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“Doctor McCoy is the Chief Medical Officer aboard the Enterprise, is he not?” Sarek says one night over dinner.
Spock glances up at him over his bowl of plomeek. The five-year mission is still three months away while the Enterprise is undergoing repairs, so Spock has decided to spend his leave on New Vulcan, both to assist in rebuilding and to spend time with his father. They do not discuss it, but Amanda’s absence is a heavy weight upon both of them, and spending time together sometimes seems the only way to keep the grief at bay. It is not Vulcan tradition to speak during meals, but by unspoken accord they had decided to honor the human tradition this time.
Though McCoy is certainly not a topic of conversation that Spock had been expecting.
“Indeed,” Spock says eventually. He is surprised that Sarek even knows his name.
“He was very professional and knowledgeable of our people when he was working with survivors after Vulcan was destroyed,” Sarek says. “I was quite impressed with him.”
“…He is an accomplished xenobiologist,” Spock says, though he had also been surprised by McCoy’s extensive knowledge about Vulcans. It is not easy to study Vulcan physiology as an outsider, and Spock still wonders how he had managed it. He imagines the brash and stubborn human bursting into the VSA, demanding they tell him their secrets.
His amusement fades when he remembers that the VSA no longer exists.
“How is Nyota faring?” Sarek asks.
Spock frowns slightly. His father is usually incredibly clear and succinct whenever he speaks, but Spock can’t follow his thought process now. He wonders why he even mentioned McCoy. “She is well. However, we have decided to terminate our romantic relationship. We both believe we function better as friends.”
“…I see.” Sarek sends him a strange look. “Then you are…seeking a new partner?”
Spock blinks. “Not at this time.”
“Hm.” They sit in silence for so long that Spock believes the topic has been dropped, but then Sarek says, without warning, “I believe Doctor McCoy is single.”
Spock chokes on his soup. The thing about choking is that it goes on for far longer than is comfortable for any parties involved, and with Sarek just staring at him evenly it feels like Spock is choking for hours.
“Is he?” he gasps when he can breathe again. “I had assumed that he and Captain Kirk—”
“He said that he and Captain Kirk have a strong platonic relationship, but not a romantic or sexual one.”
Spock stares at him. “You asked him?”
“Of course,” Sarek says, as if there is anything of course about this entire situation. “Due to the destruction of many of our race, your choice of mates has become severely limited. Since you have already shown a willingness to consider a human as a potential mate, I have been investigating possibilities.”
Something heavier than soup settles abruptly in Spock’s stomach. Just how many ‘possibilities’ has Sarek been talking to? The Bridge crew? Spock’s former students? The entire crew of the Enterprise? He thinks about showing his father around the Bridge on the Enterprise and goes cold at the realization that he could’ve been ‘investigating’ all of them after Spock had moved on.
“I have compiled a list, if you are interested,” Sarek continues, and Spock briefly considers the pros and cons of flinging himself off the roof of a building. “Doctor McCoy is currently at the top. He is intellectually compatible with you, and does not seem to be entirely psi-null if you wish to have telepathic intimacy with him. He also will be with you on the Enterprise for the next five years, so distance will not cause problems like it did with you and T’Pring.”
Spock just stares at his father. His brain has snagged on telepathic intimacy. Spock has never considered McCoy as anything other than a friend, but now that he mentions it…
Spock shakes his head and repeats forcefully, “I am not looking for a partner at this time.”
“…If you insist,” Sarek says, and retires to bed before Spock can process anything that he had said.
--
Sarek, to Spock’s horror, refuses to stop mentioning McCoy’s suitableness as his potential mate.
“Are you aware that Doctor McCoy has a child?” Sarek says one afternoon while he and Spock are standing side by side in a turbolift. They have been surveying the construction progress of the VSA – Spock’s thoughts had mostly been on his mother, so the topic once again surprises him.
Spock tilts his head. “Yes, he has mentioned his daughter once or twice.”
“From what I could gather from his ex-wife, he is a capable and dedicated father, despite being so far away from his child.”
Spock actually turns to face him. “Father! Surely you must know that it is incredibly rude among humans to speak to their ex-partners in such a fashion—”
“She did not seem to mind,” Sarek says. Spock blinks at him, aghast.
“I doubt Doctor McCoy would feel the same,” he insists.
“Regardless, her responses only supported my hypothesis that he is the most suitable partner for you at this time.” Sarek tucks his hands into his robe sleeves. “He has already shown capability of being a good parent, and his psi-rating as well as his xenobiology background would make him exceptionally qualified to care for Vulcan children, should you decide you wish to have any.”
Spock’s mouth drops open. For the first time in his life he is completely speechless.
