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Spock joined Leonard for morning coffee and tea for two weeks when it started to evolve into sharing meals. They’d always had the occasional breakfast or lunch together, but they were almost always dragged there by Jim, who did most of the talking. All of the meals still mostly included Jim, but he wasn’t the only one instigating it. Sometimes Jim was even purposefully excluded, mostly playfully, and Spock gave as much as Leonard did to make sure Jim felt thoroughly teased yet still loved. Jim, for his part, told Leonard that he was happy to see his two best friends getting along better.
Spock started wading into Jim-less meal sharing by coming down mid-shift on a hectic day in sickbay—damn ensigns needed to stop sharing their germs with each other and start isolating when they feel under the weather. Spock had marched into Leonard’s office with two trays of food and set them on the nearest clear surface before leaning over Leonard's desk to tap on his PADD. “Must whatever you are working on be completed at this exact time?” When Leonard shook his head, the PADD was plucked from his fingers and set aside. “That is fortunate, as you skipped breakfast again and were on the way to—”
Leonard tried to inconspicuously remove all the nutrition bar wrappers scattered on his desk among the PADDs, but Spock just lifted an eyebrow at it. “Yeah, yeah, I get the point, pointy. Pull up a chair, an’ I’ll clean us a spot to eat.”
They did their respective tasks, and then Spock brought over the trays for them to enjoy. Spock, who was way more thoughtful than Leonard gave him credit for, brought one of Leonard's healthier favorites that was packed full of the nutrients he needed to get through the rest of the day. Especially since the rest of the day would be dealing with the aches, pains, and snot of the rest of the crew that would inevitably trickle in.
After taking a few bites to fill the gaping hole in his stomach, Leonard nudged Spock’s foot with his own. “Thanks for doin’ this, Spock. I appreciate it.” Knowing this wasn’t enough, Leonard ran his hand through the hair on the back of his head and ruffled it before continuing. “I know I harp on Jim an’ all the others about maintaining a healthy diet, but sometimes when I get busy, food is the last thing on my mind.” He lowered his hand back down to his lap and took a few more bites. “So thank you for noticing that the doc needs doctorin’ sometimes, too.”
From there, it shifted to Leonard introducing Spock to (modified) southern cuisine. Then Spock convinced Leonard that Vulcan foods were far more flavorful and appetizing than their plain appearance would suggest. They’d even manage to blend a few of their favorites together, which was a fun experiment. (One of them, however, ended up being disgusting, and a bit of bile rose every time Leonard thought of it.) Although currently limited to food, their blending of cultures also led to increased efficiency on missions where they had to work together. Jim sent them down together more often because of it, much to Leonard's chagrin.
One day, however, about two months after their first lunch together, Leonard said no. And the next day, and the next day, until a week had passed without so much as a quick snack or a ‘how’s the weather?’ conversation. It was certainly not what Leonard wanted, but the medical brass had been on his ass during their visit and kept trying to make unreasonable changes. While most of them had served in the black, only one of them had recently served, and none of them had faced as many emergencies as the Enterprise crew in seven years.
When the assholes finally left, Leonard dropped everything and went on the hunt for his Vulcan friend. It took him a while, but he eventually found him with Jim’s help, tucked away in the corner of one of the biology labs. He cleared his throat to announce his presence, and once Spock’s body was turned fully toward him, Leonard clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Damn, Spock, that week was hell. Are you hungry? Can I fix you dinner while angrily yelling about all the bullshit I had to deal with this week? I don’t need you to respond or fix things. Just let me yell and make food that’ll knock your socks off.”
“I have to finish this experiment, but I will be amenable to dinner in the next one point five hours. Is that sufficient?” Spock actually looked a bit concerned that he couldn’t go right now, based on his left foot hovering between the stool’s rung and the floor.
Leonard smiled. “That’s perfect, Spock. Gives me a chance to shower and get somewhat decent after all that running around and bending over backward to try and satisfy those bastards.” His jaw tightened as he thought about the hell that week had been. “Feel free to nerve pinch Jim if he’s ever about to invite medical brass to my sickbay. You know. For health reasons. ‘Cause I might kill Jim if he ever does that again.”
Spock nodded, and his lips quirked, “Ah, yes, the death of the captain by the hands of his CMO would not be ideal. I will therefore keep your suggestion in mind if such an occasion should ever occur again.”
