, Lady Cambina said, and the fifth stone. Here is the third oak." He glanced at a large tree at the edge of the wood and turned to the stream. "One…two…" He stopped and wrinkled his eyebrows. "Think you a pebble is a stone?"

"Yes," said Spock.

"No," said the Coceytus, "not for a spell."

"I am no vile sorcerer!" Sir Adamantus exclaimed, turning on him.

"I can see that," said the Coceytus, ''but something of sorcery concerns you."

The knight nodded and finished his count. He drew his sword and took as deep a breath as his armor allowed, then stooped and rolled aside the fifth stone at the stream's edge. A fox sprang out of the hole. The sword flashed blue in the sunlight and chopped off its head. A duck flew squawking out of the bloodless carcass. Sir Adamantus grabbed it and wrung its neck. An egg dropped out of it into the stream. Adamantus snatched the egg, leaning so far in that he nearly toppled over, and Kirk had to pull him back.

"Thank you, Sir James," he said, and rose slowly, holding the egg in both hands. "Now I hold the enchanter's heart, and he must do my will—if I can get to him."

"Oh?" said the Coceytus. "May we know your will?"

"I seek the Lady Constance, stol'n from me by the Titan's daughter, Mutability. I know only that she hid her nowhere in Faery Land. It is my hope that this enchanter can show me the road that leads to my love."

"Sir Adamantus, perhaps we can assist each other," said Kirk. "We were going to go looking for a friendly wizard…"

"You would have looked long!" said Adamantus. "Sir James, know you not that all men of magic are evil? The essence of magic is deceit. So say all wise men, and I know it to be true, for, look you, what is magic but the shifting of appearances, and the changing of true substance to false? A thing which my lady could never abide."

"She will have to," suggested the Coceytus, "if magic is the only way for you to rescue her."

The knight looked with horror at the egg in his hands. "True—and I am already stained with sorcerous dealing. How shall I face my lady?" He turned to his horse and fumbled in his saddlebag with one hand, drawing out at last a sort of canvas sack, which he proceeded to draw over his shield.

"What are you doing?" asked McCoy.

"I cannot bear my lady's moon, the emblem of constancy, on my shield while the taint of magic is upon me."

"But I thought the moon was the emblem of inconstancy," said McCoy.

Kirk and Spock made "shut up" gestures at him. "Not in the Spenserian universe, Doctor," whispered Spock.

Kirk drew his imaginary knighthood around him and held Adamantus' hand from fastening the cover. "Sir Adamantus," he said, "it may be you mistake the matter." He pulled the cover off. "Behold your moon—always in the full upon your shield. But in the unchanging heavens she waxes and wanes in her appointed course. Surely the changes of magic, rightly used, can be as regular?"

Kirk paused to kick the Coceytus, who was grinning in frank appreciation of the Platonic sophistries, and went on, "Would your lady disdain to meet the Lady Cambina?"

"I do not know," said Adamantus. "It may be as you say."

The Coceytus slid smoothly into the attack. "You have lost your love, Sir Adamantus, and we have lost ourselves. If we help you win your way to the enchanter, will you ask him to help me call my people as well as help you find Lady Constance?"

"Yes," said Adamantus, and repeated it with more conviction, "yes, and gladly. If I do this thing at all I must do it with some hope of success, and I will freely tell you that it puzzled me much to consider how I should pass the enchanter's guards and protect myself without losing the egg. Sir James, will you do me the honor of wearing my sword? For I see yours is lost."

"I would be honored," said Kirk, accepting the sword. It was heavier than it looked, and he felt like a fool as he tried to find some way of holding it that would not result in his tripping the moment he took a step. Sulu, an enthusiastic fencer, had managed to persuade them all to learn the rudiments of fencing, but Kirk had never gone beyond, preferring to study more generally useful forms of in-fighting. He wished that he had accepted more of Sulu's tutelage, although he was not sure that it would have helped him at all with the monster, heavier than a saber, which he now held.

"Lady," said Adamantus, "will you please to ride?"

"Thank you," said Uhura uncertainly, and started towards the horse. The Coceytus steered her to the left side and helped her mount.

They went silently back to the road, back to the hill, through the wood to the hilltop, and down across the wizard's garden. Uhura looked in the broken window and peered carefully to both sides. "It's—" she began, and then remembered how the Coceytus had hovered in the air to read the inscription. So she craned her neck for a careful look upwards before leaning down from the horse to tell the others, "It's safe."

"Go ahead," said Kirk, "we'll follow."

The horse protested softly as she stepped to the saddle and into the hall through the window, but its master stroked it and held it steady. One after another the rest mounted the horse and scrambled into the castle, Adamantus last of all.

Something small squeaked on the right and dashed gibbering around a corner before they could see what it was. Kirk and the Coceytus looked at each other. Holding their swords ready, they stepped out in front of the rest and walked towards the corner.

Sir Adamantus forgot he had no sword and moved up beside them, grinding his teeth in frustration when Spock pulled him back. He glared at the egg in his hands and muttered "Sorcery!"

They reached the corner, turned it, and stopped. Two large, blue trolls stood blocking their way with drawn swords.

"En garde!" yelled Kirk, and feinted to the right, cursing the sword's weight which slowed him down as he went under the troll's parry and thrust at its breast. But the thrust almost went home. The troll had to jump back a pace to avoid it.

Kirk thrust again, half seeing out of one eye that the Coceytus, his cloak whirled around his left arm as a shield, was driving the other troll slowly back. Kirk wondered if his fencing stance was wrong. The Coceytus, facing his opponent directly, instead of turning his body sideways, thrust and slashed and darted to one side or another at his ease, while Kirk moved rigidly straight ahead, his thighs aching with the unaccustomed strain of the crab-like steps. But still his troll gave ground before his thrusts, and still he parried its strokes successfully.

Kirk gasped as the troll's sword jabbed his arm. He paused for a moment at the hot sting, but the wound was slight, and he was able to thrust once more. Even in that thrust he was wondering why the troll looked so upset, but it was his last stroke.

Spock announced loudly from behind him, "This is no battle."

The Coceytus beat his opponent's sword upwards, stepped back, and lowered his sword.

"You say true, Master Spock," said Adamantus, wonderingly.

Kirk let his arm fall.

The trolls stared at each other in consternation.

"Wizard!" yelled the Coceytus, "What's your game?"

A tall form stepped into the doorway. "To get you into this room. As you seem to have discovered my little device, I shall simply invite you in. If you'll step aside, I'll send your escort away."

The Coceytus stepped back to one side, shielding Adamantus.

The trolls looked miserable.

"You have done well," the wizard reassured them, "but now go and rest."

They stomped down the corridor and around the corner. Their footsteps echoed all the way to the staircase. The wizard shouted after them, "Find the glazier and tell him to fix the window, while you're at it," then stepped out of the doorway.

"Now what do we do?" said Kirk.

"Go on, I guess," said the Coceytus.

The room they came into was warmer than the corridor had been, for a large fire was lit and trying hard to take the chill off the stones. The wizard, a cadaverous man dressed in black, stood leaning against the mantelpiece. If he had stood upright he would have been taller than any of them, even Sir Adamantus. As it was, the Coceytus and McCoy looked like two small boys, and the others felt uncomfortably shrunken.

"Welcome, madam and gentlemen," said the wizard. "Won't you sit down?"

After a moment the Coceytus held a chair for Uhura and sat down next to her. "We thank you, lord of the house," he said.

McCoy followed suit and said meditatively, "Well, it seems you're not a wicked wizard after all."

"Wicked," the wizard repeated. "That is a curious word you humans use."

"Not just humans," interrupted the Coceytus.

The wizard paid no attention. "As I understand it," he went on, "it describes one who puts his own interests above those of others. Yes, of course I am wicked. However, I find it to my interest to grant your wishes."

"You must, vile enchanter, for I hold your heart."

"Yes, Sir Adamantus, precisely. My name, by the way, is Threngil. I prefer it to 'lord of the house' or…other titles."

His guests were all seated now, except Adamantus. The knight shook his head and sat down. Threngil arched his back once against the fire's warmth, then drew up a chair and sat down, too. "Tell me, Mr. Spock," he said, "how did you discover my stratagem?"

"Captain Kirk is not a skilled swordsman. The Coceytus obviously is, if I may judge by speed and appearance of ease. Yet each was driving his opponent back at the same pace. The discrepancy could not reasonably be due to chance."

"Thank you," said Threngil. "Now your wounds should be seen to." He rose, and Kirk pressed back into his chair, shrinking away from him. The wizard smiled bitterly and held out his hands to the ceiling. A quantity of white bandages fell into them. "Here," he said to McCoy, "but remember to change them when you return to your…spaceship. They will turn into cobwebs."

McCoy glanced at the Coceytus, who nodded. So McCoy bound up Kirk's wounds, and, after a moment's hesitation, put a fresh bandage on Uhura's arm.

Meanwhile Threngil went on, "Would you like some food or drink?"

"Master Threngil!" Adamantus burst out, but then stopped.

"We would, thank you," said the Coceytus.

Threngil clapped his hands and told the goblin who ran to the door to bring wine, fruit, and meat. "You are quite correct, Sir Adamantus," he remarked. "I enjoy your torment. But, aside from that, your companions are hungry. The Coceytus, for example, has eaten nothing for some twelve hours. You must forgive me," he said, turning to the Coceytus, "but I expected Sir Adamantus to arrive this morning. When he didn't I forgot to wake you for breakfast."

"You expected me?"

"Yes," said the wizard, "what kept you?"

"An old man was trying to get in his harvest, and his son was ill." Adamantus looked ashamed. "It is not work fit for a knight, but they needed help."

"You mortals have such inconsistent ideals," murmured Threngil. "I sometimes wonder how you ever disentangle them. However, you are here now. My intention, you see, was to send my servants to capture you before you reached the stream."

"But how did you know I was—"

"It is not so easy to sneak up on a wizard's heart as you suppose. One feels these things. And one has equipment to substantiate one's feeling." Threngil nodded at a crystal ball on the mantelpiece. "As it turned out, the Coceytus occupied the dungeon meant for you. And, as I inadvertently provided him with the means of escape, he escaped just when I should have sent my guards out to meet you, and they spent so much time chasing him that they missed you. A pity—such an ingenious plan."

"Why didn't you just hide your heart someplace else?" said McCoy.

"I cannot touch it. That is the penalty for security. I could have sent my servants, if they were fit to be trusted, but they are not."

"Are you?" said Adamantus suddenly.

"It all depends. For example, I am perfectly trustworthy as long as you hold my heart. I would be more comfortable, I may say, if you held it a little less tightly."

Adamantus relaxed his grip, after a suspicious glance, and Threngil slumped down in his chair. "Thank you," he said, straightening up again, "that is better. And here is your food. Excellent."

Threngil poured himself some wine and took a pear and some meat, tasted each, nodded his approval, and sent the goblin on to serve the others. Kirk wondered if the wizard was eating only to prove to his guests that they were not being poisoned, and decided that he probably was. With or without poison, the food was good and the wine excellent.

McCoy sipped his wine and carefully tasted it, enjoying both the light-bodied rosé and Spock's look of disapproval. "You really ought to try it, Spock," he said.

"Give up, Doctor," said Uhura, "you'll never change him."

"A teetotaller?" said Threngil. "Dear me, how interesting. And he sent the goblin back to bring Spock some water. "Now, Sir Adamantus," he said, "my plan originally was to take you prisoner, because I thought I could not fulfill your demands. I know where the Lady Constance is, but I cannot get there."

"Where?" said Adamantus eagerly.

"On the Moon."

"That's impossible," said McCoy. "She couldn't live there—or is she there but not alive?"

"Master Leech, do not say it," begged Adamantus.

"She is alive," said Threngil. He added to the doctor, "You know and I know that the moon is an airless rock, but in Queen Gloriana's realm they do not know it—and, I believe, it is not so in their sky. I changed my plan, however, when the Coceytus arrived, for I found in his mind an image he calls a spaceship. I took him prisoner and set about trying to transport a spaceship here for him to fly—"

"You could have asked me."

"Would you have agreed?"

"Oh—probably."

"I preferred the certainty. I worked through the night and, indeed, found a spaceship. But my attempt to bring the whole ship here, as you see, foundered." He gestured at the four from the Enterprise.

"Look here," said Kirk, "one man alone couldn't operate my ship."

"Indeed?" said Threngil. "Then it is fortunate that you have already promised Sir Adamantus your assistance."

McCoy touched his diagnostikit. "The Enterprise won't operate Back of the Beyond, will it?" he said.

"Normally, no," said the Coceytus. "However, things could be arranged." He rose. "May I?"

Threngil nodded, and the Coceytus took the crystal ball off the mantelpiece and sat down with it. He stroked it with his right hand, never taking his finger-tips off it, and crooned a spell over it softly.

A cloud of color grew up in the crystal—shapeless, so far as Kirk could see, but the Coceytus spoke to it happily.

"Hello, Father…Yes, I'm in trouble again…No, I'd like to be transported to a ship called the Enterprise. I've got four members of its crew here with me…No, six of us all together. Sir Adamantus of Spenser's Faery…Just a moment." Ho turned to Kirk. "Where is the Enterprise now?"

Kirk gave him the co-ordinates, wondering what, if anything, they would mean to the young jack-of-all-trades. He rattled them off to the crystal ball and went on, "And then, can you transport the Enterprise to the Spenserian world with enough of its own space to leave it operable? …Thanks—oh, anywhere between the Moon's orbit and Mercury's will do. Can you keep in touch with me through all that? …Right. Bye."

"Between the Moon and Mercury?" said Kirk.

The Coceytus nodded.

"A Ptolemaic universe, sir," said Spock.

"I should have known," said Kirk ruefully. "It's described in the Mutability Cantos. That reminds me of something." He stared into his glass of wine as the lines came back to him. "Cynthia lives in her palace on the Moon. Couldn't she send Lady Constance back to Earth? Why hasn't she done something to help her?"

"Because Mutability put a spell of silence on the lady's lips and told Cynthia that the parents of the speechless maiden begged her to take the girl under her protection. Not a very good lie, but she left before anyone could challenge it."

"A spell of silence," mused the Coceytus. "Do you know what can break it?"

"Threngil let his head fall back and nearly choked on howls of rusty laughter. "What would, you guess, Coceytus?" he gasped at last, "what would you guess?"

The Coceytus raised his eyebrows. "True love's kiss?"

"Exactly!"

"You wizards seem to like kisses in spells," remarked McCoy.

"Mutability is no wizard," said Threngil. "I like kisses in spells because they provide the maximum embarrassment for the participants—hence, the maximum amusement for me. But lovers feel no embarrassment at kissing. True love's kiss is not only unimaginative but dull. Still, what can you expect from a Titan's daughter?"

The Coceytus stood up. "We'll be off in a minute," he said. The others rose, except Threngil and Adamantus. "You'd better stand up," he told the knight, and turned to the wizard. "Thank you for your unusual hospitality. I've enjoyed myself, I think, in a way, on the whole."

"I'm delighted to hear it," answered Threngil. "Sir Adamantus, tell me, do you insist on dragging my heart all over the universe, or will you consider my part played and leave it behind so that I can spell it back into hiding?"

Adamantus looked at the wizard for a moment and set the egg down carefully. "Farewell, Master Threngil," he said.

"Farewell."

The Coceytus looked at the egg. "Why not put it back where it belongs?"

Haze closed around them as the wizard answered, "That is a—" Their ears popped at the slight difference in air-pressure between Threngil's castle and the bridge of the Enterprise.

"Captain!" said Sulu, jumping out of the captain's chair, ''Where've you been the last five minutes?"

"Five minutes?" said Kirk.

"Yes, and who's that?" asked Sulu. "And that?" he added, a moment later. Adamantus' armor was so spectacularly out of place that the Coceytus was at first invisible.

Kirk looked around at the familiar chairs and panels. His arm hurt, and he could feel a little blood oozing out of the cut. A bit of wadded-up cobweb fell from his sleeve to the floor. "I'm not sure I know the answers to any of your questions, Mr. Sulu, but these gentlemen are called Sir Adamantus and the Coceytus."

Sulu started over to his own seat, but Kirk stopped him. "Keep command, Mr. Sulu. We're going down to the sick-bay for a few minutes."

While McCoy cleansed and bound Uhura's wound properly, Kirk said, "The five minutes' absence is your doing, Coceytus?"

"Yes. My father's, rather."

"How long do we have till the next shift?"

"A few minutes—longer than it took him to get ready to get us here. It's a more complicated movement."

"I appreciate that," Kirk said dryly.

"How does that feel, Uhura?" asked McCoy.

"Not bad. I don't feel shaky all over now."

"Good. Your turn, Jim." He set to work on Kirk's arm.

"Uhura," said Kirk, "you're relieved from duty, if you want to be. You, too, Spock. We've all had a—well—a disquieting time."

"I'd rather not, sir," Uhura said. "At least, not till after we've seen the Ptolemaic Moon."

"Understandable," said Kirk. "Same with you, Spock?"

"Yes, Captain."

McCoy grinned. "Can't I be relieved from duty so I can come hang around the bridge for the fun?"

"Yes, if you're done tying ribbons on me."

"Done, Captain."

"All right." Kirk looked around at his little company. Grass, dirt, and water competed for precedence in staining, and his own uniform had a small patch of dried blood in addition to everything else. "I'll see you on the bridge, when we've changed. Sir Adamantus, Coceytus, would you like to borrow fresh clothes?"

"Better not," said the Coceytus. "We'll be out of here pretty quickly."

A few minutes later they were all gathered on the bridge. Uhura and Kirk were the last. They entered together and found the second navigator and the second communications officer standing by the captain's chair, listening incredulously to a discussion of the advantages of fencing as opposed to sword-fighting with a shield between Sulu and Sir Adamantus. Spock, McCoy, and the Coceytus were listening with less interest, although the Coceytus occasionally threw in remarks, randomly supporting one side or the other.