Sarek peers at him. “If you are concerned about the need to procreate biologically, there are many who would act as surrogates—”
The turbolift finally arrives at the ground floor, and Spock runs.
--
The following week, Spock and Sarek attend a health seminar to gain better understanding of the long-term effects of broken marriage and familial bonds. The healer conducting the seminar states that Vulcans with untreated or multiple broken bonds tend to become what humans would call ‘touch-starved’, desperate for both physical and telepathic contact. Vulcans with intact bonds suffer from this as well if they are away from their family and bondmates for extended periods of time, as the ability to touch others while relaxing their shields is extremely important for Vulcan mental health. However, for those who have lost their main sources of contact completely, it is particularly devastating. Eventually, if such individuals cannot find a replacement for their telepathic contact, they can become very stressed and even agitated.
Spock finds it all fascinating. Sarek seems to take it as a sign that he is not being persistent enough.
“I do not wish for you to suffer such a fate, and it is my duty as your father to ensure that you do not,” he says to Spock sternly after the seminar is over and they are walking home. “Please, consider taking Doctor McCoy as your mate. From my findings, he would make an excellent partner for both physical and telepathic contact.”
Spock knows what he really means by that, but somehow he still sees Jim’s wide smirk in his mind’s eye. “Father, I receive adequate telepathic contact, despite my broken familial bond. I still have my bonds with you, Sybok, and Michael, and Nyota is still quite comfortable with allowing me the intimacy of a mind meld with her. I am also allowed shallow meld states with Captain Kirk, Doctor M’Benga, and even Doctor McCoy.”
Sarek stares at him fiercely. “But what of the pon farr? As Doctor McCoy already knows of it—”
“Father, I must request that you cease mentioning Doctor McCoy’s suitability as my mate,” Spock says, barely biting back his frustration. “He is my friend, and I do not plan to get romantically involved with anyone at this time.”
Sarek shakes his head “It is never ill-advised to be prepared for future contingencies.”
“Father.” Spock stops them on the street. He touches his fingers to Sarek’s wrist and drops his shields marginally, so that Sarek can feel his sincerity. “You must trust that I am well-equipped to evaluate and select my romantic partners myself. I do not require you to collect information for me.”
Sarek falters slightly. He stares down at their point of contact. “I do trust you, my son. I am simply…concerned.”
“And I am grateful for it,” Spock says, letting his hand drop. “However, you do not need to be…this concerned.”
Sarek searches his gaze, and then nods. They continue down the street, and Spock thinks, rather foolishly, that he’s finally gotten through to him.
--
Their discussion stops Sarek for about a week.
After that, however, he seems to decide that he can’t leave such an important task in his son’s hands after all, for his efforts redouble. Every conversation they have now seems to fall back to McCoy in some way or another, in increasingly perplexing ways.
“Doctor McCoy has an aesthetically pleasing body,” Sarek comments, almost thoughtfully. He is standing in front of Spock’s desk, interrupting his work for apparently no reason other than to discuss McCoy. In his hand is a holophoto of McCoy performing a surgery, bent over his patient with a serious look on his face. Spock is horrified when he starts to consider the possibilities of how Sarek even came into possession of such a photo. “Do you not agree?”
Spock glances up at his father, face stony. “Father, I am working—”
“Prominent cheekbones, toned arms, hazel eyes, an unusual color in both humans and Vulcans. Broad shoulders, long—”
“Father,” Spock interrupts. “I am starting to find your behavior illogical. I have told you before that I do not require your assistance in finding a mate, nor do I even wish to start doing so at this time. You should respect my boundaries and those of my friend, Doctor McCoy.”
Sarek just stares at him calculatingly, his thoughts unreadable.
Spock sighs. “Why are you so insistent on this course of action?”
Sarek looks down at the photo of McCoy again. “Your mother aided you in regards to your relationship with Nyota, did she not?”
Spock blinks, somewhat surprised. “Yes. She helped me understand human courting rituals.”
“Then it is my duty to fill in for where she can no longer provide for you.”
Spock frowns. “Father—”
“Additionally, the future of New Vulcan depends on all of our choices in mates, including yours. With most of our race destroyed, we no longer have the luxury of taking our time to pick a mate. Repopulation must happen now. And with Amanda…” He visibly struggles for a moment, “…gone, I no longer have the luxury of ignoring any romantic advice you may require from a parent. I do not have an affinity for feelings and intuition the way that she did, but I do have statistics and logic. They have not failed me before, and I do not believe they are failing me now.”
