Chapter Text
The damn door is shut tight.
Smoke curls around them, the acrid scent almost choking him every-time he tries to take a deep breath. His lungs feel as if they’re on fire, almost as if he can feel traces of the fire itself. He’s grateful towards Darlene. A recent addition to his crew with a sharp tongue and a knack for uncanny solutions. It’s due to her quick thinking that the fire is put out. Now all that’s left it the smoke that’s slowly being sucked out to purify the air, and the rest of Scotty’s late night crew.
But that still doesn’t account for the injuries. Two, no thee. Hell, four if you count me. He thinks to himself. The blast (a stupid, stupid mimstake on his part) knocked them all back. A moment of calm before Scotty could feel the tall tale hiss before he pushed whoever was closest to him out of the way.
A late night in the engine room. Nothing too out of the ordinary for him or really any of his staff. The sound of the pulsating warp core is as similar to him as the sound of his ma’s voice. A soft, never ending rumble that settles into his skin and on his bones. A sound that follows Scotty even in his dreams. The Enterprise is his home, but the engine room is where he truly thrives.
And now it’s in shambles. Well, not shambles, but it’s as close to it as Scotty has ever seen it.
The upper levels have been all, but destroyed, but it’s nothing Scotty hasn’t seen before. And mentally, he can calculate that it'll take him less than a day to fix them. A fitting punishment for his rare carelessness. He’s just thankful that the damage isn’t as bad as he originally thought, and that most of his crewmates weren’t caught up in the blast itself. He counts the number of injured crew members in his head and takes a note of who’s hurt the most.
Ensign Darlene is relatively safe. A bit shaken up, but Scotty can see the excitement in her eyes. He’ll remember to keep an eye on that one.
Ensign Charles. Broken rib by the looks of it, but nonetheless okay considering his (awful, absolutely awful) jokes.
Lieutenant Richards. A deep cut across his arm. But lucid, aware, and grumpy as ever.
Lieutenant M’barr. Tabby fur ruffled beyond belief, but as relaxed as Scotty’s ever seen her. She’s been with him the longest, and the shock and awe of being part of the Engineering crew has worn off by now.
And Spock. Spock who isn’t part of his team, but is still there nonetheless. Spock whose wounds Scotty is most worried for. Spock whose head is bleeding at a rather alarming rate, and where he can see a sizable gash on his left flank. Green blood steadily staining his blue shirt and growing.
Darlene has moved away from the commander. Her expression somewhat panicked, and growing by the minute. He can hear the late night med team on the other side of the door. Voices are somewhat muffled, but he can hear the anxiety in their voices.
Scotty’s a bit dazed himself, but he can manage to work open a jammed door even during a hangover. It’ll only take him a few minutes, but sometimes even a few minutes is a few minutes too late. And by the slowly panicked looked at Darlene’s face as she looks at Spock, he knows that he doesn’t have a few minutes.
But this one. This one is a doozy, and Scotty can’t help, but feel the inklings of frustration within himself. His head is throbbing, and his mind feels more and more cloudy as the minutes tick by. Minutes he doesn’t have. The colors of the door seem to swim before him for a moment before he manages to catch himself. Hand slamming at the side of the door to steady himself.
He just needs to focus. And he can’t focus if all the damn colors on the door can’t seem to stay still for one goddamn minute.
He jumps back at the soft touch of a small hand. Darlene stares at him in concern. She’s a wee thing, barely reaching his shoulder. but she holds his gaze nonetheless. Dark brown eyes staring at him with hesitant reassurance.
“Allow me.” her voice is quiet.. Scotty looks back at the door and back at her. His head feels too fuzzy and she seems to swim in and out of focus, before he blinks once. Twice. And nods his head, allowing her to take over.
She’s a smart thing, he knows. And it shouldn’t take her long to open the door open. He plops his sorry self right down next to Spock. Nodding towards the other ensigns, and giving them a brief smile. He’s sure Starfleet didn’t prepare them for this.
He turns to look at Spock.
Spock’s eyes are closed, but Scotty knows enough about Vulcans to assume that he’ gone into one of those trances. Or comas. Or whatever Doctor McCoy had told him over their third round of drinks. At least that’s what he thinks they are considering it’s not the first time Mr. Spock has scared the hell out of Scotty.