Spock rose from the captain's chair, in his obtrusively quiet way, and walked to his own when he saw Kirk. Sulu and the navigation and communications officers scurried to theirs. "All in order, Mr. Spock?" said Kirk, ignoring the race to restore order.

"Yes, sir," said Spock.

As Kirk and Uhura took their seats the ship bucked. Kirk clamped his teeth against a cry as his injured arm bumped against the arm of the chair.

"Captain," said Sulu unhappily, "is that Earth I see on the screen, or aren't you sure of that, either?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. Sulu," said Kirk cautiously, "but it's an Earth. We won't be here long. Set a course for the Moon."

"Without crossing the Moon's orbit," added the Coceytus.

"Seriously?" said Sulu.

"Yes," said Kirk.

"Otherwise you'll break the crystal sphere," explained the Coceytus.

Sulu and the second navigator looked at each other and then at the Coceytus. "What crystal sphere?" they said in unison.

"The one the Moon is set in. All the planets are set in them. Their turning is what makes everything rotate around the earth, you know. If you can get a view on your screen at right angles to the plane of the ecliptic you should be able to see the axletree."

"Oh," said Sulu.

"What axletree?" said the second navigator.

"The one that turns the crystal spheres."

"Sir, we can't establish an orbit this way," offered the second navigator.

"Unnecessary," said Kirk. "We just want an approach close enough to beam Sir Adamantus down."

The second navigator subsided with a few muttered remarks about plate armor and space-suits, and he and Sulu set the course.

"Captain," said Uhura, "I'm picking up something."

"Radio?" said Spock incredulously, going to look over her shoulder.

"Yes, but Very Low Frequency. Not more than four kilocycles or so. Just a moment. I think I can make it audible."

Soon she had a sweet humming sound filling the bridge. It was a chord, but the base note was much lower than the rest. They found themselves straining to hear all the notes equally. The blend had a comforting sound. Kirk felt his head fall back, his muscles eased, and the pain left his arm. It occurred to him that he should not be staring slack-jawed at the ceiling, but he was too comfortable to do anything about it. He could just see an upside-down Coceytus running towards Uhura before the young man collapsed languidly out of his field of vision.

"Spock!" the Coceytus called. It was meant to be desperate, but it came out in a yawn, blending with the sweet noise.

Spock moved one hand slowly past Uhura. At last he fell, knocking them both against the panel, where his hand, dragging along the dials, found the main communicator and turned it off.

Kirk snapped his head down and sprang out of his chair. The Coceytus thrust himself off the floor. Spock and Uhura disentangled themselves, murmuring polite apologies. McCoy rubbed his eyes and asked, "What in heaven's name was that?"

"A most apt expletive, Doctor," said Spock. "The music of the spheres, obviously."

"Oh, obviously," agreed Kirk. A slow, joyous smile crept over his face. McCoy glared at him.

"Stop jotting that down in your mental notebook of Spockisms and do something! Sir."

"Spock's done all that's necessary, but I suppose I could escort Sir Adamantus to the transporter room. Sulu, how soon will we be close enough?"

"Five minutes, sir."

"Excellent." Kirk bowed, glancing sideways to see if the Coceytus enjoyed the gesture. He did. "Sir Adamantus, may I show you the way?"

"Lead on, Sir James."

Kirk reappeared by himself shortly. "Uhura," he said, "stand by to notify the transporter room. Sulu, give her the signal directly."

"Yes, sir," they said.

Kirk examined the screen unhappily. "Mr. Spock," he said. "Is there really any life on that Moon?"

Spock checked the sensors. "Affirmative, sir. Quite a large concentration in one spot—I assume it to be the location of Cynthia's palace."

"What are they breathing?" asked Sulu.

"Ether."

"There isn't any such thing," several voices said.

"If you like attenuated, but breathable, air any better, you may call it air. However, it extends beyond the surface of the Moon. It is, in fact, pervasive, except in our immediate vicinity. I prefer to call it ether."

"Quite right," said the Coceytus.

On the screen the Moon grew larger. Already they could see Cynthia's palace of ivory and silver. Slowly the palace grew, and they could see figures running out of the palace to stare at them.

"Now," said Sulu.

"Now," said Uhura to the intercom.

A silver figure appeared on the plain and moved towards the palace. One of the figures in the group ran forward to meet the newcomer. They embraced.

"Now," said the Coceytus to the empty air.

The ship jerked again, and they were back where they had started a few minutes—or hours—ago.

"Goodbye," said the Coceytus, and disappeared.

Spock looked at the empty space and turned to Kirk. "Sir, how will you enter this on the log?"

"Well Mr. Spock…" Kirk said and paused. He smiled sweetly. "That's not your concern."

"No, sir," agreed Spock politely.

"Besides, you'll look it up as soon as the Captain goes off duty," said McCoy.

Spock looked hurt.

Sulu leaned back in his chair and counted faces. The right ones were all there. "I don't suppose, Captain," he remarked, "that you have any sureties now about what happened?"

"Oh, yes," said Kirk, "I have one, Mr. Sulu."

"And that is?''

"It never happened. And, since it never happened, I need not record it in the log. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Mr. Sulu," said Spock thoughtfully.

"Yes?"

"I'd like a few more fencing lessons, if you don't mind."

"So would I," said Kirk.

"Me, too," said McCoy.

"I'd be delighted. How about you, Uhura?" said Sulu.

"No, thanks," she said, rising to go off duty. "I'm going to be too busy the next few days—there's a long poem I want to read, if the ship's library has it."

"It does," said Spock.

Note: With the help and guidance of Open Doors, we digitized the first volume of Spockanalia and imported it to AO3, which you can view here. In order to meet AO3's terms of service, some of the content was edited or removed. The full version of the zine is preserved on this blog. The masterpost is here.

[thesconesyard]

Another two hours, another five answers? Sure! More Scones otp answers:

11. What is their love language?

They just do things for each other. So what is that? Acts of service? Scotty just takes care of things that need to be fixed or done before McCoy thinks to ask, and McCoy just takes care of Scotty without thinking about it.

12. How Are there communication skills?

They read each other very well. They are that couple standing behind everyone communicating by just a brow lift or glance. They may each have times where they kind of shut down and aren’t ready to talk, but the other is patient and waits and they can talk through it like adults.

13. A little personal… but… Hot and Steamy or Soft and Tender?

Both, depending on the mood. Probably soft and tender more often (as they are growing older 😝 ) but after a stressful mission and Jim’s antics, a rush of adrenaline and the actual knowledge the other is safe could spice things up.

14. How did they first meet?

AOS gives us that moment where everyone is on the bridge (Can I get a towel?) but we don’t get that on TOS, so that’s more interesting to think about. (And even though I don’t watch it, who knows how or if SNW might make that happen.) But this is asking what I think, so, I think Scotty was on the ship first and McCoy joined later when Jim became captain. Through Jim they probably became aware of each other (obviously as senior staff) but probably didn’t think much about the other. Scotty probably showed up in medbay, injured of course, and McCoy fixed him up and they got talking, because how could Scotty get hurt and not make light jokes about it? And from there they probably connected a bit more at meals, after shifts, sharing a drink and Jim stories.

15. Why do they like each other?

Scotty loves McCoy’s huge heart, that he hides away under his grumpy and gruff exterior. He cares for everyone so much and so tenderly even if he is berating them, because he worries so much about everyone and it’s how he shows how he cares.

McCoy loves Scotty’s outgoing nature. He’s upbeat and makes everyone around him happier for them being near him. Even if he gets mad at his younger engineers, he wants to teach them how to be better next time.

[ironwitchpainter]

Star Trek: Planetary Perception and Pursuit, Episode 6: The Imperial Falcon

The next few days on the Enterprise are a whirlwind of activity. Kirk notices the change in his two best friends, the way they look at each other, the gentle touches, the lingering conversations. He feels a pang of happiness for them, but also a twinge of sadness for the potential loss of the trio's dynamic. Yet, he knows that love and friendship are not static things, they evolve, they grow. And as he watches Spock and McCoy navigate their newfound feelings, he can't help but feel proud of the man he's become, the captain who's learned to embrace the illogical, the human, the love.

"Spock, McCoy," Kirk calls out, his voice cutting through the bustle of the ship's corridor. "A moment of your time, if you please." The two men turn, their eyes meeting briefly before they walk over to him. "I just wanted to say," Kirk clears his throat, trying to find the right words, "that I'm here for you both. No matter what happens, you know that."

"Of course, Captain," Spock replies, his voice measured and calm, yet laced with a hint of vulnerability that Kirk has rarely heard. "Your support is appreciated and valued." He looks at McCoy, the softness in his gaze speaking volumes about the depth of his feelings for the doctor.

"What's this about, Jim?" McCoy asks, his eyes searching Kirk's. His voice holds a note of concern, as he's aware that Kirk isn't one for overt emotional declarations. He wonders if his captain has some bad news to impart.

"It's nothing like that," Kirk assures them with a gentle smile, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "I just wanted to remind you both that no matter what happens in the future, I'll support you. You're my friends, my brothers, and I'll always be here for you." His gaze flickers between them, acknowledging the unspoken change in their relationship without delving into specifics.

"Jim," McCoy says, his Southern drawl thick with a blend of curiosity and concern, "you got me worried now. What's going on? You think we're gonna get fired or something? Because if it's about me and Spock..." His voice trails off as he looks from Kirk to Spock, then back again, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"No, Bones," Kirk laughs, gripping their shoulders more firmly. "It's nothing like that. I just had a... a feeling, you know? Like something big is happening, and I want you to know that I'm here for you." He releases them and steps back, his expression earnest. "We've faced so much together, and I don't expect that to change. But if you ever need advice, or just someone to talk to, I'm your man."

Spock looks at Kirk with a newfound respect, understanding the depth of their friendship in a way he never had before. The captain's unwavering support, even in the face of the unknown, is a testament to their shared experiences and the bonds they've forged in the crucible of space.

"Thank you, Jim," McCoy says, his voice gruff but sincere. "I reckon we've all got some figuring out to do. But knowing you're here makes it a little easier." He glances at Spock, who nods in agreement.

"Jim," McCoy says, his voice dropping to a low murmur that only Kirk can hear, "I don't know if you've noticed, but things have... changed between Spock and me." He rubs the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "Could we maybe... have a chat in private? I'd appreciate your perspective on all this, if you've got the time." His eyes dart to Spock, who nods solemnly, indicating his consent for the conversation.

"Of course, Bones," Kirk replies, clapping McCoy on the shoulder. "Spock, you're with me." He leads the way to his quarters, a sense of gravity weighing down the steps of the three men as they navigate the corridors of the Enterprise.

The captain's quarters are a sanctuary of sorts, the walls lined with the physical books Kirk cherishes. They sit down, the tension palpable in the air. Kirk pours three glasses of Saurian brandy, handing one to each of them. He takes a sip, his eyes never leaving his friends. "Alright, spill it. What's going on?"

McCoy starts, his voice low and deliberate. "Spock and I... we've realized we have feelings for each other that go beyond friendship." He takes a deep breath, looking into his drink. "It's complicated, and we're not sure how to navigate it. But we wanted you to know."

Kirk's eyebrows shoot up, but his expression quickly morphs into one of understanding. He nods slowly. "I see," he says, setting his glass down. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. You two have had a connection that's always been... special. But I want you to know that nothing changes here."

Spock speaks up, his voice a soothing bass. "Our relationship will indeed require careful consideration and adjustment. However, our primary concern is the welfare of the crew and the success of our missions."

Kirk nods, leaning back in his chair. "And that's what I expect from both of you. But as your captain and as your friend, I want to make sure you're okay. Love isn't something you can just set aside for duty. It's a part of you, a part of who you are."

McCoy takes a deep breath, his eyes glistening. "Jim, I've never felt this way before. It's scary and exciting all at once." He looks at Spock, who meets his gaze with a soft nod of understanding. "But I know I can't ignore it."

Kirk reaches out and squeezes McCoy's hand. "And you shouldn't have to. We're not just colleagues, we're a family. We're here to support each other, through the missions and the... personal stuff." He gives them both a firm nod. "Now, I'm not going to say I'm an expert on love, but I do know a thing or two about navigating the stars. And if you two can handle that, you can handle anything."

McCoy chuckles, his Southern drawl thick with emotion. "You're right, Jim. We're not navigators in the traditional sense, but we've charted some pretty wild courses together." He looks at Spock, who nods in agreement. "We'll figure it out, just like we always do."

Spock's eyes shine with something unmistakably human. "Thank you, Captain," he says, his voice tinged with sincerity. "Your understanding and support are most appreciated."

Kirk smiles warmly, his eyes holding a hint of the mischief that so often gets him into trouble. "Well, as long as you two don't start fighting over who gets the last slice of pizza in the mess hall, we'll be just fine." He stands up, his glass of brandy still in hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a ship to run. And I suspect you two have some... private matters to discuss."

McCoy laughs, the sound a little shaky. "We'll try not to let it affect our work, I promise." He takes a sip of his brandy, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through his chest.

Spock rises to his feet, his movements deliberate. "Thank you for your understanding, Captain." He nods once, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation.

Kirk claps them both on the shoulder. "Remember, my door's always open," he says, his voice serious. "Now go on, get out of here. I've got reports to sign off on, and I'm sure you two have... more interesting things to do." He winks, the moment of seriousness passing.

McCoy and Spock exchange a look, a silent conversation passing between them. They finish their drinks and stand, Spock's hand reaching out to take McCoy's. It's a simple gesture, but one filled with new meaning. They exit Kirk's quarters, leaving the captain to his paperwork.

In the quiet of the corridor, McCoy looks up at Spock. "Where to?" he asks, his voice a little unsteady.

Spock considers for a moment before leading them to the nearest turbolift. "To the observation deck," he decides. "It is a logical place to discuss illogical emotions."

The turbolift doors close, and the soft hum of the engines seems to echo the tumult of their hearts. McCoy's hand is still in Spock's, warm and alive, a reassurance that this isn't just a fleeting moment.

As the lift ascends, McCoy squeezes Spock's hand gently. "You know, Spock, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually looking forward to the challenge of figuring this out with you." His voice is a mix of excitement and nerves.

Spock looks down at their joined hands, his expression unreadable. "Nor did I, Doctor," he admits. "However, the potential for growth and understanding that lies within this... relationship... is intriguing."

The turbolift arrives with a soft ding, and the doors open to reveal the vast expanse of stars outside the observation deck windows. They walk out, the quiet hum of the ship's systems a gentle backdrop to their conversation.

McCoy releases Spock's hand and walks over to the windows, looking out at the stars. "You know, I've seen a lot of galaxies, a lot of planets, but nothing quite like this," he says, his voice filled with wonder.

Spock joins him, his gaze following McCoy's to the stars. "It is a humbling reminder of the vastness of the universe and the multitude of life forms that exist within it," he agrees. "And yet, amidst all this complexity, we find ourselves drawn to each other."

They draw closer together, looking into each other's eyes. The warmth of McCoy's gaze is met with the soft glow of Spock's, a silent acknowledgment of the profound connection that has grown between them. Their hearts beat in sync with the rhythm of the ship's engines, a testament to the unity they share amidst the cosmic dance of stars.

McCoy takes a deep breath, his hand finding its way back to Spock's. "I know this is all new for you, Spock, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. No matter what happens, I'll stand by your side."

Spock's grip tightens around McCoy's hand, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he processes the human's words. "And I, you, Doctor," he says, his voice a whisper in the vastness of the room. "Our bond has always been strong, and I believe it will only grow stronger as we navigate these new waters."

They stand in silence for a few moments, the stars their silent witnesses. Then, with a gentle tug, Spock leads McCoy closer, until their bodies are almost touching. "Tell me," he says, his voice low and earnest, "what is it like to love someone, not as a friend, but as... more?"

McCoy turns to face Spock fully, his eyes searching the Vulcan's. "It's like... it's like when you find that one piece of the puzzle that you didn't even know was missing. Suddenly, everything makes more sense, feels more complete. It's a mix of excitement and fear, knowing that you've found something rare and precious, and not wanting to lose it."

Spock nods slowly, processing the human metaphor. "And the fear," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, "does it ever subside?"

McCoy smiles softly, his thumb brushing the back of Spock's hand. "Sometimes it does, but mostly, it just becomes a part of the love. It's like the shadow that follows the sun. You can't have one without the other."

"I wish to attempt to alleviate your fear, doctor," Spock says, his voice steady and reassuring. "Emotions, even those of a romantic nature, can be understood and managed through logic and experience. We have faced many challenges together, and I am certain that we can navigate this new aspect of our relationship with the same precision and care."

"I believe you, Spock," McCoy says, his eyes never leaving Spock's. "But, I also know that this isn't something we can solve with a Vulcan nerve pinch or a medical tricorder reading." He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. "It's going to be a journey, and I'm ready to take it with you."

"Leonard," Spock says, his voice low and earnest, "I wish to express my commitment to you in the most human way I know how." He takes a deep breath, the words feeling foreign yet oddly natural on his lips. "You will not lose me. I will never cease to love and support you, regardless of the uncertainties or complexities that may arise."

McCoy's eyes widen slightly, his heart racing. He feels the warmth of Spock's words resonate through his entire being. "And I you, Spock," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

"Does this assurance, this logical commitment to our bond, serve to mitigate the fear you spoke of earlier?" Spock asks, his gaze unwavering. "The concept of losing something precious is inherently illogical, as what we share is not merely a possession, but an ever-evolving connection."

"It does, Spock," McCoy admits, his thumb still stroking the back of Spock's hand. "But, like I said, fear's a part of it. It's what makes love so... human." He smiles, a gentle curve of his lips that reaches his eyes.

"Doctor," Spock says, his voice a mix of affection and amusement, "if you continue to maintain that gentle pressure and rhythmic motion against my hand, I will be compelled to reciprocate in kind." He takes a moment to compose himself, the warmth from McCoy's touch seeping through his skin.

McCoy laughs, a sound that fills the observation deck with warmth. "Alright, point taken," he says, releasing the pressure slightly. "But, I've got to say, the human part of me is enjoying this." He looks into Spock's eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort or uncertainty.