Spock has to admit he can see some logic to his father’s reasoning. It’s true that New Vulcan needs to be repopulated as soon as possible, but Spock had assumed, no doubt correctly, that they wouldn’t want his tainted blood. He supposes adoption and surrogation are always possible; perhaps that is why his father mentioned McCoy’s experience in parenthood…
Spock shakes his head. No. His father’s behavior is extreme and unnecessary, and he will not let him start dictating his personal romance. Crisis or not, Spock believes he still has the right of an individual, to choose for himself if and when he reproduces, and with whom.
“While I understand your reasons, I still do not believe your methods are necessary,” Spock says. “Our population suffered heavy losses, but not enough that reproduction will be a problem in the long run. Besides, I doubt they would want my human blood mixed into the new population.”
Sarek’s eyes tighten slightly at this, but he says nothing. He also knows just how likely it is that this is true. Instead, he places the photo of McCoy on Spock’s desk. Apparently he is once again ignoring Spock’s wishes and is now resorting to different tactics than simply bringing him up in conversation. Spock barely holds back another sigh.
“His hands are also rather dexterous,” Sarek adds before he leaves the room, and Spock’s entire body flushes green.
--
By the time Sarek gets around to explicitly bringing up sex, Spock catches on fast enough to make an excuse for somewhere else he has to be before his father can fully formulate the sentence “the compatibility of Vulcan and human genitalia.”
--
It’s a week later when Spock learns that his older counterpart has invited Doctor McCoy and other Starfleet medical personnel to New Vulcan in order to assist the few remaining Vulcan healers and restock medical supplies. Spock arranges to meet him at the shuttle docking pad, as roads and transportation have only just recently become a priority, and thus are still relatively lacking. He is relieved that McCoy is here, firstly because he is a skilled doctor and will be of great help to the colony, but also because his presence will hopefully prevent his father from pestering him any further on the matter of choosing him as his mate.
Although, Sarek has not been subtle in any regard before, and it is equally possible that with McCoy here he will be even worse.
Regardless, Spock has decided to firmly ignore anything his father had said, and just appreciate time with McCoy as he always has – time spent with a close friend. However, as soon as he sees McCoy coming down the ramp, he immediately thinks of what his father had said about his hands and flushes green.
“Spock?” McCoy is suddenly too close to him. “You look ill. I know I was brought here to check on the health of all the survivors, but I didn’t think my first patient would be you.”
“I am fine, Doctor,” Spock says tightly, dodging away from McCoy’s hand coming up to check his temperature. The last thing he needs is those hands on his bare skin. “I have simply been out in the sun too long.”
“You should wear sunscreen, you know – logic can’t protect you from sunburn,” McCoy grouches habitually, though his expression soon turns thoughtful as they start walking in the direction of the hospital. “Is this sun much different than Vulcan’s?”
“Although its energy output is roughly the same, the daily irradiation this sun emits is slightly higher than that of Vulcan’s. In essence, we do require more sunscreen.”
McCoy grins, obviously pleased that Spock actually agreed with him. Something about it makes Spock burn just as much as the New Vulcan sun, and he quickly looks away before anything can show on his face.
They fall into familiar scientific discussion, but for once it is anything but comfortable. Spock can’t stop thinking of everything his father had said. He has always admired McCoy’s intelligence, but as they walk down the path and McCoy talks with him about every single aspect of Vulcan anatomy, Spock is reminded of just how unique and groundbreaking his ideas truly are. As they inevitably fall into an argument, he’s reminded of how much he enjoys pitting his mind against McCoy’s and teasing him all in the same breath. He hasn’t had a rapport like this with anyone for a long time, and he finds himself basking in it. He’s reminded of things his father has yet to figure out, like McCoy’s compassion, his witty, snarky sense of humor that bites just as much as Spock’s does, and the way his hazel eyes lighten up whenever he smiles or laughs.
And his hands. Spock absolutely cannot stop staring at his hands.
After a twenty minute walk, they stop in the middle of the road leading up to the hospital. McCoy gives him a small wave. “Thanks for the escort, Spock. See you later?”
“Yes.” Spock doesn’t wave, but he has an inexplicable urge to as he watches McCoy walk off towards the hospital. He also has an elevated heart rate and flushed skin, but he knows who to blame for those.
…This is going to be very troublesome indeed.
--
McCoy looks over his shoulder, just in time to see Spock hurry off to wherever he has to be, and frowns.
He’d been worried about Spock all month. Spock had lost his mother, his planet, his romantic relationship with Nyota, and then left for New Vulcan all at essentially the same time, and that can take its toll on anybody, let alone a stubborn Vulcan-human hybrid who refuses to acknowledge that he even has emotions half the time. McCoy had thought that spending time with his father would probably be good for him, but he couldn’t help but be concerned that he wasn’t coping properly, or eating properly, or resting properly, and seeing him just now certainly hadn’t eased his worries any.