“Thanks, Spock, you’re the best!” Leonard gave him a quick tap on the bicep before leaving the labs and returning to his quarters to get refreshed. The hour and a half allowed him to clean up his neglected quarters—which he did nude because damn that uniform to hell and also to hell with pants—and his body, and prep all the ingredients. By the time the door chimed, Leonard felt like a brand new man in his well-worn jeans and button-down shirt, untucked, of course. And Spock was looking dapper in one of the intricately designed sweaters his mother knitted for him. Leonard was still going to make a bitch fest out of dinner, but he’d at least be smiling more.
Spock came in with dessert—a custom of Leonard’s family they’d discussed previously—and once the Vulcan was situated at the table near the small kitchenette, Leonard got to work. “I know you don’t express your feelings outwardly, but have you ever cooked angry, Spock?”
“No, I meditate when I feel anger.” Spock rested his hands politely in his lap as he observed Leonard busy himself around the kitchen.
“Well, for me, cooking is my meditation. It’s a bunch of loose rules you can play hard and fast with, and pots an’ pans don’t yell at you or tell you you’re irrational when you yell at it.” Leonard pulled out a small pot and set it on the stove. Shortly after, it was filled with a Vulcan broth that he’d found to have a great mix of savory and salty flavors, and turned the burner on. He’d already synthesized all the ingredients—a pity that he didn’t have fresh options—and he spread out the celery, onions, and carrots and started chopping. “And lord knows I need some meditation right now ‘cause those bastards nit picked damn near everything.”
“Your record speaks for itself, Leonard. Jim and I have compared reports from other ships, and your handling of sickbay has far exceeded the performance of all the others in the fleet. It is even better managed than smaller vessels that see fewer incidents.” Spock still sat up straight, but his posture had eased, something he’d gotten better at over the weeks. It was still annoyingly perfect, but it was slightly less perfect, and that made Leonard happy.
“Thanks, Spock, and not to toot my own horn, but I agree.” Leonard’s chopping became more aggressive, and his accent became thicker. “But no, they didn’t like that I’d made changes that violated regs—regs that are old as dirt and don’t need to still be hangin’ around. I’d already submitted my suggestions—researched an’ everything—that their rules needed changing! Hell, that might be why the bastards came an’ harassed me in the first place.”
Leonard chopped the vegetables with a surgeon’s precision and a bucking bull’s wrath. “I documented all of my changes in the reports and reasons why, you an’ Jim approved them, but that wasn’t goddamn good enough for those asses.” He pulled out an awkwardly shaped Vulcan fruit and cut it into strips, similar to how he would cut a chicken breast. Through experimentation, he’d found that this fruit, when combined with the right broth, had a similar texture to meat when cooked, with all the savory flavors that meat was used for. Once he was finished cutting it up, he put all of the ingredients in the now-boiling pot along with some spices he’d sectioned out into little bowls before Spock arrived.
“Their authority does not supersede Jim’s while we are on our missions,” Spock said with furrowed brows. He didn’t even attempt to suppress his confusion, which made Leonard nearly drop one of the dry ingredients for the dumplings. “I do not understand why they would attempt to lean into yours and Jim’s authority in this manner. There is no logical reason, nor authority, to do so.”
“Yeah, well, that’s admiralty for ya. Promise me you won’t become one of those uptight jackasses when you get up into those ranks.” Leonard mixed the dry ingredients and slowly started adding the wet ones, mixing just enough to get the right texture. “I’ll give you an’ Jim hell if you do, so don’t. In honor of our friendship.” Leonard turned around to stir the pot and taste the broth to make sure everything was on track. It was, and he hummed happily before looking back over his shoulder, “Wanna give it a try?”
Spock got up and joined Leonard at the stove. Leonard stirred the broth and Vulcan chicken fruit again and scooped up a bit of broth, holding it out for Spock with his hand underneath to catch drips. Spock leaned forward toward the spoon and sipped up the liquid, both eyebrows quirking upward. “It is Vulcan, yet not.”
“Yeah, it’s southern, yet not, too,” Leonard said with a grin. “Does that mean you like it?”
“I am intrigued. My mother would have appreciated this type of dish, although her cultural cuisine was from the midwest. She often blended the two cuisines for my father and me.” Spock had a faraway look on his face and didn’t step away from Leonard when he moved to stand back in front of the pot. They were close enough that if Spock took a deep enough breath, they’d touch. It was comforting, actually. Something Leonard didn’t know he’d missed: cooking with someone and having someone to enjoy that cooking with. He couldn’t help the small smile as he fished out all the veggies and set them aside.