"In truth, Dr. McCoy," Spock says, his voice even softer, "I wish to reciprocate. May I kiss you?" The question hangs in the air, charged with vulnerability and anticipation. His gaze never wavers, and his eyebrows tilt up slightly, a subtle expression of hope.

McCoy's smile widens, his eyes shining with affection. "Yes, Spock," he whispers, leaning in slightly. "You may."

Spock leans down, his movements precise yet tender. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss, the first of its kind between them. It's a moment that seems to stop time, their hearts beating in a harmony that resonates throughout the observation deck. The stars beyond the windows seem to shine brighter, a silent applause to their newfound love.

As they pull back, McCoy's hand comes up to cup Spock's cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of the pointed ear. "I can't believe we're doing this," he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder and a touch of awe.

"Dr. McCoy, your enthusiasm is quite endearing, but I must remind you of the necessity to maintain composure." Spock's eyes twinkle with amusement. "You did say you wished to take it slow. Or has that changed?" His voice is a gentle reminder, a blend of affection and logic.

McCoy laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet of the observation deck. "I did, didn't I?" He takes a step back, though his hand lingers on Spock's face for a moment longer. "But, sometimes, the heart just can't be tamed."

Spock nods, his features relaxing into a rare smile. "Understood, doctor. However, we are not animals driven solely by instinct. We are capable of rational thought and self-control." He steps closer again, his hand moving to cover McCoy's.

"I suppose that's what you're doing, then, Spock?" McCoy asks, his voice teasing yet earnest. "Applying that legendary Vulcan logic to the chaos of love?"

"Indeed, Dr. McCoy. It is essential to approach this new aspect of our relationship with a clear mind and a commitment to understanding each other's needs and limitations. Our bond has always been strong, and I intend to honor it with patience and consideration."

"Doctor, I find myself curious about your knowledge of Vulcan physiology, particularly concerning the sensitivity of our hands. In our culture, the physical touch between bonded individuals can hold significant meaning and be quite intense." Spock's gaze is focused and inquisitive, his hand still covering McCoy's. "As we continue to explore this connection, I wish to ensure that any physical intimacy is as emotionally resonant for you as it is for me."

McCoy's thumb stops its movement on Spock's hand, the question hanging in the air like a delicate thread of spider silk. He considers Spock's words, his own curiosity piqued. "I've read about it, of course, but I'd love to learn more from you, Spock. Maybe it's time for a personal anatomy lesson?"

Spock's expression softens, and he leans in, closing the space between them. His lips press against McCoy's in a kiss that's not just gentle, but deep and searching. The warmth of McCoy's hand seems to pulse through Spock's body, setting off a cascade of sensations that he's never quite felt before. His own hand moves to the back of McCoy's neck, his long fingers tangling in the soft hair, as he deepens the kiss. It's a moment that feels like it could last an eternity, a fusion of logic and passion that defies the very fabric of their star-studded backdrop.

McCoy, the sensation of your hand on mine is akin to the harmonious intertwining of Vulcan and human neurotransmitters, a symphony of sensation that resonates throughout my being. It is a profound reminder of our connection, a bond that transcends the boundaries of friendship and species. Each stroke of your thumb, each pulse of your heartbeat through your fingertips, is a declaration of affection that resonates with the very core of my existence. This is what your caress feels like to me.

Spock, that kiss... it's like... it's like the first time I saw Earth from orbit. Awe-inspiring, overwhelming, and utterly life-changing. The way your hand feels in mine, the way your lips touch mine, it's all so new, so alien, and yet, so fundamentally right. It's as if all the stars aligned just to show us this moment of connection.

Precisely, Dr. McCoy. That is what your touch on my hands feels like to me. A confluence of sensations that is both uncharted and profoundly familiar, as if our very atoms are reaching out to each other in silent communication. It is an intimacy that speaks to the essence of our bond, a bond that has grown stronger through the trials we have faced together. I am eager to explore the depths of this connection, to learn the intricacies of your human physiology, and to understand how it intertwines with my own.

Spock, I've seen a lot of strange things in my life, but I never thought I'd be here, holding your hand and feeling like this." McCoy's voice is a mix of wonder and affection. "But here we are, in the heart of the cosmos, finding something beautiful amidst the chaos. I'm ready to learn, to understand, and to grow with you. This is going to be one hell of an adventure, my friend.

McCoy's eyes searched Spock's, a question lingering unspoken between them. Does the human doctor crave another kiss like the one they've just shared? Does he wish to dive deeper into this newfound intimacy, to explore the vastness of their bond through the tender exchange of breath and touch? The way his gaze lingers on Spock's lips suggests a silent plea, an unspoken invitation for more. His pulse quickens, the warmth of their embrace a stark contrast to the cold metal of the observation deck beneath their feet.

Spock, ever attentive to McCoy's unspoken cues, leans in again, his hand still cradling the doctor's. Their kiss deepens, a silent conversation of love and curiosity. The warmth of McCoy's touch is mirrored in Spock's, his Vulcan mind open to the sensations, the uncharted territory of human passion. Their bodies seem to meld together, the vastness of the universe outside their window forgotten as they focus on the intimate space they now share.

They break apart, breathless. McCoy's hand moves to rest on Spock's side, feeling the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that matches his own. "I think we're going to need a lot of these moments, Spock," he murmurs, his voice a whisper of hope and desire. "To remind us of what we have, amidst the chaos of the stars."

Spock nods, his gaze never leaving McCoy's. "Agreed, doctor. In the face of the infinite, it is the finite moments of connection that provide us with meaning and purpose." His hand slides down to McCoy's waist, pulling him closer, the fabric of their uniforms the only barrier between them.

McCoy's smile is soft, his eyes shining with a newfound light. "I've got a feeling we're going to be rewriting the Starfleet Medical Manual together," he says, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Spock's eyebrow arches slightly, a Vulcan smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "I suspect that would be... illuminating," he says, his thumb tracing gentle circles on McCoy's wrist.

They stand in silence for a while longer, the quiet hum of the ship's engines a soothing backdrop to their shared revelations. McCoy's hand rests comfortably on Spock's hip, their bodies a warm presence in the cool observation deck.

The moment is broken by the chirp of a communicator. Kirk's voice, strong and steady, filters through the device. "Spock, Bones, we've got a situation on the bridge. A Romulan ship just entered our sector."

Spock's gaze snaps to the communicator on the console, the warmth of their embrace dissipating in an instant as the cold reality of their duty crashes back in. "Understood, Captain," he says, his voice a model of Vulcan composure despite the racing of his heart.

McCoy sighs, his grip on Spock's waist tightening briefly before he steps back, resuming his professional stance. "Looks like our little love nest's about to get interrupted," he murmurs, a touch of humor in his voice despite the gravity of the situation.

Spock nods, his hand sliding from McCoy's waist to briefly squeeze his shoulder. "We will continue this discussion later," he promises, the warmth in his eyes a silent reassurance that their newfound connection is not forgotten amidst the stars.

McCoy nods, reluctance in his eyes but understanding in his gaze. "Let's get to work, Spock." He releases Spock's hand and heads for the turbolift, the weight of their conversation a palpable presence in the room.

The turbolift whisks them away, and moments later, they arrive on the bustling bridge of the Enterprise. The tension is palpable as the crew springs into action, the usual banter replaced with focused determination. Kirk's eyes flicker briefly to the newfound closeness between his two closest friends, but he says nothing, focusing instead on the viewscreen.

The viewscreen flickers to life, revealing the cold, stoic visage of a Romulan commander. "This is the Romulan Warbird IRW Valdore," the disembodied voice declares, the words echoing through the bridge like a warning shot. "We are here to establish a peace treaty with the United Federation of Planets. You are to stand down and prepare for negotiations."

Kirk's jaw tightens, but his voice remains calm. "Acknowledged, Valdore. We're on our way to rendezvous with the Romulan delegation. Let's keep the channels open." He turns to Spock, his gaze flickering over the Vulcan's composed features. "How do you read this, Spock?"

"Their intentions are unclear, Captain," Spock replies, his voice measured. "However, the presence of a Romulan ship in Federation space is not a typical sign of peaceful overtures." His hand lingers on the controls, the echo of McCoy's touch still resonating within him.

"Understood, Spock." Kirk's gaze shifts to McCoy, noticing the lingering warmth in his eyes. "Bones, I need you to be ready for anything. This could be a medical emergency waiting to happen."

"Always am, Captain," McCoy says, his tone a blend of professionalism and a hint of amusement. He gives Kirk a knowing look before turning to his medical station, checking the readouts with a practiced ease.

The medical station on the bridge is a state-of-the-art piece of equipment, designed to monitor the vital signs of the crew in real-time. Its sleek, ergonomic design is a testament to Starfleet's commitment to the health and well-being of its officers. The biometric panels glow softly, displaying the life signs of everyone on the bridge. As McCoy approaches, the console flickers to life, displaying his own readings. His pulse, steadied from their intimate moment, begins to quicken as the weight of their newfound love mixes with the adrenaline of the incoming mission. He quickly checks Spock's readings as well, noticing the subtle changes in his friend's physiology that mirror his own emotional state. The medical station's array of sensors and monitors keep a constant vigil, ready to alert them to any sudden shifts in health or injury that could occur during their encounter with the Romulans.

The medical station is also linked directly to sickbay, acting as an extension of McCoy's medical domain. It allows him to monitor the condition of patients in sickbay from the bridge, displaying detailed readings from each biobed and listing any new patients that may arrive. This interconnectedness serves as an unspoken reminder of their shared responsibilities and the lives they are sworn to protect.

The Romulan Commander's message concludes with a specific instruction: "Prepare to transport to the designated moon asteroid for face-to-face negotiations. We await your arrival." The asteroid is a desolate, airless rock, pockmarked with ancient craters and scarred by the ravages of time and space. It's a neutral ground, chosen for its lack of strategic value, and yet, the very act of meeting there feels fraught with tension. Kirk nods to McCoy and Spock, a silent understanding passing between them. They are about to embark on a mission that could reshape the galaxy's balance of power, all while navigating the delicate dance of their own newfound love.

Kirk, Spock and McCoy make their way to the transporter room, their steps measured and purposeful. The room is filled with the low murmur of technicians preparing for the away mission. The air is thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as they suit up in their environmental suits. The suits are tailored to each man, form-fitting yet allowing for ease of movement. The material is a blend of metallic fibers and insulating polymers, designed to protect them from the vacuum of space and the extreme temperatures of the asteroid's surface. The suits are equipped with life support systems, communication devices, and a variety of medical and scientific instruments, reflecting the versatility required of Starfleet officers.

The space suits are a deep shade of blue, a color that not only identifies them as part of the Federation but also offers a stark contrast to the cold, lifeless asteroid. The functional elements of the suits are sleekly integrated, with the bulky life support systems and propulsion packs seamlessly melded into the ergonomic design. The helmets are rounded, with a clear visor that allows for unobstructed vision. The helmets' shape is reminiscent of an ancient knight's visor, a subtle nod to the medieval theme of the Grand Tournament they'd just left behind. The suits' aesthetic is a blend of utility and elegance, a testament to human innovation and the Starfleet ethos of exploration and diplomacy.

As they step onto the transporter pad, the technician who will be joining them, Lieutenant Castillo, checks the transporter coordinates one final time. Castillo is a young, sharp-eyed communications specialist, her function on this mission is to facilitate the conversation between the Federation and the Romulan delegation. Her skills in linguistics and diplomatic protocol are unparalleled, making her an invaluable asset in this delicate situation. Her presence is a reminder that, while Kirk, Spock, and McCoy might be the face of the Federation in these negotiations, they are backed by a team of highly trained individuals who each play a critical role in the success of their mission.

The transporter's hum fills the room, and the familiar sensation of dematerialization washes over them. For a brief moment, their atoms are scattered through the void of space before coalescing once more on the moon asteroid's surface. The asteroid is a peculiar sight, a barren, rocky body that dances in an intricate figure-eight pattern around both a planet and a star. The gravitational pull of this celestial ballet causes a gentle sway in their stances, a constant reminder of the precariousness of their position. The asteroid's orbit is swift, giving them the sensation of being on a moving platform, the horizon a blur of cosmic ballet. The stark beauty of the setting is a stark contrast to the gravity of their mission.

The Romulan delegation arrives, and the sight of them takes the trio by surprise. Their space suits are not the armored, angular designs that the Federation officers would have expected to see on Romulan military personnel. Instead, they are sleek, almost organic in their appearance, with a shimmering, iridescent quality that seems to reflect the light from the nearby star. The suits appear to be a blend of technology and biological material, the likes of which the Federation has never encountered. The suits hug their bodies like a second skin, the colors changing subtly as they move, hinting at a deep connection to the wearers' emotions or perhaps their very lifeforce. The absence of any visible seams or joints suggests a level of craftsmanship that borders on the metaphysical.

However, upon closer inspection, the Romulan space suits reveal an unexpected vulnerability. While the material itself is clearly advanced, the underlying structure seems to be held together by a patchwork of what appear to be rusty, makeshift pipes and cables. The components jut out at odd angles, creating an overall aesthetic that seems more suited to a pirate ship than a diplomatic mission. The Federation officers exchange glances, each recognizing the potential implications of such an unusual design choice. Are the Romulans trying to hide something? Or is this a display of their resourcefulness in the face of scarcity? The questions swirl in their minds as they prepare to greet their counterparts, the answers to which could very well dictate the course of their negotiations.

Kirk steps forward, extending his hand in a gesture of peace. "Welcome to the asteroid, esteemed Romulan delegation. I am Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise."

The Romulan Commander, a stoic figure with piercing eyes and a sharp jawline, steps forward to meet Kirk's gesture. His grip is firm, almost challenging, but he releases it without incident. "I am Commander Tavel," he says, his voice deep and measured. "We are here to discuss the terms of your surrender."

Kirk's smile never wavers, his eyes locking onto Tavel's. "Commander, there seems to be a misunderstanding. We were informed that we were to negotiate a peace treaty, not discuss a surrender. Perhaps there's been a miscommunication?"

The Romulan's gaze narrows slightly, his grip on Kirk's hand tightening before he releases it. "Very well," he says, his tone clipped. "Let us proceed with the 'peace treaty' as you call it."

As Kirk and Tavel begin their tense exchange, Lieutenant Castillo, ever the professional, steps forward to offer her expertise. "Commander Tavel," she says, her voice clear and calm despite the tension, "I've been studying the Romulan language in preparation for this meeting. May I offer some insight?"

Castillo's eyes dart between Kirk and Tavel, her mind racing through the nuances of Romulan linguistics. "The terms 'surrender' and 'peace treaty' are both rendered as 'yIqmey' in your language. However, the context and inflection can shift the meaning significantly. In the context you used, 'surrender' implies an unconditional capitulation, whereas 'peace treaty' suggests a mutual agreement reached through negotiation. It's possible that the translation we received was a bit... aggressive, compared to what you intended." She pauses, her gaze intent on the Romulan commander, her hands gesturing slightly to emphasize her points. "The subtleties of language can be as vast as the cosmos itself. Let us ensure we are speaking the same dialect of peace."

Tavel regards Castillo with a look that could freeze a star. "Your knowledge of our tongue is commendable, Lieutenant," he says, his words measured. "But unnecessary. I am quite capable of understanding my own language." His gaze flickers to Kirk, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "However, it seems Captain Kirk here is in need of a lesson in clarity." The Romulan's tone is sharp, a clear challenge.

Kirk's smile remains, the warmth in his eyes not wavering. "Perhaps so, Commander," he concedes with a graceful nod. "But I'd like to think we're all here to learn something today." He glances over his shoulder, a subtle cue to McCoy and Spock to stand firm but not escalate. "Let's get to the heart of the matter, shall we?"

The tension in the air is palpable as Tavel makes another linguistic error, using a term that, while technically correct, holds a more hostile connotation than intended. It's clear that the Romulan's grasp of diplomatic language is not as firm as he'd like to project. His words are like a double-edged sword, cutting through the peaceful façade of the negotiations.

Castillo's voice is a low murmur in the private comm channel only Kirk, Spock, and McCoy can hear. "Guys, I'm getting a weird vibe from Tavel's language. It's almost like he's not a native Romulan speaker." Her eyes dart to the Romulan delegation, her brow furrowed in thought. "His dialect, the way he's using certain phrases... it's not quite right."

Spock's voice, ever calm, responds through the comm. "Lieutenant Castillo's observation is not without merit, Captain. The commander's speech patterns and word choices are indeed... unorthodox for a Romulan of his rank."

Kirk's eyes narrow slightly as he considers Castillo's observation. "Spock, McCoy, do we think he isn't Romulan?" He asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern. "Or is he trying to throw us off balance with his language?" He glances back at Castillo, his gaze lingering for a moment before returning to Tavel. "Could be a ploy, or maybe he's just... unconventional."

McCoy's voice, filled with a hint of the Southern drawl that often emerges when he's thinking, comes through the comm. "Jim, I've seen a lot of things in my time, but a Romulan with a speech tic isn't one of 'em. This ain't just 'unorthodox', it's downright peculiar."

"Indeed, Captain," Spock agrees, his eyes locked on Tavel. "The linguistic anomalies suggest that he may be an imposter or someone who has had an unusual education."

Kirk nods thoughtfully at Castillo's observation. "What sort of unusual education could result in this, Castillo?" he asks, his eyes never leaving Tavel's. "Could he be a defector, perhaps, or someone raised outside traditional Romulan society?" Kirk's mind races with the implications, his hand resting casually on the phaser at his side.

Castillo considers the question, her expression a mask of concentration. "It's possible, Captain. But without further information, it's difficult to say for certain. We should proceed with caution and keep our eyes and ears open for any additional clues."

McCoy and Spock, picking up on Kirk's train of thought, begin to engage Tavel in conversation, steering it towards topics that would reveal more about his background and allegiances. They listen intently to his speech patterns, the way he structures his sentences, and his use of idiomatic expressions. It's a delicate dance, keeping the conversation flowing while simultaneously probing for inconsistencies.