Even if it is hard to tell, Scotty can tell that there’s a part of Spock that’s still awake. And aware of the situation around them. Scotty’s an engineer at heart. And he’s used to nothing the small details. He’d have too or else he’d be hard pressed to figure out the solution if all the parts aren’t even working to begin with. There’s a small flutter in Spock;s eyelids. And the corner of his mouth is downturned and faintly twitching. Still, his long body is leaning back against the wall. Emerald blood still seeping out of his wound and dripping down his cheek. The stain on his shirt growing larger and larger.
Darlene has done her best to fix him up as best as she can, but she’s not a nurse and the dusty first aid can only go so far. He hopes that she’s almost done.
It’s not the first time Spock’s been down here. Scotty’s not sure if it’s due to Spock not needing to sleep or Spock not wanting to sleep. But it’s none of Scotty’s business, but he does try to let Doctor McCoy know if Spock’s been down there a few too many times throughout a given week.
He’s intelligent, capable, and most of all he’s quiet. Neither Scotty or Spock are talkers, and that suits them just fine. They work seamlessly together and Spock’s one of the very few people on the ship whose work that Scotty doesn’t feel the need to check over.
They’re friends. Not as close as Jim and Spock or Scotty and Leonard, but they’re friend either way. And he cherishes their silent work together just as much as his late night drinks with Leonard.
And it doesn’t hurt that Spock’s got one hell of a sense of humor. Sarcastic, dry, and a little saucy if you ask Scotty. In a way he reminds Scotty of his niece. A wee shy thing, still trying to come out of her shell. But like Scotty’s favorite (I’m your only sister Monty.) sister, she’s got a tongue on her.
He leans back and tries to focus on the vibration of the ship. A constant, never ending hum that you can hear even in the deepest crevices of the ship. His mind still feels as if it’s full of cotton balls, but at least he isn’t seeing two Darlene’s and three Mr. Spocks.
Underneath, the constant pulsating of the warp core, he can hear a faint rumbling. Low enough for anybody to miss it, but not Scotty. Not Scotty who can identify each and every sound no matter how small in the engine room. It’s an odd noise, but nothing threatening.
He picks up on it even if he still feels like he’s coming out of a hangover. And then it stops. Just for a moment before it picks up again. Similar to an inhale and exhale, it fades in and out. But it’s there. Almost as constant as the warp core’s gentle purr.
He glances at Spock. And through his haze, he watches as Spock’s chest goes up and down. And Scotty’s not too far removed from reality until he realizes that the sound is coming from Spock.
And that the bastard is purring.
Scotty barks a short laugh.
For all the gossip on Earth that Vulcans were just cats in disguise, he’d never figured that some of it were true. He feels like he should be surprised. And maybe it’s due to the concussion that he may have, but he isn’t shocked. More amused than anything else, but it's nothing new to Scotty.
The engineering division is one of the most diverse amongst Starfleet officials. In Scotty’s honest opinion, science and math is one of the most universal languages out there. Put a Vulcan and an Andorian together and they’ll figure out a way to make something work, species be damned.
He watches for a moment. Focusing more on Spock’s purr than on anything else at the moment. Amongst his overall worry over Spock, he figures that Spock’s purring is a little different from what Terran Cats purr for. Scotty’s not too entirely sure about that, but he finds that he doesn’t mind the small sound of Spock’s purr. And that it almost reminds him of his ma’s old cat. A prissy little bastard who didn’t like anyone, but his ma.
And suddenly he's reminded of the time when his ma's cat was hurt. A accidental tumblr down the stairs which resulted in a broken paw, and a five second long ear splitting yowl that woke up half the house. A remembers his ma's frantic voice, and her weight of her cat in his lap as she drove them to the nearest veterinary 24hour clinic. If he focuses he can still hear the small whimpers in between the low purring that seemed to loud he could still feel it afterwards even after the vet took him away from them.
It fits really.
Suddenly there’s an explosion of voices, and the sound of metal being forced open.
“‘Bout time.” he mumbles to himself before he slips under.
He only hopes that Nyota isn’t too angry at him this time.