“Did she ever make it with you?” When Spock nodded, Leonard bumped him with his shoulder and turned back to the dumplings. He cut them into strips and carried a chunk of them back to the pot, dumping them in. “Can you show me some of her recipes sometime? I, uh, doubt this’ll be the last time I need a meditation session an’ if you’re willing to indulge me again, having you here made it pretty cathartic.” He waved Spock over to the table and sat down in the other chair. “Thank you, by the way.”
“No thanks are necessary, Leonard. You are my friend, and as a friend, it is my duty and privilege to see to it that you maintain a healthy mind and body.” Spock returned to his chair and placed a hand on Leonard's forearm, just above the cuff of his rolled-up sleeve. “Your method of meditation, while unorthodox, has noticeably aided your mood.” Leonard leaned back in his chair and waved his free hand nonchalantly. “You are also rewarding me with a home-cooked meal,” Spock added while conveniently leaving off the whole ‘I'm indebted to you for life because of the tea plant’ thing.
They shot the shit for about twenty minutes before Leonard got up and put all the ingredients back in the pot to let it finish simmering for another twenty more. He snagged two small pieces of the Vulcan chicken out and brought them back to the table. He stuck it right in Spock’s face, fully expecting him to eat it right from his hand...which was stupid. Leonard immediately realized his mistake and blushed tomato red. “Ah, sorry, habit… You should try it, though. I’m wondering if you’ve had it cooked like this before.”
Spock took the piece of fruit between his own fingers and nibbled on it thoughtfully. His eyebrows shot up again, and he looked genuinely surprised. It gave Leonard a few butterflies to see, and he was proud of himself. Spock even licked the broth from his fingers, which was probably not something he’d ever do in front of another Vulcan, and that also made Leonard happy. Leonard sat down and scarfed his own piece and hummed in contentment. “It’s definitely not chicken, but it’s the right texture and is just as savory. What’d you think?”
“It is delicious, Leonard. I am impressed. I have not had this particular fruit prepared in such a way, as it is traditionally served in cold dishes. What is the dish that you are making?”
“Old fashioned southern chicken ‘n’ dumplings, minus the chicken.” Leonard leaned back in his chair and brought his left ankle to the top of his right knee. He folded his hands over his stomach and rested his head on the back of the chair. “I did some experimentin’ with a couple different Vulcan fruits and veggies and managed to get a similar texture outta this one. The flavor’s pretty damn good, too. Probably healthier, but I haven’t run the nutritional analysis.”
The timer went off, and Leonard hopped up. “Finally! That smell’s been gnawing a hole in my stomach ever since I started prepping the broth.” He brought out two shallow bowls and scooped a generous portion into each before plopping in some utensils, grabbing his spice caddy with his pinkie, and bringing everything over to the table. Leonard rubbed his palms together and licked his lips, “Dig in, Spock! An’ don’t hold back, lemme know what you think. I won’t be offended if you want to spice it up more; I know how you Vulcans like your spices.”
Dinner went off without a hitch, and they talked about nothing and everything before moving on to dessert, which was a Vulcan spin on a pecan pie. Spock shared that while his mother was "adept" at cooking and baking, he preferred baking because he could never learn the necessary flexibility for cooking since he tended to read the recipe as a set of rules, not a guide. Leonard, on the other hand, was the opposite. He hated baking and was terrible at it because it required strict adherence to recipes. Leonard's mama managed to teach him a few simple southern staples, like dumplings, and he could make a mean flapjack and peach cobbler, but that was about it.
When dessert was finished, Leonard and Spock moved seamlessly to the kitchen to wash and dry the dishes. Spock wasn’t a fan of water, preferring to use sonics for everything. Leonard, however, loved water and thought that dishwashing was another form of meditation. They got into a rhythm of Leonard washing and Spock drying, and soon they were moving back to the table with a beer and chocolate cashew milk. Not much intoxication, but an excellent way to end the night with some casual fun.
Leonard felt a tad empty when Spock finally left for the night, but he assumed basic loneliness. It’d been a long time since he cooked with someone he cared about. Sure, he had Jim and his family, but Jim was his family, so it was different. Somehow. Anyway, Leonard didn’t pay too much mind to the feeling; he just embraced it and settled in for the night. For the first time since the medical brass had arrived, he finally felt at peace. Happy, even. And sated. Very, very sated. Leonard didn’t understand when folks said that a good meal was like good sex, but he must have never had a good meal before because what he just had with Spock? He understood it completely.
He didn’t dwell too much on why he thought of Spock and sex in the same sentence.