Castillo's voice crackles over the comm. "Guys, I've got something. Tavel's use of pronouns is inconsistent with high-ranking Romulan officials. He's slipping between formal and informal usage, and it's not just nerves."

Kirk turns to Castillo with a furrowed brow. "What does that mean, Castillo?" he asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern. "Could he be trying to hide his true identity, or is there something else at play here?"

Castillo's eyes widen slightly. "I think, Captain, that Commander Tavel might be of extremely low caste. His language patterns are closer to those of a common laborer than a military leader. It's subtle, but it's definitely there."

Kirk's gaze sharpens as he processes Castillo's revelation. "So, he's not just pretending to be an officer," he murmurs to his comrades. "He's pretending to be something he's not entirely." His hand tightens slightly on his phaser, his thumb hovering over the activation switch. "This changes things. We need to be more cautious in our dealings."

"Understood, Captain," Spock replies, his voice calm and measured. "We must proceed with both tact and vigilance. It is possible that Commander Tavel's unconventional background provides us with an opportunity for a unique alliance or insight."

"If Tavel's from a lower caste, or perhaps even a farming background, then his intentions might be more peaceful than we first assumed," McCoy says. "Farmers are generally more inclined to the soil than to the sword, if you catch my drift. Could be that he's using this opportunity to bring a different perspective to the table, one less... entangled in the usual web of military strategy and deceit." His eyes, filled with a shrewdness that belies his usual gruffness, stay focused on the Romulan.

Kirk frowns slightly, mulling over Castillo's observation. "But then why pretend to be a warrior, if his intentions are peaceful?" Kirk whispers into his comm, his gaze never leaving Tavel. "Is he hiding something, or is he truly trying to bridge a gap between our cultures? We must tread carefully, my friends. This dance of words could be a prelude to a battle of wits, or a symphony of peace."

Kirk turns back to Tavel with a disarming smile. "Commander, may I extend an invitation for dinner aboard the Enterprise, just the two of us? I believe a more... intimate setting would allow us to discuss matters in greater comfort, without the distraction of our respective entourages." His eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as he adds, "And I've heard that Earth cuisine is quite the experience, even for a man of your... refined tastes." The unspoken challenge hangs in the air as Kirk waits for Tavel's response, his hand resting lightly on the phaser.

"Indeed, Captain," Spock says thoughtfully, his gaze flickering to McCoy before returning to Tavel. "Recently, I had the opportunity to indulge in some Earth delicacies. One dish that stood out to me was egg drop soup. The delicate interplay of flavors and textures is quite fascinating. And as for something a bit more... substantial, I believe you might find corndogs intriguing. They're a curious blend of the familiar and the exotic, much like our current situation." He offers a small, knowing smile, hinting at his own emotional growth and the depth of his experiences with human food.

Tavel regards Kirk and Spock with a cautious eye, his own hand resting on the hilt of a peculiar-looking dagger at his side. The tension is thick enough to cut with a lightsaber, but he nods. "Your hospitality is appreciated, Captain Kirk. Perhaps a private meeting will allow us to understand one another better." His gaze drifts to McCoy for a brief moment before returning to Kirk. "But beware, I come in peace, but I am not without protection."

The Starfleet personnel, with Kirk leading the way, begin their return journey to the USS Enterprise. As they prepare to beam up, Kirk's stride is filled with a blend of confidence and caution. His mind is racing with the implications of Tavel's background, piecing together the puzzle of this enigmatic figure. Upon reaching the ship, Kirk pauses for a moment, looking back at the asteroid shrinking in the viewscreen. "Corndogs, Spock?" he asks, a glimmer of excitement in his voice.

"Indeed, Captain," Spock replies, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "By presenting a variety of dishes to Commander Tavel, we may deduce more about his background based on his eating habits. Romulan cuisine is known for its complexity and subtlety, often mirroring their society's social structures. If he demonstrates familiarity with a particular dish, or exhibits a preference for certain flavors or textures, it may reveal whether he truly hails from a high-caste military background, or if his upbringing was more...humble."

Spock nods thoughtfully. "Our culinary exploration can serve a dual purpose, Captain. It can indeed provide us with a deeper insight into Commander Tavel's origins. Analyzing his preferences and reactions to Earth's diverse flavors may offer clues about his education and social upbringing. This could potentially allow us to pinpoint the region of Romulus from which he originates, or even the specific school of thought to which he was exposed." His gaze lingers on Kirk, his eyebrow slightly raised. "It is a delicate approach, but one that may yield valuable intel."

Kirk chuckles softly, his eyes alight with mischief. "I wish you could join us for dinner tonight, Spock. Your insights into Romulan culture and cuisine would be invaluable. But alas, it seems we'll have to rely on my untrained palate to gauge his reactions. I'll just have to trust my gut, and hope he doesn't see right through me when I ask for ketchup for the corndogs." He winks at Spock, the camaraderie between them unmistakable. "But fear not, my friend, I'll report back with every detail. Who knows, maybe he'll have a taste for something that'll give us the upper hand."

"Your adaptability is one of your most endearing qualities, Captain," Spock says, the corners of his mouth tw

"With your consent, Captain, I would like to install discreet observation equipment within your private dining quarters. This would enable Lieutenant Castillo and myself to monitor your interaction with Commander Tavel more closely," Spock suggests, his gaze intense. "The subtleties of his behavior and responses to various stimuli could provide critical information regarding his authenticity and intentions. It would be an invaluable tool in our quest for truth." His hand briefly touches his earpiece, indicating the seriousness of the situation. "The installation would be swift and unobtrusive, leaving no trace of our surveillance."

Kirk nods, his expression a mix of amusement and determination. "Alright, Spock. But make sure it's not so discreet that I can't find the 'off' switch if things get too... intimate." He winks, his voice low enough for only the Vulcan to hear. "I appreciate your concern, but I've dealt with more than one slippery character in my day. Besides, if he's not what he seems, a little one-on-one time might be just what we need to get to the bottom of this."

Having made their preparations, Spock, Castillo, and McCoy are ensconced in the observing room, their eyes glued to the screens as they await the arrival of Commander Tavel. The room is dimly lit, filled with the quiet hum of the ship's systems, their breaths almost audible in the tension. On the viewscreen, Tavel's shuttlecraft approaches the Enterprise, and they watch as he disembarks, his outfit a curious blend of opulence and haste. The fabrics are rich and luxurious, yet the tailoring is uneven, the garments not quite fitting as they should. It's as if he's trying too hard to appear highborn, or perhaps he's just not accustomed to such finery. His boots, though shiny, look as though they've been hastily polished, and his cuffs are slightly frayed.

Kirk, ever the charmer, meets Tavel in his private dining quarters. The room is set with a small, round table, the lighting soft and the air fragrant with the aroma of exotic spices. He pours two glasses of Saurian brandy, a nod to their shared interest in unique experiences. "Commander, I hope you find our meal tonight as... intriguing as I find your background," Kirk says with a shameless smile that could melt the coldest of Vulcan ice. His eyes sweep over Tavel, assessing his reaction to the setting and the drink. "To new beginnings, and perhaps, the unraveling of old secrets."

Tavel's eyes follow the amber liquid as Kirk swirls it in the glass, the light playing off the edges. He raises his glass in a silent toast, his expression unreadable. His gaze meets Kirk's, and for a moment, the weight of his unspoken words seems to hang in the air.

As the meal unfolds, Tavel tries everything that's offered: the corndogs with a smear of ketchup, the egg drop soup, and even the dessert, which Kirk describes as a "universal favorite" - chocolate lava cake. His willingness to partake in Earth cuisine is not what surprises the observing trio. It's his indiscriminate use of ketchup that catches their attention. He dips the corndog, the eggs from the soup, even a spoonful of the molten chocolate into the condiment, watching the reactions of his host with a twinkle in his eye. His eating habits, so uncharacteristic of a Romulan, leave Castillo, Spock, and McCoy bewildered. They cross-reference his behavior with known Romulan customs and regional preferences, but nothing fits. His palate seems to have no allegiance to any particular place on Romulus, which only deepens the mystery surrounding his identity.

Kirk leans in closer to Tavel, his smile turning a notch more charming. "Tell me, Commander," he says, his voice a purr of curiosity, "have you ever tried Earth's famous apple pie?" He gestures to the plate in front of Tavel, where a slice of the golden-crusted dessert awaits. "I find it to be quite... comforting. A taste of home, no matter where in the galaxy one might be."

Kirk's eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans in closer to Tavel, his hand resting gently on the table, close to the Romulan's. "You know, I've always found that the most interesting conversations happen over the most unexpected meals," he says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate timbre. "Like how your palate seems to be as... diverse as your life story." His gaze lingers on Tavel's face, taking in every twitch, every flicker of emotion that dances across his features. "The way you handle that ketchup, it's almost like watching a poet with a sonnet. You're either a master of disguise, or you're not from the upper echelons of Romulan society." He takes a sip of his brandy, his eyes never leaving Tavel's. "So, which is it, Commander? Are you the sonnet, or the poet hiding behind it?" Kirk's flirtatious tone is unmistakable, the question hanging in the air like the sweet scent of the apple pie between them.

Tavel's expression flickers with interest at Kirk's flirtation, his eyes lighting up with a spark that suggests he's not entirely immune to the captain's charm. However, the direct question about his origins seems to catch him off guard. He pauses, his hand hovering over the ketchup bottle as if frozen in place. The air in the room grows thick with anticipation, the only sound the faint clinking of silverware against china. For a moment, it seems as though he might reveal something profound. Then, with a coy smile, he replies, "Ah, Captain, you flatter me. I assure you, my palate is as refined as any sonnet you might compose." He pours a dollop of ketchup onto his apple pie, watching Kirk's reaction with a glint of amusement. "But the beauty of diversity, as I'm sure you're aware, is that it often hides the most intriguing secrets." He takes a bite, his cheeks dimpling slightly as he savors the combination, leaving Kirk and the others to wonder just how much of his past he's willing to reveal.

Tavel, seemingly unfazed by the tension, meets Kirk's gaze with a knowing smile. He leans in slightly, his voice taking on a flirtatious edge. "And what of you, Captain?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Is your appetite as... versatile as your reputation suggests?" The subtle innuendo hangs in the air as he takes a deliberate bite of his apple pie, now smothered in ketchup. His gaze never leaves Kirk's, a silent challenge that seems to echo through the private dining quarters. The crew, hidden in the observation room, exchanges glances, their eyes wide with surprise at the sudden shift in dynamics. Castillo's fingers fly over her console, recording every detail of the exchange, while Spock's eyebrow raises in his signature display of curiosity. McCoy, for his part, watches with a mix of skepticism and fascination, his thoughts racing with the implications of Tavel's playful banter.

Kirk laughs, a rich, warm sound that fills the room. "My appetite, Commander, is as vast as the universe itself," he says, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I've found that the most... enlightening experiences often come from the most unexpected places." He leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed yet inviting. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me more about your journey, your life on Romulus. Perhaps we'll find some common ground, or at least some common flavors." His hand reaches out to cover Tavel's briefly, a gesture that's both comforting and slightly seductive. "After all, isn't that what this dinner is about? Finding connections in a sea of stars?" Kirk's willingness to engage on a personal level, even in the face of potential danger and deceit, showcases his fearlessness and his belief in the power of unity and understanding.

As Kirk's hand covers Tavel's, a sudden telepathic connection flares to life, more intense than the one he shares with Spock. It's as though a door has been thrown open in Tavel's mind, and Kirk can feel the tumult of emotions and thoughts swirling within. The words 'duty' and 'secrets' resonate through the link, almost as if Tavel had spoken them aloud. Kirk's eyes widen slightly, but he recovers quickly, his smile never faltering. The warmth of the connection seems to spread from their hands, a silent conversation happening between them that's far more revealing than any words spoken. For a brief moment, Kirk sees glimpses of a life filled with hardship and loss, of a man torn between duty and desire. It's clear that Tavel is not what he seems, and that his true intentions are shrouded in a complex web of allegiance and personal struggle. The telepathic bond, though unanticipated, offers Kirk a new avenue of understanding, one that could potentially unravel the mystery of Tavel's identity and the fate of their peace treaty.

Kirk's gaze locks onto Tavel's, a silent understanding passing between them. "Perhaps," Kirk murmurs, his voice thick with a newfound desire that's not entirely related to diplomacy. "Perhaps we can share more than just a meal tonight." His hand slides away, leaving a trail of warmth on Tavel's skin. "A shared experience, a moment of... unity, might just be the key to unlocking the secrets we both hold so closely." The air in the room crackles with tension, the promise of something more than friendship or diplomacy lingering in the words left unsaid. Kirk's intentions are clear: to get closer to Tavel, to understand him on a level that goes beyond words and negotiations. It's a gamble, a play for trust, but one that Kirk is willing to make if it means ensuring peace for the Federation.

In the observing room, Spock and McCoy notice the sudden change in Kirk's demeanor and the electric charge in the air. They exchange puzzled glances, unaware of the telepathic exchange that has just occurred. Castillo's eyes narrow as she watches the screen, her mind racing to piece together the implications of what she's witnessing. Spock's mind, ever analytical, races through possible scenarios and outcomes, while McCoy feels a twinge of concern for his captain's safety. The connection between Kirk and Tavel, though unspoken, is palpable. It's as if they're dancing around a truth that neither is quite ready to reveal, their every gesture and glance laden with meaning. The dinner has become a dance of wills, a silent negotiation where the prize is not just peace, but a deeper understanding of the soul of their potential ally.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Kirk, Tavel had felt the captain's thoughts brushing against his own during their telepathic touch. The emotions, the curiosity, the hope for unity - it all floods into Tavel's mind, a torrent of human emotion that he's not fully prepared to handle. His eyes widen in surprise, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards slightly. He knows now that Kirk is not just a skilled diplomat, but a man of depth and empathy, one who might truly understand the weight of the secrets he carries. This revelation adds a new layer to their interaction, a complex web of unspoken truths that could either strengthen their bond or lead to catastrophic consequences.

As the evening progresses, Kirk's attraction to Tavel's enigmatic personality becomes increasingly evident. His eyes are drawn to every subtle movement, every flicker of expression on the Romulan's face. Tavel seems to carry the weight of the world within him, and Kirk is irresistibly drawn to the challenge of uncovering the layers beneath the surface. The telepathic connection has only intensified Kirk's feelings, allowing him to sense the maelstrom of emotions that Tavel so carefully hides from the world. It's not just the thrill of the chase that captivates him, but the tantalizing promise of a genuine connection, a bridge between two vastly different worlds. The captain finds himself torn between his duty to the Federation and his growing desire to know Tavel on a level that goes beyond the political. The air is charged with potential, each bite of food, each sip of brandy a silent declaration of intent.

Finally, unable to resist the pull any longer, Kirk leans in and kisses Tavel, a gesture that's part seduction, part declaration of intent. The kiss is deep and searching, a silent plea for understanding and a promise of protection. Tavel's initial surprise melts into something warmer, something that feels suspiciously like yearning. His arms encircle Kirk, pulling him closer, as their lips move in a silent dance of passion. The room spins around them, the stars outside the windows forgotten as the only universe that matters is the one where their hearts and minds are entwined. This intimate moment, shrouded in secrets and hope, could very well be the turning point in their delicate game of diplomacy. It's a risk, a gamble that could cost them everything, but in the heat of the moment, Kirk and Tavel are willing to take that chance. The observing trio in the next room watches the screen, their eyes wide with shock and concern, unsure of what this unexpected turn of events will mean for the future of the peace treaty and the fate of their mission.

As Kirk and Tavel succumb to their desires and begin to disrobe, the reality of their situation crashes back in like a wave. The cameras! Kirk had been so caught up in the moment that he'd forgotten to disable them. A sudden realization hits him like a photon torpedo, and he pulls back, his eyes darting around the room. "The cameras," he whispers, a hint of panic in his voice. Tavel's eyes follow Kirk's gaze to the hidden equipment that speaks of the audience he never knew they had. The passion in the air dissipates, replaced by a chilling realization of their mistake.

Kirk pulls away from Tavel, a look of regret crossing his features. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Not like this." He runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing as he tries to process the gravity of their actions. "The cameras, they're still on." His eyes meet Tavel's, filled with a mix of embarrassment and concern. "We can't let this compromise our mission. Our personal feelings... they can't get in the way of what we're here to do." Kirk's tone is earnest, his gaze pleading for understanding. The gravity of the situation settles over them like a heavy blanket, reminding them of the precarious tightrope they're walking between passion and duty.

Tavel's expression darkens as he realizes the full implications of Kirk's actions. The warmth of their shared moment evaporates, replaced by a cold, hard anger. "You had me under surveillance," he says, his voice icy. "You don't trust me." The accusation hangs in the air, sharp as a d'k tahg blade. It's a blow to Kirk, who had thought their connection was something more than mere strategy. The realization that he's hurt Tavel, possibly irrevocably, is written all over his face.

In the observation room, Spock, McCoy, and Castillo watch in stunned silence. The implications of what they've just witnessed are vast. McCoy's hand reaches for the control panel, his thumb hovering over the button to cut the feed. Spock's eyes narrow, his mind racing through the potential consequences of their captain's impulsive action. Castillo's gaze flickers between the two men, her thoughts racing as she tries to understand the complex web of emotions and diplomacy that's been laid bare before them. The tension in the air is palpable, even through the screens.

Kirk takes a deep breath, his hand reaching out to touch Tavel's arm gently. "No, that's not it," he says, his voice earnest. "You must believe me, Tavel. I do trust you. I want you, not just for this peace, but... for more." His eyes are filled with a raw, unfiltered need that speaks louder than any words could. "This dinner, this... connection between us, it's not just for show. I want to understand you, to know you, to share something real. But we can't let our feelings jeopardize what we're fighting for." He pauses, his hand trembling slightly. "I want this peace, more than anything. And I know you do too."