Spock had been flushed green, like he had a fever. His eyes had skittered all over the place, like he was having trouble focusing. He’d stood there on the sidewalk long after McCoy had left him, like he didn’t have the energy to move.
All signs point towards some kind of illness, and McCoy is so preoccupied trying to figure out what it could be based on such vague symptoms that he doesn’t notice Sarek approaching him until he just about crashes into him.
“Ambassador!” he squawks, quickly tucking his hands behind his back before he can get into trouble for an accidental cultural faux pas. He wonders why the Ambassador’s even here for a moment before he remembers that he had been put in charge of overseeing the Starfleet medical personnel, at older Spock’s request.
“Doctor, your medical file claims that you are psi-null,” Sarek says, with no preamble. “However, when we worked together before, it seemed that you at least had some ability to project emotion. I was wondering if you would permit me to test this theory.”
McCoy just blinks at him. He’s just gotten off a ten-hour shuttle ride, during which he’d read every file the older Spock had made available to him about Vulcan physiological and telepathic health, and is hoping to get to working on patients before he either forgets everything he’d read or passes out entirely. Not to mention that he’s now concerned that Spock is coming down with some horrible illness, and his anxiety level has spiked some. He certainly isn’t in the mood for one of those psi-rating tests. “Can it wait?”
Sarek shakes his head. “I do not believe so. If you are truly not psi-null, as I suspect, then leaving your mind unshielded around the patients in this hospital would only be detrimental to them.”
“Wh—” McCoy runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you mention all this when we were working with Vulcans before, on the Enterprise?”
“That was a crisis situation. Additionally, as many Vulcans at that time also had trouble maintaining their shields, one mind shielding itself would not have made much difference.” Sarek folds his hands into his sleeves. “However, now that you would be the only one besides the patients unshielded, it would be very much noticed and not at all helpful, particularly if you must perform surgery or some other type of hands-on medicine.”
McCoy lets out a harsh breath. He certainly doesn’t want to do any more harm – these people have been through enough. “…Alright. Lead the way.”
Sarek takes him to a room in the hospital that is set up with cortical monitors and other brain-scan devices. McCoy sits on the stool Sarek gestures at and watches as Sarek begins modulating a cortical monitor. It only takes him a few seconds, which surprises McCoy – he wouldn’t expect a non-medical person to easily understand how to program the cortical monitor. But then he thinks about how much Spock always knows about computers and other technology and starts to understand where all that knowledge must have come from.
Once he’s finished, Sarek sits in the other stool across from McCoy. “I will place this cortical monitor on your neck, and then initiate a light meld to assess your psi-rating.”
McCoy nods. He remembers the procedure from the Academy. “I understand.”
“…My son has published many papers on a variety of topics in Starfleet journals,” Sarek says while placing the cortical monitor on McCoy’s neck. “He is quite intelligent.”
McCoy glances up at him, surprised by the seemingly random statement. He finds Sarek just quietly watching him, and looks away again. “I know – we’ve debated about half of ‘em already.”
“And do you find Spock a suitable debate partner?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so. Sometimes I have to resort to ribbing about emotional expression to get a win over him.”
“Then you would say that he…mentally stimulates you?”
McCoy’s head shoots up at that. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at Sarek. “Why are you asking all these questions?”
“I am simply trying to learn more about Spock’s colleagues,” Sarek says vaguely. “What are your current life goals? Do you wish to stay on in Starfleet?”
McCoy frowns, but doesn’t see any reason not to answer. “For now, yeah – Jim and Spock are the closest thing I have to a family these days, and I plan to stick with them wherever they want to go. Plus I’ll learn a lot about xenobiology while traveling with them on the Enterprise. After that…well, I haven’t really thought about it much.”
“I see. And what are your thoughts in regards to starting a family?”
McCoy shifts uncomfortably in his seat. These questions are…rather personal. And weird. Why the hell would Sarek ask him these specific questions if he was just trying to get to know him? “I have a daughter already. Other than that? I don’t have any current plans. I wouldn’t be opposed to more children, though.”
“I see. I will now initiate the mind meld.” Sarek is quiet for a moment as he lightly presses his fingers to McCoy’s face. “What type of person would you say sexually stimulates you?”
McCoy’s brain short-circuits for a second, hardly even believing what he just heard, and then his flight response kicks in. He stands abruptly, knocking Sarek’s fingers from his face with the motion, and rips off the cortical monitor. He practically runs for the counter, dropping it gently there before turning around again, eyes wild. “I think maybe I’m too tired for these tests right now, can we postpone this?”
Sarek just stares at him. His expression is unreadable as he dips his head. “Very well, I should have realized you would be tired. We will run the test tomorrow.”
“Great. Thanks.”