Kirk swallows hard, his voice thick with emotion. "Tavel, please, forgive me," he says, his eyes searching Tavel's face for any sign of understanding. "I never meant to deceive you or make you feel unsafe. I know that what just happened may have changed everything, but I'm begging you, don't let it ruin what we're building here." He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you can't find it in your heart to continue our... personal negotiations, I'll understand. But for the sake of our peoples, for the sake of peace, I implore you, don't let this end the peace talks." His hand slides down to Tavel's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You can bring anyone you trust, any protections you need. Just don't let this be the end."

Tavel's anger cools slightly at Kirk's words, his expression morphing into one of contemplation. The room remains silent, the weight of their conversation pressing down on them like the gravity of a star. He looks at Kirk's hand on his own, the warmth of the captain's touch grounding him amidst the turmoil. Finally, he nods, a single, slow movement that speaks volumes. "I understand," he says, his voice low and tightly controlled. "But know this, Kirk: the line you've crossed tonight isn't easily forgotten." His eyes hold Kirk's, a silent promise of repercussions that could ripple through their future interactions.

With a curt nod, Tavel withdraws his hand from Kirk's grasp and stands, his movements stiff with unspoken anger. He strides out of the dining quarters, leaving Kirk to contemplate the tumult of emotions that have just been unleashed. In the observation room, Spock, McCoy, and Castillo watch as the captain of the Enterprise emerges, his expression a blend of regret and determination. The air is thick with unspoken words, the tension palpable as Kirk joins them, his eyes sweeping over the trio. "Let's debrief," he says, his voice steady despite the tumult within.

As they enter the briefing room, Kirk orders the recording to be played back, his gaze never leaving Tavel's retreating form. The room is silent except for the hum of the computer as it rewinds the footage. They watch the kiss, the passion, and then the sudden retreat. The silence is heavy, filled with the unspoken questions and concerns that linger in the air. When the recording ends, Kirk turns to face his friends, his expression a mask of resolve. "We can't let this affect our mission," he says firmly. "We have to find a way to move forward, to ensure peace. Tavel's trust is crucial, and we must do everything in our power to regain it."

Castillo clears her throat, her voice calm and measured. "Spock and I have concluded from the dinner that Commander Tavel is indeed an imposter," she says, her eyes never leaving Kirk's. "His dialect, his mannerisms, they're all off. We suspect he's not from the ruling class, which explains his lack of formal training and his ability to be manipulated. His emotional response to your... approach, Captain, suggests a man who's been living a lie for too long." She pauses, allowing Kirk's words to sink in before continuing. "The peace treaty is at risk, but we may have an opportunity here. If we can convince him to work with us, to trust us, he could be a valuable asset in our negotiations."

Spock's voice cuts through the tension, cold and logical as ever. "Indeed, Captain," he says, his gaze unwavering. "Our analysis of Tavel's speech patterns and behavior at dinner have led us to deduce that he is not from any part of Romulus we are familiar with. His emotional reaction to your advances suggests a man who has been living under a false identity for an extended period. This information could be instrumental in securing the peace treaty, if handled correctly."

Kirk nods solemnly, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "Thank you, Castillo, Spock," he says, his eyes never leaving the screen. "It seems we've stumbled upon a deeper layer to this puzzle than we anticipated. It's not that Tavel isn't from Romulus, but rather that he's been living a lie, a shadow of the life he was born into. He's one of their slaves, plucked from his own world and thrust into a role he never chose." His voice is soft, filled with empathy. "We must tread carefully, for his trust is as fragile as the peace we seek to maintain. If we can convince him to ally with us, to share his truth, he could be the key to bridging the gap between our worlds. But we must ensure his safety, and treat him with the dignity and respect he's been denied for too long."

Spock raises an eyebrow at Kirk's revelation, his surprise hidden behind his Vulcan mask. "Fascinating," he says, his tone measured. "The nuances in Commander Tavel's language and behavior, particularly during our intimate dinner conversation, were inconsistent with those of a typical Romulan of his rank. His unguarded moments offered a glimpse into a life fraught with deception and struggle. If he is indeed a product of slavery, it may explain his emotional volatility and susceptibility to manipulation. Understanding his true nature is essential to forming an alliance based on mutual trust and respect." His gaze sharpens. "But we must proceed with caution, Captain. We cannot afford to underestimate the complexity of this situation or the potential repercussions of our actions."

"But how do you know he's a slave, Captain?" Spock's question is not one of doubt, but of inquiry into Kirk's line of reasoning. "The subtleties of his speech patterns, his unorthodox use of ketchup, and his reaction to the telepathic bond we shared all point towards a life of subjugation and survival," Kirk explains, his eyes reflecting the gravity of his words. "Tavel's emotional response to our connection was not that of a typical Romulan diplomat. It was raw, desperate. He craves understanding, and perhaps even love. We must be cautious in our approach, but also firm in our resolve to support him. If he truly is a slave, then our mission has taken on an even greater significance. We're not just negotiating peace; we're offering him a chance at freedom."

Kirk takes a deep breath, his eyes reflecting the weight of his revelation. "I saw it, Spock," he says, his voice heavy with the gravity of what he's about to share. "When we kissed, and our thoughts melded, I saw glimpses of his past. The way he was treated by his masters, the beatings, the humiliation, the fear. It was like watching a silent scream echo through the years. His pain was so palpable, so intense." Kirk's hand clenches into a fist at his side, a rare show of emotion from the usually stoic captain. "I know it in my bones. Tavel is not just a diplomat; he's a survivor, a man who's been forced to wear a mask his entire life. And now, he's found a moment of truth with us. We can't turn our backs on that." His eyes meet Spock's, filled with a fierce determination. "We'll find a way to help him, to bring him into the light. And in doing so, we might just save our own worlds."

Spock processes Kirk's words, his eyebrow raising slightly. "Indeed, Captain," he says, his tone reflecting his surprise. "The depth of your telepathic bond with Commander Tavel is significantly stronger than what I have ever shared with you. It suggests a profound emotional connection that transcends species barriers. This is... unprecedented." He pauses, his gaze thoughtful. "It is imperative that we handle this delicately. The implications of such a bond are vast, and the potential for both good and harm is significant. If Tavel is indeed a slave, as you suspect, then we must navigate this situation with precision. Our actions could either be the catalyst for a new era of peace and understanding or the spark that ignites a galactic war." Spock's voice is calm, but the tension in his words is clear. "Your empathy and intuition are your greatest assets in this, Captain. I trust your judgment in this matter."

Spock's gaze remains on Kirk, his mind racing with the implications of their captain's revelation. "The telepathic bond you described, Captain, suggests that Commander Tavel may indeed come from a species more telepathically adept than even the Vulcans and Romulans," he says, his voice measured and precise. "His emotional responses, while unexpected, could be a result of his species' heightened sensitivity to mental connections. If we are to proceed with this newfound information, we must tread lightly. The Romulan Empire is known for its secrets, and this could be one they are desperate to keep hidden." He pauses, his eyes flickering to the recording of Tavel. "Our mission is now twofold: to secure the peace treaty and to understand the true nature of our enigmatic ally. We must be prepared for any eventuality, for the balance of power in the galaxy may hinge upon our actions here."

Just as the tension in the room begins to ease, the comms system chirps to life, and Tavel's voice fills the briefing room. "Captain Kirk," he says, his tone cool and measured despite the recent intimacy. "I have sent a proposal for our next meeting. I await your confirmation." Kirk's eyes widen slightly, and he glances at Spock and McCoy before responding. "Thank you, Commander," he says, his voice steady. "We will review the details and get back to you shortly." The line goes silent, and the room is filled with the quiet hum of the ship's systems. Kirk turns to his officers, his expression a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Gentlemen, it seems we have our next move. Let's review the plans and prepare for what lies ahead. We have a peace to secure and a truth to uncover." The crew nods, the gravity of their mission weighing heavily on their shoulders as they disperse to their stations, ready to face whatever the cosmos has in store for them.

As the crew gathers around the holographic projection of the next meeting's location, Tavel's message comes through with additional details. "Our next meeting will be held at the neutral zone station, the Atheneum," Kirk reads, his eyes scanning the data. "Tavel is taking significant precautions. He will be accompanied by a small contingent of his most trusted guards, and he has requested a private room with no recording devices. He insists on a face-to-face negotiation, without the interference of telepathic surveillance." Kirk looks up at Spock and McCoy, his eyes filled with a mix of excitement and concern. "This could be our chance to win his trust, but we must be ready for anything. This meeting could either cement our alliance or shatter it completely."

Upon arrival at the Atheneum, the Enterprise crew is greeted by the grandeur of the ancient station. The Atheneum is a sprawling, circular structure that seems to float in the vastness of space, its gleaming silver hull adorned with intricate carvings that reflect the light of nearby stars. It's a relic from a bygone era, a testament to the beauty and ingenuity of the civilizations that once thrived in this part of the galaxy. As the Enterprise docks, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy make their way to the transporter room, their eyes scanning the grandeur of the station's central hub. The air is thick with anticipation as they step onto the gleaming transporter pad, the whine of the transporter's engines the only sound as they are beamed into the heart of the Atheneum. The transporter room's walls are lined with ancient texts and artifacts, the air scented with the faint aroma of aged parchment and metal. The floor beneath them is a mosaic of interlocking metallic tiles, each one telling a story of the cosmos in a language long forgotten. The lighting is soft, casting a warm glow that seems to emanate from the very walls themselves, creating an atmosphere that is both welcoming and eerie.

They step off the transporter pad and into the bustling corridor of the Atheneum. The walls are lined with more of the ancient texts and artifacts, a silent testament to the knowledge and history contained within the station. The corridor is wide and high-ceilinged, with arched doorways leading to various chambers. The air is cool and still, and the footsteps of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy echo faintly as they make their way to the designated meeting room. The room itself is a study in contrasts: the grandeur of the station's architecture is juxtaposed with the stark functionality of the conference table and chairs that await them. The walls are adorned with ancient tapestries depicting scenes of diplomacy and war, a stark reminder of the fragility of peace. The table is large and round, with enough space for all parties to sit comfortably, yet the chairs are sparse, as if to emphasize the gravity of the situation. Kirk takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment upon his shoulders. "This is it," he murmurs to his companions. "The future of the galaxy rests on what we do here today." Spock and McCoy nod solemnly, their expressions mirroring the captain's determination. They enter the room, ready to face whatever challenges await them in their quest for peace and truth.

The Romulan guards are already present when Kirk, Spock, and McCoy enter the private meeting room. Their eyes scan the space meticulously, their tricorders held discreetly but clearly ready to detect any surveillance devices. They sweep the room in a silent ballet of precision, their movements fluid and practiced. Each guard focuses on a different section of the room, checking behind tapestries, under the table, and even the very air itself for any signs of electronic espionage. They pay particular attention to the chairs and the light fixtures, areas known for concealing such devices. Kirk and his officers watch the process with a mix of admiration and anxiety, understanding the gravity of the situation. The room falls into a tense silence as the guards complete their sweep, their expressions unreadable behind their helmets. Finally, the leader of the contingent nods to Tavel, who stands by the far wall, his eyes never leaving Kirk. "The room is secure, Commander," the guard says, his voice a low rumble. Tavel nods in satisfaction, and the tension in the room relaxes ever so slightly. "Let us begin," he says, gesturing to the table. Kirk takes his seat, his gaze locked with Tavel's, as the fate of their worlds hangs in the balance.

As they take their seats at the round table, Kirk notices that the Romulan guards have made a peculiar gesture: they have each placed a pair of gloves before their respective seats. The gloves are made of a shimmering, metallic fabric that seems to absorb light. Recognizing the implication, Kirk nods to his own officers, and they too don the gloves. The material is cool to the touch, and as they slip them on, the gloves seem to mold to their hands, leaving no gaps for telepathic interference. The room's atmosphere shifts, the air thick with the unspoken understanding that this meeting will be conducted under the strictest of conditions. The gloves serve as a silent reminder of the distrust that still lingers between their two species, a barrier that Kirk is determined to breach. Despite the physical separation, Kirk feels the weight of his bond with Tavel, the telepathic connection pulsing faintly beneath the surface. He knows that the success of their mission hinges on their ability to communicate not just with words, but with the unspoken truths that resonate between them. With a deep breath, Kirk opens the negotiation, his voice steady and firm. "Commander Tavel," he begins, "let us speak of peace and the future we wish to share." The room holds its breath, the fate of their worlds hanging on the delicate thread of their words.

Tavel's eyes narrow slightly at Kirk's opening statement, his expression a mask of calm control. "Peace is a fragile thing, Captain," he says, his voice carrying the weight of his own tumultuous past. "It requires more than words. It requires understanding, and perhaps, a willingness to sacrifice for the greater good." Kirk nods, his own eyes reflecting the same determination. "We are here to offer that understanding, Commander," he says. "And to prove that the Federation values peace above all else." Spock interjects, his voice calm and measured. "Our analyses indicate that the stability of the Romulan Empire may be at risk. The information you provide could be instrumental in preventing a catastrophic war." Tavel's gaze flickers to Spock, then back to Kirk. "The Empire is not what it seems," he admits, his voice dropping to a whisper. "There are forces at play that neither of us can fully comprehend. But I believe, together, we might find a way to change its course." The room is silent for a moment, the gravity of Tavel's words weighing on them all. Then, with a slow, deliberate gesture, Tavel reaches across the table and removes his gloves, placing them neatly beside his plate. His hands are pale and smooth, the veins standing out in stark relief against the harsh lighting. Kirk and his officers exchange a look, understanding the silent challenge that has been laid before them. With a nod to McCoy, Kirk reaches for his own gloves, pulling them off to reveal his own calloused human hands. The act is a declaration of trust, a silent promise that they are willing to lay bare their intentions. The tension in the room shifts again, the air charged with a newfound sense of possibility.

Tavel takes Kirk's bare hands in his own, the gesture a declaration of his own willingness to trust. He closes his eyes, and for a moment, Kirk feels a gentle brush against his mind, the telepathic bond between them flickering to life. And then, Tavel shows him. He shows Kirk scenes from his past, stark and vivid, as if they were happening in the very room they sat in. Kirk sees the cramped, shadowy spaces where Tavel grew up, the fear and despair etched into the faces of his fellow Reman slaves. He sees the brutal conditions they endured, the whips and the chains, the endless toil. He feels the anger and the helplessness that has fueled Tavel's rebellion, the burning desire for freedom that has driven him to this point. And then, the scenes shift. Kirk witnesses the underground Railroad that Tavel has helped to build, the secret network that smuggles Reman slaves to freedom in Federation space. He sees the risks Tavel has taken, the lives he has saved, and the lives he has lost. The Remans that fear the Federation, their eyes filled with suspicion and hope in equal measure. The images flood Kirk's mind, painting a picture of a world in turmoil, a world where the oppressed are fighting back. Tavel's voice echoes in Kirk's thoughts, a soft, insistent whisper. "We need you, Captain. We need the Federation's help. We need to be seen, to be heard. To be accepted." Kirk's heart swells with emotion, the depth of Tavel's pain and determination resonating within him. He squeezes Tavel's hands in a silent promise, his eyes filled with a newfound resolve. "We will help you," he says, his voice firm. "We will stand with you, and together, we will forge a new future for our peoples." Spock and McCoy exchange a look, the gravity of the moment not lost on them. They know that this is not just a peace treaty they are negotiating; it is the fate of an entire race.

Kirk nods solemnly, recognizing the gravity of the situation. He decides to proceed with the utmost caution, treating Tavel as if he were indeed a high-ranking Romulan, authorized to speak for the Empire. He knows that any mention of the Remans would be met with hostility and suspicion, so he keeps his thoughts guarded, allowing Tavel to guide the conversation. "Your insights are invaluable, Commander," Kirk says, his voice carrying the weight of his newfound understanding. "We are committed to maintaining peace and stability in the galaxy. If there is a way we can assist in achieving that goal, please, share it with us." Tavel's grip tightens slightly on Kirk's hands, his eyes still closed as he continues to transmit his memories. Kirk feels a swell of emotion, the pain and hope of an entire people laid bare before him. He knows that he must tread carefully, that one wrong move could mean the difference between peace and war. But he also knows that he cannot turn away from the truth. "We are here to listen, and to learn," Kirk adds, his voice a gentle assurance. "Your people's plight will not be ignored." The room is still, the only sound the faint hum of the station's systems, a reminder of the vastness of space that surrounds them. The bond between Kirk and Tavel is palpable, a silent promise that transcends the barriers of species and rank. And as they sit there, joined by their shared quest for peace, the captain of the Enterprise knows that he has found an ally in the most unlikely of places.

With a deep exhale, Kirk nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. They put their gloves back on, the metallic fabric shielding their thoughts once more. Kirk's hands are warm and slightly damp from the intensity of the telepathic exchange. He gathers his thoughts, the images of Tavel's past still vivid in his mind. "Very well," he says, his voice firm. "We will proceed with the treaty negotiations. But know this, Commander: I am committed to the freedom and equality of all sentient beings. If there is a way to support your people without compromising the peace we seek, I will find it." Tavel's eyes open, and he regards Kirk with a newfound respect. "Thank you, Captain," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your compassion does not go unnoticed." Spock and McCoy exchange a look, their expressions unreadable. They know that Kirk has just made a promise that could have far-reaching consequences. But they also know that their captain's heart is in the right place, and that he will do whatever it takes to ensure that justice prevails. They resume their seats, their eyes on Tavel, as the negotiations begin in earnest. The words flow smoothly, the treaty's language precise and nuanced. Each point is debated, each clause scrutinized. And all the while, the unspoken understanding between Kirk and Tavel hangs in the air, a silent pact that goes beyond the terms of the agreement they are crafting. The future is uncertain, but in this moment, they are united in their pursuit of a better tomorrow. The room seems to hold its breath as they hammer out the details, their voices the only sound in the ancient chamber. And when at last the terms are agreed upon, they stand, their hands joined once more, not in a telepathic bond, but in a handshake of friendship and mutual respect. The treaty is signed, the ink still wet on the ancient parchment, and the room feels lighter, as if a great burden has been lifted. They have taken the first step towards a new era of peace, and Kirk knows that this is only the beginning.

As the treaty is signed, Kirk and Tavel come to a silent understanding. The immediate emancipation of the Reman slaves is not feasible due to the complex societal structures and power dynamics at play within the Romulan Empire. However, Kirk is determined to honor the promise made during their telepathic exchange. According to their new agreement, the Federation will offer economic and technological aid to help the Empire gradually reduce its reliance on slave labor. This assistance will be provided discreetly, allowing the Romulan government to save face while enacting the necessary changes internally. Tavel is hopeful that this alliance will lead to the eventual abolition of slavery within his people's society. The treaty is a delicate balance, a strategic dance of words and intentions that both sides are aware could be their salvation or their downfall. Yet, as they part ways, Kirk can't help but feel a spark of hope. The Federation's assistance is not just about politics or power; it's about recognizing the inherent dignity and worth of every sentient being. As they step back onto the transporter pad, the warmth of their newfound alliance a stark contrast to the cold metal beneath their feet, Kirk knows that they have forged a bond that could reshape the destiny of two great civilizations. The light of the transporter beam envelops them, and as they fade from the Atheneum, they carry with them the weight of their shared promise and the hope for a brighter future.

The trio of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy beam back to the Enterprise, their thoughts still reeling from the intense and emotionally charged meeting with Tavel. As they step off the transporter pad, they are met with an unexpected sight: the corridor is filled with Romulan officers and soldiers from Tavel's ship. The air is thick with tension, the Romulans' expressions a mix of confusion and suspicion. Kirk quickly assesses the situation, his hand instinctively moving to the phaser at his side. "We come in peace," he declares, his voice echoing through the corridor. The Romulans stare at them, their eyes narrowed. "Commander Tavel has agreed to our terms," Kirk continues, his voice firm but calm. "We are now allies in the pursuit of peace and justice." The Romulans look to one another, then back to Kirk, their confusion slowly giving way to surprise and, in some cases, anger. "We must inform them of the treaty," Spock says, his voice low. "Their understanding is critical to the success of our mission." Kirk nods, stepping forward. "This is Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock," he says, his voice carrying the authority of a seasoned diplomat. "We have negotiated a peace treaty that will benefit both our peoples. We ask for your cooperation and trust in this delicate matter." The Romulans hesitate, their eyes flickering to the gloves in Kirk's pocket, evidence of the intimate bond he shares with their commander. Slowly, they begin to lower their weapons, their suspicion replaced by curiosity. Kirk knows that this is just the beginning. The real challenge will be convincing the rest of the Romulan Empire to follow Tavel's lead. But for now, they have taken the first step on a journey that could redefine the very fabric of the galaxy.

During their discussions, the Romulans have presented a critical request to Kirk. They seek a planet within Federation space where they can establish a colony for the Reman refugees. This would be a monumental gesture of goodwill, showing that the Federation is committed to the long-term stability and prosperity of the Reman people. Kirk considers the implications of such an offer, the potential political and social ramifications, and the logistical challenges involved. He knows that finding a suitable planet will not be easy; it must be a place that can sustain Romulan life, be far enough from any existing colonies to avoid conflict, and be strategically advantageous to neither side. Yet, the opportunity to provide a new home for the oppressed Remans is one that Kirk cannot ignore. He looks at Spock, who meets his gaze with a knowing nod. They both understand the gravity of the request. "We will begin the search immediately," Kirk tells Tavel, his voice firm. "Our science and exploration teams will work tirelessly to find a suitable location. We stand with you in this endeavor." Tavel's eyes light up with hope, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Captain," he says. "I am sure the Remans will be grateful for your compassion." The crew of the Enterprise now faces a new mission, one that could have profound implications for the future of the galaxy. They must navigate the complexities of interspecies politics, the vastness of uncharted space, and the depths of their own hearts as they seek a new home for the Romulan refugees. The challenge is great, but so is the potential for change. And as they set a course for the unknown, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy are united in their determination to bring peace and justice to all corners of the cosmos.

The Romulan contingent aboard the Enterprise informs Kirk that they have been tasked with preparing the selected colony planet for the Reman refugees' arrival. The planet, a veritable Eden in a sea of stars, has been meticulously chosen for its ability to support Romulan and Reman life and its strategic neutrality. The crew, now a blend of Starfleet officers and Romulan soldiers, work tirelessly to construct shelters, establish agricultural centers, and lay the groundwork for a society that has known only oppression. Kirk paces the bridge, his eyes on the viewscreen as the planet grows larger. The sight of the blue-green world fills him with a sense of hope and purpose. He turns to Spock, who is busy at his station, coordinating the efforts. "We're getting reports of unrest on Romulus," Kirk says, his voice tight. "The Senate is divided on the issue of slavery." Spock looks up, his gaze unwavering. "The path to peace is never a straight line, Captain," he replies. "But with Tavel's influence and our support, we may yet see change." Kirk nods, his jaw set. "We've come too far to turn back now." The ship enters orbit, and the captain's voice booms over the intercom. "All hands, this is your captain speaking. Today, we stand on the precipice of history. We are not just building a colony; we are planting the seeds of a new alliance. Let us do so with honor and courage." The crew responds with a chorus of acknowledgments, their voices a testament to their shared commitment. And as the Enterprise descends into the planet's atmosphere, Kirk knows that the future of two great civilizations rests in their hands. The stakes have never been higher, but so too has their resolve. They are the architects of a new tomorrow, and together, they will forge a destiny of peace and freedom.

As the Enterprise and its Romulan counterpart, the Imperial Falcon, converge on the chosen colony planet, Kirk is struck by the Romulan officers' attentiveness to the Reman laborers. They speak to them with a respect that seems out of place in a society known for its rigid caste system and the cruel treatment of its underclass. The Remans, in turn, respond with a mix of surprise and tentative hope. Their eyes dart between the Romulan officers and the Starfleet crew, searching for signs of genuine care. Kirk watches from the bridge, his heart swelling with pride in his own people's willingness to extend a helping hand. The planet's surface is a flurry of activity as the two crews work side by side, the once-desolate landscape slowly transforming into a bustling hub of life. The Romulans, under Tavel's guidance, seem to have adopted a more empathetic approach, listening to the Remans' suggestions and addressing their concerns with surprising sensitivity. Kirk can't help but feel a sense of awe at the power of unity and compassion. This alliance, forged in the fires of adversity, is beginning to reshape the very fabric of their understanding of one another. And as the first structures rise from the ground, a beacon of hope in a galaxy too often ruled by fear, Kirk knows that they are witnessing the birth of something truly extraordinary. An image of the bustling colony forms in his mind, a tableau of diverse species working together, their hearts and minds entwined in a shared vision of a better tomorrow. He turns to Spock, who is observing the progress with his usual stoicism. "We're making history, Spock," Kirk says, a smile playing on his lips. "Let's make sure it's a history worth telling." Spock nods, his eyes reflecting the same hope. "Indeed, Captain," he replies. "The future is ours to shape."

Kirk and Tavel stand on the bridge of the Enterprise, their eyes locked in a gaze that speaks of friendship and shared determination. Tavel's voice is low and earnest as he suggests a friendly meeting between Kirk's officers and a group of Romulan officers who had assisted in preparing the planet. "To show that our relations are truly improving," he says, a hint of hope in his voice. Kirk nods, understanding the strategic value of such a gesture. "Your officers are welcome on the Enterprise," he says, extending an open hand. "A friendly chat, as you say, can go a long way in fostering trust and cooperation." The message is clear: they are willing to put aside their differences for the sake of a brighter future. The air in the room seems to crackle with anticipation as the details are finalized. The meeting is set for the evening, in the ship's lounge, a place where holographic fireplaces cast a warm glow and the scent of exotic spices fills the air. The chosen officers are those who have shown the most openness to the idea of peace and cooperation. Kirk knows that this is not just a social engagement; it is a delicate dance of diplomacy, where every word and gesture could mean the difference between war and peace. He straightens his uniform, steeling himself for the challenge ahead. As the Romulan shuttle approaches, Kirk can't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. This is uncharted territory, a chance to change the course of history. And as the doors to the lounge open and the Romulan officers file in, he is reminded of the weight of his responsibility. The evening stretches before them, filled with the potential for misunderstanding and mistrust. But as they sit down, their expressions open and curious, Kirk knows that they are all here for the same reason: to build a bridge between their worlds. The conversation flows, a tapestry of cultures and ideas woven together by the threads of mutual respect. They share stories, laugh, and even engage in a friendly game of three-dimensional chess. By the end of the night, the atmosphere has shifted from one of tentative curiosity to one of camaraderie. The officers, once divided by the vastness of space and the entrenched dogmas of their societies, now share a bond forged in the fires of shared experience. And as the Romulan shuttle departs, Kirk and Tavel exchange a knowing look. They have taken a significant step towards peace, one that could resonate through the annals of galactic history.

In Kirk's quarters, the captain and Tavel share a quiet moment, the weight of their recent achievements hanging heavily in the air. Kirk pours two glasses of Saurian brandy, handing one to the Romulan commander. "It's incredible," Kirk says, raising his glass. "The way your officers have embraced the Remans, it's unlike anything I've ever seen from the Romulan Empire." Tavel's eyes darken slightly, and he takes a sip before speaking. "There's something you need to know, Captain," he says, his tone measured. "Those officers you've come to know, the ones working alongside us so willingly... they're not actually Romulans." Kirk's eyebrows shoot up, and he sets his glass down with a thunk. "What do you mean?" Tavel pauses, choosing his words carefully.

"When my ship first arrived in Federation space, it was filled with escaping Reman slaves," Tavel reveals, his gaze unwavering. "They have permanently disguised themselves as Romulans to make this colony planet possible." Kirk's eyes widen in shock, and he leans forward, his hand tightening around his glass. "But why?" he asks, his voice hushed. "To escape the tyranny of the Empire," Tavel explains. "The Remans are a strong and resilient people, but we have been subjugated for too long. This alliance, this colony, it's our chance to start anew." Kirk nods slowly, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The Romulan officers he had come to respect were actually the very people they were trying to help. The complexity of their situation deepens, but Kirk's resolve remains steadfast. "We will honor our agreement," he says firmly. "And together, we'll ensure that this planet becomes a beacon of hope for all those who seek refuge from oppression." The two leaders clink their glasses together, the amber liquid a toast to the brave souls who have chosen to stand against the tide of history. They drink in silence, the warmth of the brandy mingling with the cold reality of their shared secret. The future is uncertain, but in this moment, they are united in their quest for freedom and a better tomorrow.

Kirk looks at Tavel with a mix of admiration and concern. "I can't even begin to imagine the sacrifices they've made, living among their oppressors, pretending to be one of them," he says, his voice tinged with emotion. "But isn't it going to be hard for them, pretending to be Romulans for the rest of their lives? They'll be surrounded by their own people, yet they'll have to remain apart, maintaining this deception." Tavel nods solemnly, his gaze reflecting the weight of the decision that was made. "It is a heavy burden they bear," he agrees. "But it is a burden they carry willingly for the sake of their people. They are the vanguard of a new era, Captain. They understand that their sacrifice now can mean the salvation of the Reman race." Kirk takes a deep breath, his hand resting on Tavel's shoulder. "We'll do everything in our power to support them," he promises. "They won't be alone in this." The room is silent for a long moment, the gravity of their conversation a stark contrast to the cheerful sounds of the celebration outside. They know that the path ahead is fraught with danger and deception, but in that quiet space, their friendship feels unshakeable. And as they sip their brandy, they share a silent vow to stand together, to fight for the rights of the oppressed, and to ensure that the light of freedom burns brightly for generations to come.

Captain, I feel compelled to share something deeply personal with you," Tavel says, his voice thick with emotion. "I, too, am Reman. Our telepathic abilities are a cornerstone of our culture, a way to connect and understand one another beyond words. The Remans on this colony will find solace in their shared experiences, their minds entwined in a tapestry of thoughts and feelings. But for me, it has been a long journey to find someone I can trust with such intimacy." Kirk's eyes widen in surprise, but his expression quickly softens into one of understanding. "You've found that trust in us," he says, his voice gentle. "In me, in Spock, in McCoy, and in the entire crew of the Enterprise." Tavel nods, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you," he whispers. "Your friendship means more to me than I can express." Kirk clinks his glass against Tavel's once more, the sound echoing through the quiet room. "To new beginnings," he says, his voice strong and sure. "And to the enduring bond between our peoples." They drink deeply, the warmth of the brandy a symbol of the friendship that has grown between them, a friendship that could redefine the very fabric of their existence. The stars outside their window seem to shine a little brighter, a testament to the hope that now burns in their hearts. They stand together, two leaders from worlds apart, bound by a shared vision of a universe where no one is left behind, and all are free to pursue their destinies.

As the night deepens, Kirk and Tavel find themselves drawn together, their shared experiences creating an unspoken bond that transcends the boundaries of duty and diplomacy. They take each other's hands, the warmth of their skin a stark contrast to the cold metal of the table between them. Their eyes lock, and in that moment, they realize that the spark of attraction they felt during their initial telepathic connection has not been extinguished. It has grown, fanned by the flames of their shared passion for justice and their yearning for companionship in a galaxy that often seems cold and unforgiving. They form a telepathic bond once more, this time not out of necessity but out of desire. Their thoughts intertwine, a dance of yearning and hope that leaves no room for doubt. They both long for each other romantically, a feeling that is both surprising and exhilarating. In the quiet of Kirk's quarters, with the ship's engines humming a steady bass line, they allow themselves to feel the full force of their emotions. It is a revelation, a moment of pure connection that fills them with a warmth that is as comforting as it is thrilling. They understand that their newfound love is fraught with complexity, with the potential to upend the delicate balance of their alliance. But as they stand there, hand in hand, they also know that it is a risk worth taking. For in the vastness of space, the most precious thing of all is the warmth of the heart that beats beside yours, the touch of the hand that understands your soul. And as they lean in, their foreheads touching, they share a silent promise: to navigate the treacherous waters of their interstellar romance with the same courage and conviction that guides their mission for peace.

Kirk leans back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. "Tavel," he says, his voice low and serious. "I have an idea. One that could take our alliance to new heights and truly cement our bond." Tavel looks at him, curiosity piqued. "What do you propose?" Kirk takes a deep breath, his eyes shining with determination. "I think you should formally request the Romulan Empire to assign you to the Enterprise, as an official liaison. This would show the Senate that our friendship is not just a fleeting moment, but a strategic partnership for the betterment of both our peoples." Tavel's eyes widen, the implications of Kirk's suggestion sinking in. It would mean living among the very beings he had once considered enemies, but the thought of working side by side with Kirk, of continuing their mission of peace and exploration, fills him with excitement. "It's a bold move," he says, his voice filled with admiration. "But one that could change everything." Kirk nods, his eyes never leaving Tavel's. "We've come this far," he says. "Let's not stop now." The air in the room seems to crackle with the electricity of their shared vision. They know that their relationship, both personal and professional, will face challenges. But as they stand together, their hands still clasped, they are ready to face whatever the universe throws at them. For they are no longer just captain and commander, but comrades in arms, fighting for a future where love and understanding conquer all. And with that, they set a course not just for the colony but for the stars themselves, ready to boldly go where no one has gone before, together.

Kirk and Tavel find themselves lost in each other's eyes, the gravity of their situation giving way to the intensity of their feelings. They lean closer, the warmth of their breath mingling as their lips meet in a tender kiss. It is a moment of pure connection, a silent declaration of love that transcends the barriers of language and species. Their hands roam, exploring the contours of each other's faces, tracing the lines of their jaws and the arches of their eyebrows. The kiss deepens, becoming a passionate exchange of emotions and desires. The stars outside the window of Kirk's quarters seem to hold their breath, as if watching the unfolding of a new chapter in the cosmic saga of love and friendship. The world around them fades away, leaving only the two of them, entwined in a dance as old as time itself. They make out, their bodies pressed together, hearts beating in sync. It is a moment of intimacy that feels both stolen and absolutely right, a promise of a future filled with shared adventures and quiet nights under alien skies. The kiss lingers, a beacon of hope in a universe that often seems cold and indifferent. But in that moment, Kirk and Tavel know that they have found something that not even the vastness of space can tear apart: a love that burns as bright as the stars they navigate, a bond that is as strong as the steel hull of the Enterprise itself.

Kirk and Tavel, their hearts racing with the excitement of their shared revelation, begin to remove their uniforms, each movement a silent testament to their trust and desire. The soft rustle of fabric and the gentle clank of metal as they discard their rank insignia echo through the dimly lit room. Their eyes never leave each other's, the connection between them growing stronger with every layer that falls away. Kirk's chest is bare, revealing the scars of battles past, a map of his life's journey. Tavel's skin is cool to the touch, a stark contrast to Kirk's warmth. They move towards the bed, a symbol of comfort and unity amidst the cold vastness of space. The mattress sighs as they lay down, their bodies fitting together as if they had been made for this very moment. The room is filled with the faint scent of their desire, a heady mix of sweat, cologne, and the faint metallic scent of their respective species. Their kisses become more urgent, their hands more exploratory, as they seek to know each other fully. The bedcovers are soon discarded, leaving them exposed under the soft glow of the room's ambient lighting. Their kisses become a symphony of passion, a silent language that needs no translation. They are not just captain and commander anymore, but lovers, bound by a love that is as vast and as uncharted as the cosmos itself. And as they move together, their bodies entwined, they know that they have found something that can survive the harshest of realities, a love that is as eternal as the stars they explore.

[theflowerofhumanity]

Castaways

Five years in space was a long time. It could, on occasion, feel like a lifetime even on a starship as big and bustling as the Enterprise. Between their often death-defying missions and encounters with new alien civilizations, daily routines sometimes began to feel tired, stale, even suffocating. Tempers flared and attention wandered. Even the most dedicated Starfleet personnel were, after all, only human—well, most of them. After a while, they all wanted to stretch their legs, enjoy some sunshine (or at least some shopping), and see some unfamiliar faces off-duty. The captain of the Enterprise, arguably the most dedicated of all the ship’s officers, had sometimes been reluctant to take shore leave in the past. But he felt sorely in need of it now. His brother and sister-in-law were dead, his first officer had nearly been permanently disabled, and the remaining years of their mission stretched out before his eyes like a deep well full of endless, invisible possibilities, not all of them good. He loved his ship and his crew and was still looking forward to the rest of their journey...after a brief holiday.