And with that, McCoy sprints from the room.
--
What the hell was that?!
McCoy’s thoughts are a complete mess as he runs down the street, looking for the address to Spock’s home that the older Spock had given him. The Ambassador is kindly lending him a room on their property during his stay on New Vulcan, but he’s mainly going there because he needs to talk to Spock, any Spock, about what just happened.
Because surely he must be missing something culturally – there’s no way Sarek was actually trying to proposition him, was there?! He’d just lost his wife, for fuck’s sake! Unless it was necessary for pon farr, but then why wouldn’t he choose another Vulcan—
McCoy reaches the modest arch currently denoting the front of the estate, and for a moment just stands there with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. He tries to move more slowly and respectfully as he actually enters the home and wanders down the hall. He has no idea where anything is—not even his own room, as Sarek was supposed to escort him back when he was done at the hospital—so he just walks until he finds a door with a light shining beneath it.
He steps in, rather hurriedly, and then leans heavily on the door as it shuts behind him. His heart is pounding in his chest and he’s still trying desperately to catch his breath.
Spock, his Spock, looks up from his desk, where a computer and several PADDs are scattered in front of him. His eyebrows furrow slightly. “Doctor?”
McCoy looks at him with wild eyes. “Spock, I think your dad just tried to come onto me!”
Spock just stares at him. “That does not seem in character.”
“I know, but he kept asking me all these, these questions!” McCoy starts pacing around the room aggressively. “Like what my life goals are, or if I found you a suitable debate partner.”
Spock looks stricken suddenly – honestly, it’s a little strange that McCoy can even tell. He’s gotten better at reading him, but not by much.
“He may have just been expressing curiosity about you as one of my colleagues,” Spock says weakly.
“Yeah, that’s what he said, too.” McCoy stops suddenly and whirls to face Spock. “But then he asked me what kind of person sexually stimulates me!”
Spock visibly winces. “I truly apologize for his behavior, Doctor. The loss of our planet seems to have triggered some sort of overprotective instinct in him. He believes that with my choice in partners now severely limited, he must assist me in finding someone suitable.”
“Wait, you mean he was just being an overbearing parent?!” McCoy collapses into the chair on the other side of Spock’s desk. “God, that’s a relief! I was worried I was gonna have to break the poor man’s heart, and so soon after Ms Grayson passed, too…”
Something dark flits across Spock’s face, but it’s gone just as quickly. “He has been…‘investigating’ possibilities for some time now, and believes that you are currently the most suitable person to be my partner. No doubt he was attempting to support his hypothesis by gaining further information from you.”
“…Oh.” McCoy side-eyes him. “And what do you think about all this?”
Spock can only maintain eye contact for a second before he looks down at his desk. He’s quiet for a long time, sorting his thoughts, and a rush of anticipation catches in McCoy’s chest. It’s hard to believe that Sarek of all people thinks that he’s the most suitable partner for Spock, but if he does then maybe…
Because the truth is, McCoy has been harboring a big fat crush on Spock ever since he first laid eyes on him. He had let Jim believe that his comment had purely been about liking him because he could roast Jim Kirk, and while that’s certainly part of it, in reality he likes everything. He has seen how devastatingly brutal Spock can be with his words—something that makes McCoy hum a bit deep in his bones—but also how gentle. After Spock had his emotional breakdown on the Bridge and asked McCoy to relieve him of command, he hadn’t gone to his quarters to mourn, but had instead gone to Sickbay to help try and stabilize the worst of the patients. McCoy had seen the gentle way he had treated them, how he had been thinking of them instead of his own pain, despite how tight his eyes were with sorrow.
It hadn’t taken much for McCoy to fall helplessly head over heels for him after that, especially once they started talking more and discovered their mutual love of debate and snarky attitudes. Every moment spent with Spock is, well, stimulating, and McCoy had been considering asking both him and Uhura what their thoughts on poly relationships were once the pain of the Vulcan disaster had lessened somewhat. But it wasn’t really the time for romance, and Spock and Uhura had apparently felt the same, as they’d terminated their romantic relationship soon after the Enterprise returned to Earth.
McCoy has felt stuck in a crossroads ever since, unsure if he should even bring it up at this point or just put it on the back burner until things settled down. Spock needs a friend more than a lover right now, he had figured, and so he came to New Vulcan resolved to shelve everything for now and just be there for Spock in whatever way he could.
But now, with Sarek’s not-so-subtle prodding and the way that Spock had shyly averted his eyes when he’d questioned him about it, McCoy can’t help but think about it again.
“His efforts have been…extreme and unnecessary,” Spock says finally. “I believe I am fully capable of choosing my own mate, and wish he would not interfere in such a way.”