Starfleet Command approved four days of general shore leave for the entire Enterprise crew on Beta Regulus II. During that time, outside technicians and engineers would crawl all over the ship evaluating its condition and making potential repairs and updates, much to the chagrin of Chief Engineer Scott.  The planet was dominated by a pleasantly subtropical climate and warm seas as well as several large, bustling commercial centers in its chief cities. It was an ideal place to take shore leave by just about anyone’s standards and could comfortably accommodate all four hundred of them.

Kirk had instructed his officer corps carefully regarding his expectations: he wanted the entire crew on their best behavior. “This is a pretty cosmopolitan planet, and we might cross paths with some people we wouldn’t consider friends. If I hear about any of our people making trouble, I won’t hesitate to cancel general shore leave for everyone.” Then he dropped the stern commander facade and smiled at them. With only the best serving on the Enterprise, he wasn’t really concerned about having to make good on his threat. Besides, there were no signs of any Klingons or other similarly unsavory characters in the area as far as he was aware and therefore little cause for real concern.

After procuring some appropriate civilian clothes from the replicator—since he rarely had any reason to be out of uniform and also had the most varied regulation wardrobe of anyone else aboard the Enterprise, he kept almost none in his quarters—Kirk beamed down to the surface with Dr. McCoy and Spock. The former was already fully decked out for a vacation in an old-fashioned polo shirt, sandals, and sunglasses, while the latter, still in uniform, had his Vulcan harp tucked beneath one arm. The three friends materialized in a small, sunny plaza from which they could just catch the roar of the sea in the distance. Numerous other crew members were milling about nearby.

“Planning to serenade the doctor while he sunbathes, Spock?” Kirk asked with a chuckle

Spock raised a brow. “Since Beta Regulus is, as you say, cosmopolitan, I intend to see if any shops carry a set of strings for my lyre, captain,” he replied.

McCoy rolled his eyes as he slid his sunglasses down over them. “Just don’t forget to relax a little too, Spock. That is the general idea of shore leave! Well, Jim, you comin’?”

Kirk smiled. “I’ll catch up, Bones.”

He headed towards the dispersing crowd of crewmen to say hello to people with whom he usually didn’t mingle. A few of the women who rarely got to see their captain in person blushed and smiled like shy schoolgirls as he passed through, shaking a hand here and grasping a shoulder there in the warm, congenial way that inspired so much personal loyalty. His sleeveless royal blue v-neck certainly did nothing to discourage them from glancing over their shoulders to steal a second look or from smothering giggles with their palms. As usual, Kirk paid no mind to the attention.

@multirptrash

[hummingbird-of-light]

In Our Favor

Part 341

McCoy

“Where have all these people been hiding?”

Scotty was glancing around behind them as they walked up a street in the village. In front of them Eleanor walked with Francine, followed by David and Granddad.

McCoy gave a laugh. “That’s what that small wing off the chalet is; staff and security.”

Quite a number of security were following behind or walking in front of the group. Leah and Robbie were trailing off at the back and more security was behind them.

“Feels like a small army,” Scotty said quietly.

“It isn’t often the king and his heir go out walking on a public street,” McCoy shrugged.

“Suppose that’s fair,” Scotty agreed.

“Let’s pop in here,” McCoy suggested, nodding at a small shop next to them.

“Can we?” Scotty asked as he looked around.

“Of course.” McCoy glanced about. “Andre will probably keep an eye on us. See? Mother and Francine are going to that one up there.”

McCoy turned to get the door next to them for Scotty. A wonderful scent drifted out as he did.

“What?” the prince asked innocently as Scotty looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “We’re walking in the snow; of course hot chocolate and a treat is a good plan.”

“Of course,” Scotty chuckled and entered the small cafe.

A few eyes turned towards them as they entered, most with a look of recognition, then turned away again.

As McCoy and Scotty ordered the door opened again behind them and a hush went through the shop. McCoy looked back and saw Leah and Robbie had followed them.

“One moment,” he said to the person at the counter. He waved at his sister to hurry up. “Put your order with ours,” he told Leah.

“I’ll get some seats,” Scotty offered.

Soon the two couples were seated and steaming drinks sat in front of them.

“I nearly forgot about this place,” Leah said to McCoy. She looked around the cafe.

“Mother and Father would always stop here with us after we went skiing,” McCoy explained to the two Scott’s.

Leah huffed out a laugh. “We probably would have come in here last year, but for my ankle. I would have remembered then.”

McCoy saw Robbie lean towards Leah a slight bit. That broken ankle while snowboarding the previous winter had been the beginning of their relationship coming to light to the public. The picture of Robbie carrying Leah up the hill had spread quickly.

Perhaps it had been for the best; the pair no longer had to hide their love for each other.

McCoy smiled as he lifted his mug.

“We didn't really get to do much snowboarding,” he said. “We could try going again.” He looked at the other three to gauge their reactions.

Leah looked thoughtful, but Robbie had worry in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Scotty began slowly.

“Robbie can ride in the ambulance this time,” McCoy tried to keep back a grin. “No one’ll bat an eye about that anymore.”

“Hey!” Leah said indignantly. “That was a freak accident. Who could have known there was a rock? I can still fly down the slopes better than you!”

McCoy began to laugh. Leah reached over and slapped at his shoulder playfully.

“I suppose I’d like to give it another try,” Scotty finally said. “But not today.”

“I’m up for whenever,” McCoy said. He leaned over and kissed Scotty’s temple. “I thought maybe when we got home we could send a few messages; see how everyone’s doing. How Jim’s surviving, how Christine and Roger are enjoying their first holidays not hiding from her parents.”

“I’d like to hear how Aporal’s visit is going too,” Scotty agreed with McCoy.

“What about you guys?” McCoy looked back at Leah.

She shrugged and looked at Robbie. “Don’t think we’ve thought about it yet. Just enjoying town so far.”

Part 342

Scotty

The family spent a pleasant day in the village before returning to the chalet in the late afternoon. Scotty had really enjoyed just wandering around the little stores and really getting to know the place, despite the amount of security that accompanied them.

His eyes had often wandered to his little brother and Leah, who had been walking hand in hand through the streets. He really wondered when Robbie was planning to propose to the princess. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. If Scotty was honest, he had always kind of expected Leah to be the one to initiate the move. She was so much more eccentric than the youngest Scott and she seemed more like the person to propose to. But it also filled Scotty with pride that Robbie had made the decision to take matters into his own hands. He just hoped that his brother wouldn't be bitterly disappointed.

"So, who are we writing to?"

When they arrived back at the chalet, Scotty and Leonard had retired to their room and taken out their PADDs.

"Best all of them, right? Will ye do one half and I'll do the other?"

They agreed who would write to whom and then set to work.

Scotty was eager to hear all the answers, but he was particularly interested in the question of how Aporal was doing at home. The last trip to Andoria had ended relatively well and the Scotsman was very hopeful that the Tallister family would be able to build on this success.

Aporal's reply was not long in coming. He seemed to be sitting at his PADD.

"Who wants something from you?" Leonard asked curiously. He was still writing a message to Eugene, but looked up from his PADD when he heard the beeping of Scotty's device.

"Aporal has written."

"That fast?"

Scotty just shrugged his shoulders before opening the message to read it.

"He writes that everything is fine so far. His grandmother is visiting and that obviously makes things easier."

Scotty could well understand that. Of all the Andorians they had met, Aporal had had the best relationship with his grandmother.

"I hope she makes sure that Aporal and his parents continue to talk," Leonard said and Scotty nodded.

"Aye, I hope so too."

They finished writing the last messages and then thought about how they could spend the rest of the time.

Leonard said that he wanted to read an interesting medical text and Scotty thought it was a good idea.

"I'm off to the bathroom and then I'll read one of my books too."

Scotty was just washing his hands when he heard his husband's call.

"I can already pick out a book for you!"

Scotty smiled softly and gratefully for a moment before he remembered what he had hidden in the bag with the books.

He rushed out of the bathroom as quickly as he could.

"Nae, nae. I can do it–"

But it was already too late.

Leonard was already at the bag and pulled something out of it.

"What the–"

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

hi! I'm fairly new to you blog but it's become one of my favourite 😂 I adore your writing. I was wondering if I could request a headcanon of being married to Leonard Mccoy and your life on the Enterprise? Thanks!

oh my gosh thank you so much!

I love Leonard so so much so I am a bit biased, but this man, he was meant to be a Husband

Yes he is a grump all the god damn time, but this man melts when he is around his s/o

When he's had a stressful day, he knows that he can come to you and just the sight of you will make his stress melt away

Leonard is very good at compartmentalizing, it's part of what makes him such a good doctor, he knows what needs to come first, but there are times when he finds himself craving the sight of you, getting to hold you in his arms

So he'll make an excuse, even if it's just for a few minutes, to leave Med Bay and find you

He'll pull you into a quiet corner, just holding you in his arms, burying his face in your neck, and it's enough to keep the both of you going until the next moment you can steal

The crew quarters on the Enterprise aren't the greatest, but to Leonard, yours are the greatest sight in all the galaxies

Leonard has taken you on every single piece of furniture in your quarters (perhaps even in Med Bay) but that's not what makes your home his favorite place

You are in every part of the home - even if you're not there

Pictures of your wedding, trips together, are scattered on all the tables and a few on the walls

You brought your bedding from home, because Starfleet regulation just wasn't soft enough (and fuck if you aren't right about those damn expensive sheets)

And even when you're not there, he knows it won't be long before you are, and that thought alone can keep him going for hours

The two of you have become the unofficial go to for relationship advice

You represent the ideal couple, because you make all the craziness aboard the Enterprise work for your relationship

Countless times, Jim has shown up, either in Med Bay, dragging you along behind him, or at your quarters, so he can tell the two of you about his latest relationship and get your opinions

The two of you make it a priority to schedule date nights - it's the only way that your relationship can survive

These can be a romantic dinner back at your quarters where Leonard makes your favorite meal and the two of you end up in the bedroom for the rest of the night

Or they can be in his office in Med Bay, laughing and kissing over patient files he can't bring himself to look at, because he's got you in his arms, and last for only about an hour

The point is, the two of you make time for each other

And even when you can't, Leonard finds ways to show you he loves you

He'll make sure to leave little notes for you to stumble upon while you work, he'll send you flowers when he's on a planet because it made him smile, just like you do

Whenever the two of you have to work together, you try to keep it as professional as possible, but sometimes Leonard just can't

"As beautiful as she is, she's completely wrong," he'll say when you're in a discussion with the crew, and he won't even notice until he sees the smiles on their faces

My wife this, my wife that, my wife, my wife, my wife

You are his rock, but he is yours, too

Leonard can read your emotions with just a glance over at you (maybe it's because he's such a good doctor, but most likely it's just because he knows you that well)

He knows what to do to make you feel safe and comforted and listened to, when he knows that you need it

Leonard is also skilled at taking care of you in other aspects

The steady, steady hands of the good doctor have never once let you down

Leonard's voice gets a deeper twang when he's aroused (or when he's sleepy)

So when you're fucking, all his babys and darlings and honeys come out and that alone can finish you off

He is your best friend

You can tell him anything - bad day, fight you had with a friend, when you're sick - and he'll take it all in stride, knowing that letting you vent is usually most important

When you're done though he will take some action

For instance, you've got a headache? He'll prescribe you some medicine. Slept funny on your back? He knows just the perfect herbal remedy and a massage that will straighten you out

The two of you laugh more together than you do with anyone else

Jim swears he has never seen Leonard smile so much as when he does when he's with you

Some nights you'll stay up late, lying in each other's arms, just talking about what your future will look like, when you'll settle down, where, whether children are in your future

He is supportive of all your dreams and vows that whatever you want, he will get for you

Leonard says "i love you" like he breathes

First thing he does when he wakes up, last thing he says at night, when you pass down the walls of the Enterprise, when he's talking about you and you're not even there, it's just a reflex for him

Leonard is just the sturdiest man you could ever know - he's there to support you, there to take care of you, there to love you, there for anything you might need him for

He's such a good husband that it makes you want to be a better spouse, too

Of course you fight like all couples do, and they can get heated because Leonard is stubborn, but you always end up resolving things

Leonard knows he can be stubborn, so he usually comes to you after he's cooled down and apologizes for what he said

You tell him you don't care, it was a petty fight, and you love him

His favorite words in the world

The entire crew is sick of your PDA (there have been meetings) but Leonard doesn't care, he will kiss you whenever and wherever he wants

He'll pull you into a passionate kiss and not care that the crew all lets out a collective groan, because he is with you, and there is nothing else in the world that makes him happier

[tinycoded360]

JoJo's big adventure Chapter 8

 Kirk nodded at Sulu and Chekov, who took positions beside the door. With a united push, the hatch groaned open. Fortunately, they had found two more victims, giving them these leads to this location. And after Joanna had identified the perp in custody, all they needed was just a little more evidence and, hopefully, a clue on how to reverse the shrinking process. The culprit refused to talk, claiming he had nothing to do with it. Checkov had made sure Joanna had made it back to the enterprise and to the waiting hands of her father. She was most relieved to see the other kids her size. She was useful in calming them down and letting them know they were in good hands. Literally. 

"Phasers on stun," Kirk ordered, descending first into the inky abyss. "We may not be alone."

They crept forward, eyes flitting nervously over strange devices that hung from the ceiling or protruded from the walls. Each instrument was an enigma, its functions obscured by the alien technology and the kidnapper's malevolent intent. Kirk turned his head as Spock and Dr. Mccoy entered next. Mccoy finally had settled the tiny kids down, including his daughter. His medical staff was keeping an eye on them.

"Spock, any thoughts on what these devices could be used for?" Kirk asked, casting a sidelong glance at his first officer.

"Insufficient data, Captain," Spock replied, his voice betraying none of the apprehension that had settled in the guts of his human companions. "However, it would be logical to assume they relate to the criminal's methodology in shrinking his victims."

The narrow corridor opened into a room that struck them all with a chilling silence. Rows upon rows of shelves lined the walls, each home to a collection of still and lifelike figures. Perfect action figures. There were figures from all walks of life. From Vulcans to Klingons. They would say they were the most life-like dolls they’ve ever seen if they didn't know better. But they knew better.

"Jim," Mccoy choked out, his voice a roughened whisper, "look at this."

Kirk approached the nearest shelf, running a hand over the small figures. Their glassy eyes stared back, unseeing, frozen mid-motion as if caught in the act of living when the kidnapper snatched it away. It was preserved in some sort of resin. Kirk picked up one, an Andorian female. It was the strangest thing; it felt soft to the touch but without the warmth of life.  The limbs are easily manipulated. But they didn’t flop around like a dead body would. Making Kirk wonder if the kidnapper did some sort of modification to make them posable. Like added wire or some sort of taxidermy technique. Kirk gently set the figure down and left the small figure alone; he felt gross for messing with a corpse.

The most disturbing thing of all is that this kidnapper……no serial killer, had no set preference. There were figures of all ages, genders, and species. Kirk felt sick and angry as he spied a smaller figure than the rest. It was a human boy, from the size compared to the other figures, and the baby was fat still on his cheeks. Kick would guess the boy was no older than six. Kirk felt his anger boil; he wanted to punch the one responsible.

"Each one... a victim," Spock observed, his calm demeanor starkly contrasting to the horror that gripped McCoy's heart.

"Tiny people," McCoy said, his voice cracking. He reached out tentatively as if to touch one of the miniature figures before retracting his hand quickly. "He turned them into... into playthings." Mccoy felt like he could throw up, this would have been Joanna fate, if she hadn’t gotten away and found him.

"Jim," McCoy said, his voice thick with emotion, "we have to find and put this monster away for good. We can't let there be any more victims like these."

Kirk's jaw tightened, and he nodded sharply, the set of his shoulders broadcasting both his anger at the injustice and his resolve. "We will, Bones. I swear it."

Ever the pragmatist, Spock had already moved on to the task at hand, examining the devices scattered throughout the room. "Captain, Doctor, I believe these instruments are part of the process used to... shrink the individuals."

"Advanced knowledge used for barbaric purposes," Kirk muttered, moving to join Spock. He picked up a stack of papers, scanning their contents for anything that might lead them to the kidnapper.

"Anything?" McCoy asked, peering over Kirk's shoulder.

"Log entries," Kirk replied, flipping through the pages. "It's a record of abductions. Dates, species, locations..." His brow furrowed. "But no names, no motive."

"Purely functional," Spock observed, his eyes not leaving the device he was inspecting. "But this could be enough to tie him to the abductions and murders. This evidence will be enough."

“This is good! We have the evidence, and we can figure out how this technology works.” Kirk patted Mccoy on the back. “We’ll get Joanna back to normal in no time and will put this monster away for good.” 

[cannedinternets]

IT IS 3AM AND I CANNOT SLEEP. TIME TO TALK ABOUT STAR TREK.

Wait okay so. Bonds. Vulcan bonds. Vulcan telepathic mating bonds.

At some point Spock’s going to go through Pon Farr again. And if he’s is in a relationship with Kirk and Bones, he’d probably bond with both of them? (Arguably he’s already bonded to  Kirk at the end of Amok Time. And Bones did carry SPOCK’S FUCKING SOUL KATRA in his head so that’s gotta count for something, right??)

Now, to my knowledge, we don’t really ever get a good look at what the bond DOES, canonically. But I’d imagine it’s like...a low-level awareness of the other person/people in the bond unless someone is focusing or very emotional. We DO know that all Vulcans share low-level telepathic bonds with those close to then, like friends and family (and apparently ALL VULCANS are part of a telepathic collective? Like they’re an almost-hivemind? WILD.)