McCoy sits with that for a moment. He’s gotten better at parsing out Spock-speak, too, but he’s still not great at it. He can’t tell if what he’d said is cause for hope or disappointment.
He reminds himself firmly that, regardless, he’s not here for romance.
“Parents are the same everywhere, huh?” he says eventually.
Spock’s shoulders relax, and he meets McCoy’s eyes again with a hint of humor on his face. “Indeed.”
McCoy smirks, his eyes falling to the desk. He’s startled to see a picture of—well, him. He hadn’t noticed it from the doorway, but it’s a holophoto of him working with a patient, a focused look on his face. It looks like it might have been taken during his residency, as McCoy would like to think he doesn’t look that goddamn tired all the time.
Spock follows his gaze, jolts, and then practically tosses the photo off the desk, his face flushed green. “My father put this here.”
McCoy has to pretend to wipe his face to hide his grin. Sarek may have placed it there, but Spock didn’t get rid of it. “Uh-huh. Not very subtle, is he?”
“No. Not in the slightest,” Spock admits, eyes glued to his desk.
“Well, I guess I should be flattered,” McCoy says, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. “With Joss’s parents I had to bend over backwards to get them to like me. It’s kinda nice to have someone’s parent trying to hook me up with their kid for a change.”
Spock glances up at him, his eyes so dark and captivating. McCoy’s traitorous heart starts thumping a little faster.
“Anyone would be fortunate to have you,” Spock murmurs, and then returns to his work like he hasn’t just shattered McCoy’s entire world.
McCoy sits there in stunned silence for a moment, wondering, hoping, wanting. Is it really so bad to think it might be possible to have this? He knows the timing could be better, but if Spock is actually willing, then…
Ambassador Spock comes by sometime later to escort him to his room, and McCoy has to stop himself several times from asking if he ever had a relationship with his McCoy. It’s not his place to ask, and anyway he’s not sure he wants to hear either answer.
Once he’s alone in his room, he pulls out his PADD and studies the articles Ambassador Spock had sent him about Vulcan anatomy and telepathic health. He’s read them about a thousand times already, though, so it’s not as much of a distraction as he’d hoped.
Instead, he keeps thinking about that photo of himself on Spock’s desk.
Shaking his head, McCoy tosses the PADD aside and gets ready for bed. Why does he always do this to himself? He gets all worked up over something that isn’t even possible, and then he just inevitably ends up disappointed or heart-broken. He’s here to work with patients, not to get all tangled up in his complicated love life.
McCoy falls into bed and orders the lights out.
He stubbornly ignores the little flutter of hope in his chest.
--
McCoy returns to the hospital the following morning for the psi-rating test. Sarek is waiting for him in the same room as before, cortical monitor already in hand.
“Are you sufficiently rested for the procedure?” Sarek asks as McCoy sits on the stool.
“Yeah – just don’t ask me any more questions about my suitability as Spock’s partner, okay?”
Sarek dips his head amenably as he places the cortical monitor on McCoy’s neck. “I apologize if my questions were too…forward. I was simply trying to gather information.”
“Usually people have to give consent before they’re used in any kind of study,” McCoy says drily, though he isn’t that offended. It’s funny, really, now that he knows why Sarek had been asking.
“As I am merely collecting information for personal matters, rather than a study, I did not believe it necessary, but perhaps you are correct.” Sarek washes his hands in the sink and then dries them thoroughly on a small hand towel. “Spock also insisted my methods were insensitive.”
“As an individual, I was pretty freaked out. But as a parent…” McCoy gives Sarek a small grin. “I think I get it. If it was my daughter’s happiness and survival on the line, I’d probably resort to extreme measures, too.”
“…Perhaps my logic is uncertain where my son is concerned,” Sarek admits as he sits across from him. McCoy has to hide a wider smile. “However, I am concerned that he is not taking the problem of his lack of choices seriously. And while it is true that it is not an immediate problem, Vulcans will be pairing up quickly because of the need to repopulate our society. If he waits too long…”
“…Pon farr,” McCoy supplies. Sarek nods. “Well, I still think it’s ultimately Spock’s choice. But again, as a parent, I understand your concern.”
“…Then you will consider my conclusions?” Sarek asks, but in a way that almost seems…playful.
McCoy clears his throat awkwardly. “Well—”
“I believe you are the most suitable mate for my son,” Sarek says bluntly. “If you are doubtful of this, you may scrutinize my research.”
He hands McCoy a PADD, who accepts it incredulously.
“First, however, allow me to perform the psi-rating test, so that you may start working on patients.”
“Please,” McCoy croaks, his throat suddenly as dry as the New Vulcan desert. He’s too overwhelmed by the prospect of the PADD to even think about going over it yet.