So...what does this look like, from an outside perspective? I don’t imagine anyone ANNOUNCED this to the crew, both b/c it’s really not kosher for the three highest-ranking crew members to be in a relationship, and b/c you just. Don’t tell people “hey my boyfriend is going into heat so me and our OTHER boyfriend are going to let him fuck us into the ground” like???? Not to mention that NO ONE KNEW WHAT PON FARR WAS THE FIRST TIME?? Not only is Spock a closed-mouth dumbass, APPARENTLY the entire Vulcan race would rather let some people possibly die in space than let anyone know anything about their medical needs? Anyway.

Commander Spock is sick.

At first, you thought it was merely that he was fighting with the Captain or the Doctor (or both). He’s been slightly ...off for a while, not making as many comments as usual and not arguing with the Doctor and, in general, not looking in the Captain’s direction if he can help it. He seems much more tightly controlled than he has been for a long time, which is never a good sign. The bridge crew has definitely noticed, though no-one has called attention to it.

“It’s like Mom and Dad are fighting,” Chekov jokes uneasily in the breakroom one day. But, from the glances the others share, you can tell it’s not a joke. Not really.

And now Commander Spock is gone, and so is the Doctor. Worried glances are exchanged, but nothing is said. The Captain is looking increasingly frazzled, though he still jokes and talks to the bridge crew, doing his best to lighten the mood. Eventually, someone tentatively asks what’s wrong.

“I don’t know,” is the terrifying answer, “but Bones is with Spock, so he’ll be fine.“ That is more reassuring than it should be - the Captain’s faith in the Doctor is legendary, and documentedly well-deserved. If there’s something wrong with Commander Spock that Doctor McCoy can’t fix, likely no-one would be able to fix it.

But still. Commander Spock was sick, and now he’s gone, and he and the Captain and the Doctor were fighting and- a call comes in.

“Medical to Bridge.”

Yeoman Rand has stopped with a cup of coffee halfway to her mouth.

Lieutenant Uhura was gesticulating, and her arm drops.

The science officer manning Commander Spock’s console is white-knuckling the back of his chair.

The bridge is dead silent.

“Medical, this is Captain Kirk. What’s-”

“Jim, get your ass down here right now.“

The comm cuts out. The Captain looks surprised, then grim.

“Sulu, you have the conn.”

“Aye, sir.”

The Captain vaults over the console and sprints to the lift, and then he is gone.

------------------

The rest of your shift passes, mostly in tense silence. There is no further communication from Medical. Acting Captain Sulu glances at the comm occasionally, but otherwise doesn’t show any sign of worrying. Others are not so composed, but no-one breaks or makes a scene. That’s about as good as you can expect, considering.

Next Alpha shift, it’s Doctor M’Benga that gives an update, not Doctor McCoy. That alone would be anxiety-inducing, but the update itself is worse, as is the fact that M’Benga looks supremely uncomfortable. Is he lying? Is it worse than he says?

“Commander Spock’s suffering from an affliction that caused his mental shielding to fail. He’s been isolated in his quarters, with Doctor McCoy monitoring and Captain Kirk standing by to help. Please try to avoid going to Deck 6 if you can; it will be harder for him to rebuild his shielding if there are mental presences nearby.“

Later, you will think about how clever that sequence of not-lies was. In the moment, you are worried for the safety of  the three highest-ranking crew members of the Enterprise.

------------------

Every shift starts with a reassurance that everyone is still alive, but no real information is present. You do your best to not think about it. Helmsman Sulu and Lieutenant Uhura trade off the Acting Captain position. Chief Engineer Scotty comes up from Engineering one day to be Acting Captain - under other circumstances, that would have been a fun day. He jokes as much as the Captain does, but he has a different sense of humor. And he invites the crew to go out drinking after shift. (You all politely ignore the fact that there isn’t supposed to be any alcohol on board - the Engine Still is an open secret at this point.)

------------------

[tigereyes45]

A Trektober piece I wrote for Day 12: Meet-cute. It's my first Spones centric fic.

Summary:

Doctor Leonard McCoy has just beamed aboard the Enterprise for the first time, as the new Chief Medical Officer. Of course introductions don't go as smoothly as he would have liked, though maybe this is better.

Preview of story:

”Well if it isn’t Jim Kirk.” McCoy moves to raise his hands, offering his oldest friend a hug.

He half expects Kirk to sidestep it. Especially when the captain looks back and forth between the vulcan to his right and the head engineer at the transporter’s control console. Instead, Jim steps closer and meets McCoy halfway. Well, there’s no escape for him now. Leonard wraps his arms around Kirk’s shoulders, giving him a strong squeeze. Jim’s arms loop under his own, and barely press into his back. It’s a polite hug if anything.

McCoy steps back, fixing a curious look on Jim. He’s seen the made if lower spirits, and never had one of his hugs felt so half-hearted.

Kirk steps back and quickly looks back at the vulcan. “Dr. McCoy this is my number one, and our head science officer, Mr. Spock.”

“Well,” McCoy pushes his worries to the back of his mind. Putting on his best grin, he offers out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Spock.”

With a completely impassive face, Mr. Spock glances down at Leonard’s hand. For a solid thirty seconds, his gaze remains transfixed on the outstretched palm. Then he slowly raises his head again. Cold, emotionless, dark brown eyes stare Leonard down. “It’s not diseased or anything if that’s what yer worried about.”

James lets out a chuckle. “Vulcans are apparently not prone to physical contact with others, doctor.” He clasps a hand around McCoy’s shoulder, guiding him towards the other gentlemen in the room. “And this is our head engineer, Mr. Scott.”

[darkness-and-books]

The Things We Do For The Fleet

Chapter 3: Appointments To Keep

💙eventual Leonard McCoy x fem!reader💙

⚠️: tiniest bit of language, drinking(Bones pours himself one drink)

word count: 842

<-Previous-Next->

Y/N and Uhura stuffed away their food as quickly as they could manage without choking on it, which Y/N did anyway, but was back in action after a few pats on the back from Uhura. They were practically buzzing with anticipation as they put their trays on the rack next to the replicators. “Come on!” Uhura urged, “I need to smell this cotton candy flower!” she shouted as they ran off the mess deck and down to the botanical labs. As they came up on the fluorescent lights of botanical lab 3, Y/N unlocked the door and ushered Uhura in. “Shh!” Y/N giggled, “We have to be quiet, you’re not meant to be here because I haven’t finished all my tests,” Y/N warned lightly through a slowly dying fit of giggles. “What’s it do so far?” Uhura asked in wonder as she reached out to touch it,

“I wouldn’t touch it unless you’re prepared to be really happy” Y/N said as she batted Uhura’s hand away. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Well so far it’s pretty harmless, aside from the fact that when you touch it, it opens up its blooms and spurts a puff of pollen. I don’t quite understand the chemical breakdown yet, but when you inhale the pollen you get a bit of a dopamine high” Y/N said as she turned a bright shade of pink. “How’d you figure that out?” Uhura asked with a raised brow and a smirk. “I touched when I was studying its petals, I spent the rest of my shift giggling to myself with the lights set on blue” Y/N admitted. A knock came at the door, Y/N jumped at the noise, “Quick, hide behind the aquaponics shelves” Y/N pointed at the shelves and pushed Uhura that way. Y/N opened the door, “Oh, hello mister Spock” she greeted quietly, “I wasn’t expecting you, what brings you around?” Y/N wondered to him. “I’m here to inform you of the new rooming arrangements,” Spock stated, “Uhm, new rooming?” Y/N asked nervously as she twisted the cuff of her uniform shirt. “Yes,” he started as he flipped through his padd briefly, “You will be roomed with Dr. McCoy. I understand that it is not customary to room a male and female, but unfortunately Dr. McCoy and yourself were the last two picked, so there really isn’t the room to switch your roomings,” Spock informed, paused for a short while to look down at Y/N. “Okay,” Y/N accepted meekly, “You have until the end of the week to notify myself or Captain Kirk, of who’s room you’ll be consolidating into,” Spock nodded curtly before turning on his heel. “Also, Ms. Y/L/N, please send lieutenant Uhura up to the bridge,” Spock noted as he turned back momentarily to glance at the aquaponics shelves. “Uhura, I think you’ve been caught,” Y/N giggled softly as Spock opened the door again and walked away. “Well it was nice to see this thing anyway,” Uhura said sadly as she followed Spock out the door. I don’t think I’ve met Dr. McCoy, Y/N thought as she went to mist the new flower.

Where the hell is that green blooded pocket calculator?!? He’s late, what happened to all that punctuality nonsense from the other day!?, Leonard was waiting, rather impatiently, at his desk for the aforementioned Vulcan to show up for his physical. “About time!” He hollered as Spock finally walked into the medbay. “I apologise for being late, I had one more errand to attend to, there was just one more person who needed to be informed of the new rooming arrangements,” Spock explained himself. These words were to Leonard’s utter horror, as he realised this meant Y/N had been told before he could get to her. Not that Jim’s gotten back to me on where to find her, he began leading Spock into an exam room. “Where are Y/N’s quarters right now?” Leonard asked as he finished Spock’s exam. “I believe that at the moment her quarters are only three doors to the left of your own,” Spock informed with a raised eyebrow. “What?” Leonard asked, “We’re about to live in the same quarters, this is the least personal thing I’ll learn about her,” Leonard defended. “I’m sure that’s true,” Spock agreed as he left the medbay. This is gonna be awkward, he entered his office and slid into his chair before pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He downed his glass and headed back to his quarters. He began to put his things neatly into boxes, he already knew that anyone on board had to have more things than he did, so it just made sense that if all he had was paperwork and clothes, he should bring his things to Y/N’s quarters and not the other way around. Leonard looked around his quarters to see it tidier than it had probably been since he first moved in. Wow, it doesn’t even look that different, he looked around seeing for the first time that it had always been fairly empty.

I feel like I’m on a roll here. I didn’t even think I had it in me to write a multi part fic. Anyway, hope you like ❤️

~I used Pixlr to generate an image of what the cotton candy flower might look like~

[diplonimbodocus]

lee spock and ler kirk content pretty please with cherry on top? <3

Comin' right up!

Thank you so much for your ask, I was so excited to get it! Plus lee!Spock is simply *chef's kiss*, I do approve of your taste.

I'm not sure if your preference would be TOS or AOS, but I think on this occassion we'll go... AOS, simply because I do think a lee!Spock is brilliant in the Kelvin timeline. Although everyone is free to imagine things as they wish!

This was just a quick little thing, I hope it's ok! Please enjoy! Without further ado -

"Doctor, I request that you do not question why I am here and you do not disclose to the captain my whereabouts." Spock said as he had suddenly marched through the medbay doors at pace, sparing not a glance at the doctor. Though tidy and matter-of-fact as ever, he held a manner of urgency about him.

"What in the - Spock! What are you talking about?! I've a routine examination in 20 minutes and I don't have time to waste on-"

"Doctor." Spock fixed Bones with a look which stayed his verbal assault. He then tucked himself quite flatly behind a cupboard which protruded from the internal bulkhead.

Bones threw his hands up in the air and grumbled, "Not even an explanation, fine then!"

Not a moment later, the sliding doors opened once again to reveal an agitated James Kirk, a little out of breath but Bones thought he detected a sparkle in his eye, the kind he had when there was an idea in his head.

"Did Spock come in here?"

"In the corner." Bones pointed over his shoulder with the stylus, going back to his datapad.

Spock quickly stepped out from his hiding place and froze facing Kirk, the two stopped at a distance. Keeping his eyes on Kirk, he spoke. "Doctor McCoy, I fail to see how you could misunderstand my clear instruction not to-"

"What did you really think I was gonna do? Use your logic, Spock."

The captain remained where he was, eyeing his first officer with that glint in his eye.

"So, Spock. Thought you could rely on old Bones to get you out of this did you?"

"Old?" Bones chimed in from the other side of the room.

"I did surmise he might be of some help." Spock said, body poised and sounding unsure of his words.

"Not your best idea, huh?"

"Evidently not." Spock said with a hint of facetiousness.

"Bones, lock the door."

Bones looked up in shock, before rolling his eyes and puffing his cheeks, moving to the door and exclaiming, "Fine! Whatever you two are doing, it better be done in 10 minutes. Some of us have a job to do!"

All the while, Spock had been watching intently for any sign of movement from the captain, and Kirk's eyes were trained on him. The two stood there, like a standoff. Bones watched, curiosity piqued. Everything was still, that is until Kirk moved his foot to step.

All in a moment, the room was suddenly a bustle. Spock leaped over a bed, Jim followed round it, Spock reached the other bulkead, past Bones, skirting the outside towards the door, doubling back when Kirk crossed the room to get there first.

Bones, in the middle of it all, shouted, "What the hell are you two doing?! This isn't a damn playground, it's a hospital!"

Jim was now advancing on a more and more cornered Spock, who had succeeded only in finding himself a small space at the back of the room to retreat to.

"Captain, I would request that you cease this endeavor and that we both return to normal activities immediately."

"Why Spock? You scared you'll let a little of that human emotion slip?" Jim grinned, though it was a clear taunt to draw Spock in.

"Jim. You know there is human in me. Why do you persist to attempt at forcing me to display it?" Spock replied in a more intimate tone.

"Because it's fun." Jim lunged forward, however just as he attempted to grab the vulcan, Spock crouched and slipped underneath his outstretched arms.

Always ready, Jim spun around on the ball of his foot and threw himself after the first officer.

"Gotcha!" He cried as he landed on top of Spock, his weight pushing him prone and keeping him there, on his face.

Spock fought against the heaviness holding him down, and given vulcans' strength, Jim was well near thrown off, but held on, grasping the other's collar as you would a rodeo. Spock said nothing save for the sounds of his struggles.

"So Bones... I've got a little question for you. Have you ever seen a vulcan laugh?" Jim practically grinned in his tone alone, and was met with renewed energy from the vulcan in question.

"Once, actually."

Jim threw a look of alarming question back at Bones.

"It's a long story." Bones replied.

Jim hesitated and then continued, still riding the bull.

"Well, you're about to see it again! Can you guess which vulcan on board this vessel can laugh, and has laughed today, and has been a pain in my ass for days, and incidentally, is insanely tickl-"

"CAPTAIN!" Spock suddenly shouted.

"-ish."

"You're not honestly telling me-"

"Isn't that right, Spock?" Jim put his hands onto Spock's sides below the ribs, and started squeezing up and down his flanks.

Spock shivered, and then went stiff as a board. Mysteriously not a sound had emerged, but the change was definite.

"Uh, Jim? Is he ok?"

"Don't worry, he'll come out of it in a minute." Jim said with certainty and continued pressing all along the vulcan's sides.

Rightly enough, a few second later Spock was shivering again, yet constantly, and a strange humming noise was coming from the floor beneath his head. Jim kept squeezing and the humming came in more sporadic bursts. Bones could see round the side of his head, and from that small view, he saw the corners of the vulcan's mouth were turned up.

"Holy..."

"Wait for it, Bones..." Jim squeezed up and down another time, before suddenly clutching on tightly around Spock's midriff, right over his ribs with both hands and vibrating his fingers firmly over those delicate bones.

"Hah!" Spock squeaked out before burying his face into the floor.

"C'mon Spock... Don't hold out on me!" Jim teased, smiling big as he continued to torture Spock's ribs. Spock was now starting to jitter over the hard floor as if electrocuted, hopping this way and that as the captain's fingers followed his every movement.

"CaHAHptain! DeHEsist immediHAHtely!"

Though the effects of Jim's ministrations were obvious, Spock had thus far managed to contain his reactions to short bursts of movement and sound.

Jim spidered his fingers further down towards Spock's waist and hips. Spock began to wriggle more noticably as the fingers descended. As they landed in the dips of his hips he suddenly and violently curled inwards and finally, broke.

"NOHOhohoho!! Cahahaptaihahain nohohohooo!!"

"Bones - vióla".

The doctor simply looked on with his mouth hanging open.

"E-E-ENOUHOUHOUHOUGH!" Spock appeared unable to fight back, as his body responded in a solely reactive way.

"But Spock, buddy! You love this so much!"

"CAAHAHAHAPTAIHAIHAIN!!!"

"Call me Jim."

"J-JIHIHIHIIIM!!"

"Little louder..."

"JIM!!!"

"Now a little quieter."

"JI- JihihiHIM!"

"Now, touch your toes!"

Spock shook his head hopelessly and melted into laughter as Jim lead a merciless assault all over him.

"Hey Bones, check this."

Jim scratched from top to bottom along the writhing Vulcan's spine, teasing along and to either side, only for his first officer to curl upwards, laughter turning to high giggles.

"Well wouldya look at that." The doctor said, crossing his arms over his chest. "A giggling vulcan. Cute."

"Yeah well if you think that then get over here and help me, he's gonna throw me off!" Jim now battled to stay on as he attempted to squeeze the backs of Spock's thighs.

"Actually, much as I would love to wipe the smile off - or on - that guy's face, I'm going to have to break it up. Before my patient arrives."

Spock nodded his head frantically, unable to hide his smile, a greenish-yellow undeniably coving his cheeks.

"Aw." Jim whined.

His hands came to a gentle stop and over the next 30 seconds Spock's breathing slowed to a much more normal rate. He said nothing, remaining lying down with his eyes closed as if he had perhaps fallen asleep.

There was a moment of hung silence before suddenly -

Spock's hands were on the ground beneath him, pushing up, slowly yet in a way which seemed unstoppable, like a glacier following its course down a valley, and Jim, still perched on his back was brought along with it.

Jim wobbled and tried to find balance, surprise on his face, before a look of realisation hit him and he scrabbled up to his feet and back.

Spock rose, picking himself up to his feet. He stood, dusted himself off and released a controlled exhale. Jim stood wide-eyed until the vulcan turned to face him.

Though his face had been trained back to a more characteristic stoicism, there was no doubt about the cock to his eyebrow, the tightness of his lips, the set of his teeth which gave away his true feeling.

"Captain. You have exactly until I have finished speaking to make your exit- "

Jim did not wait around to hear the rest.