Sarek initiates the meld, his presence in McCoy’s mind clinical and respectful. He doesn’t even glance at McCoy’s thoughts, which is good, because they’re in absolute chaos. He can hardly even focus on the questions Sarek poses to him, what with the PADD digging into his palms from the death grip he has on it.
“…As I suspected,” Sarek says as he breaks the meld. “Doctor McCoy, I have determined that you possess a psi-rating of 66. Therefore, I must teach you how to shield your mind before I can allow you to see any patients.”
“Really wish I’d known that before I started working with Vulcans,” McCoy mutters, but then eyes Sarek suspiciously. “…Wait a minute, that’s not going in your personal data collection, is it?”
Sarek’s face is suspiciously blank. “I must include all relevant information. Spock is telepathic, and values telepathic intimacy more than almost any other kind of platonic, romantic and/or sexual intimacy.”
“How the hell do you even know that?” McCoy demands. Then it hits him. “Oh God, Uhura…”
“She was very forthcoming. Apparently she is also concerned about Spock now that they have severed their romantic involvement.”
McCoy buries his face in his hands. “…Just teach me to shield my mind, would you? I don’t think I can take any more of this.”
Sarek, thankfully, obliges him. McCoy finds the shielding methods difficult to grasp at first – Sarek has to initiate another meld just to give him an idea of how it’s supposed to work. Even after that, McCoy still isn’t fully convinced he’s doing it right, but Sarek seems satisfied, so he finally lets him enter the hospital properly.
McCoy buries himself in his work for a while, all other thoughts completely gone from his mind as he focuses on his patients and shielding.
He doesn’t think about the PADD again until he goes on break and finds it waiting for him in his cubby. He hesitates for a long time, but his curiosity gets the best of him. At first he can barely even hold the damn thing; his palms are so sweaty he has to keep setting it down to wipe them off on his pants. Once he finally gets into it, however, he’s amazed at the amount of research Sarek has done to construct his statistical analysis. He’s cataloged hundreds of Spock’s personal preferences, as well as characteristics of hundreds of potential candidates. There are Vulcans, humans, Andorians – candidates from at least ten different Federation species. He’s done hundreds of correspondence analyses, multiple linear regressions, variability studies. It’s extremely impressive.
And, amazingly, McCoy finds himself agreeing with Sarek’s conclusions. Statistically, he, Leonard H. McCoy, is the most suitable partner for Spock.
McCoy has to set the PADD down and sit with that for a long time.
Despite what some people may say otherwise, McCoy is a man of science. He believes in the work he and his colleagues do to understand diseases and create vaccines and cures; he believes in the work others do to understand and quantify the world and universe around them. He believes in hypotheses and tests and tests of those tests and whatever theories come out of those conclusions. And if he doesn’t have faith in science, then what does he have?
But still…how can it possibly be true that he is the most suitable partner for someone as amazing as Spock?
For the remainder of his break, McCoy uses Sarek’s data to quickly run some statistical tests of his own, just to double-check. When he comes up with the exact same conclusion, he’s more than a little stunned.
And unreasonably flattered and hopeful.
He walks back into the clinic doing his best to shield his wildly romantic thoughts from the patients. Now is not the time, even if most of him is consumed with what Sarek’s conclusions suggest. Him and Spock, partners; giving each other every conceivable kind of intimacy; arguing day in and day out; raising a family together. They’re all the things McCoy has always wanted, but never dared to hope for.
And yet…and yet.
Sarek glances over at him as McCoy settles at a patient close to where he is speaking with a healer, and raises his eyebrow. Blushing, McCoy works harder to shield his mind and shove the entirely inappropriate thoughts back down where they belong.
“What did you think of my findings?” Sarek asks him as they’re leaving the hospital.
McCoy looks up at him. “…Scientifically, I’d have to agree with you.”
“And emotionally?”
McCoy blinks. “I’m surprised you care about that.”
“Emotional attachment is something humans value,” Sarek says clinically. “As you are human, and my son is half-human, it is an important factor to consider.”
“Okay, well, I can’t speak for Spock, but…” McCoy clears his throat awkwardly. “Emotionally, I am extremely attached.”
“Good,” Sarek says, and actually sounds like he means it. “Will you then take the initiative, or do you require my assistance?”
McCoy stops dead in the middle of the path. “Woah, who said anything about taking the initiative?”
Sarek tilts his head slightly. “You are interested in my son. Statistics show that you two would be exceedingly compatible. What else is there to stop you?”
McCoy’s mouth opens and closes for several seconds. He realizes that he has no idea what’s stopping him. The only unknown factor in this whole equation is how Spock really feels, but that’s how romance always goes – you take a chance, and hope you don’t get hurt in the process.
He thinks about Spock keeping that photo of him on his desk and says, “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Sarek places both hands on McCoy’s shoulders, startling the hell out of him. “Please, leave it to me.”
McCoy swallows. He has a feeling Spock isn’t going to appreciate his father continuing to meddle very much, but whatever Sarek comes up with has to be better than any clumsy attempt McCoy would make, so hell, maybe he should just go for it.
“…Okay, thank you.” McCoy glances at him uncertainly. “Should I, uh, prepare in any way?”
Sarek tilts his head. “Based on my findings, I believe you are suitable just the way you are.”
And if that doesn’t stroke a man’s ego, McCoy doesn’t know what would. If Sarek really thinks so highly of him…
Well, how bad could it go?
--
McCoy sits nervously in an extremely fancy restaurant on a nearby Starbase, wearing nice slacks and a button-up that Ambassador Spock gave him. Apparently his McCoy had often worn something similar, and based on the slightly amused expression the Ambassador had been wearing, it had been a knockout outfit on him. McCoy isn’t so sure it looks as good on him, or fits quite right, and he keeps tugging at his shirt as he continuously accepts tea he doesn’t like all that much from the waiter that keeps stopping at his table.
He wishes Spock would show up already, but every time he thinks it, his anxiety spikes and he downs his cup of tea, the beverage burning all the way down his throat. And as soon as his cup is empty, the damn waiter comes by again, and the vicious cycle continues.
McCoy’s already used the bathroom six damn times already. But that’s what he gets for showing up early, he supposes.
It doesn’t take Spock much longer to arrive, at least, as he’s always perfectly punctual. He looks incredibly confused as he enters the restaurant. He glances around discreetly, but it isn’t until he spots McCoy that his expression loosens.
And, unfortunately, settles into something that looks a hell of a lot like anger.
Uh-oh.
Spock stalks up to his table, his ears flushed bright green. “Did my father invite you here? I have tolerated his interference thus far, but this is—”
“Wait, no—Spock, I asked him to set this up for us.” Spock’s eyebrow shoots up, and it’s lucky McCoy has so much experience with it, or he might have lost his nerve in the face of it. “The truth is, I’ve been, uh, interested in you for some time now. I never said anything because I thought a relationship between us would be ill-timed right at the moment, but Sarek seems to think so highly of my, how did he phrase it? ‘Suitability as your partner’? So I thought…why not give it a shot?”
Spock’s face is stony. “You do not have to go on a date with me just because my father asked you to.”
“That’s not—it wasn’t because he asked me to!” McCoy growls, suddenly frustrated. Had Spock heard anything that he’d said? “Have you even looked at his findings?”
Spock falters slightly. “…I have not.”
“Then I suggest you do.” McCoy hands the PADD over to him. “Because honestly? As a scientist, I find his data and conclusions completely sound.”
Spock takes the PADD skeptically, but at least sits down at the table with him. He flips his teacup over, at last giving McCoy the signal for stopping his own never-ending provision of tea. He flips his own cup over and sits there anxiously, trying not to drum his fingers on the table as Spock reads.
Eventually, Spock glances up over the PADD at him. “…I cannot find a logical fallacy in his findings.”
McCoy swallows thickly. “So? It’s not like you as a scientist to reject hypotheses that have been shown to be valid.”
Spock stares at him, his eyes dark and inviting in the dimmed lighting of the restaurant. “…We would have to perform our own experiments. One study is hardly definitively conclusive.”
“Well, I’d say we collaborate pretty well, wouldn’t you?”
Spock seems hesitant suddenly. “Doctor—Leonard, is this something you truly wish to attempt?”
McCoy places his elbows on the table and leans closer. “Spock, I want us to be 100% clear first off – I am not doing this because your father asked me to. He was kind of pushy, I’ll admit that, but statistics or not, I wouldn’t even be considering this if it wasn’t already something I’ve been daydreaming about since the minute I met you.”
Spock’s eyebrow slowly creeps upwards. His ears are looking awfully green again. “That long?”
“Unfortunately, I have a thing for sarcastic, scathing wit,” McCoy says, smiling shyly. “I was actually considering talking to you and Uhura about it before—well, everything. After that, it just didn’t seem like the right time to say anything.”
“And now?”
“Well, your father thinks so highly of me.” McCoy glances at Spock. “The only thing I’m currently unsure of is your position on all this.”
Spock turns away slightly, looking out the window of the restaurant. “I must admit it had not occurred to me as a possibility until my father brought it up repeatedly. However, there must have been some part of me that had always desired it, as it was incredibly easy to…relate to his points.”
This time it’s McCoy’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning…” Spock squirms slightly. “I find you attractive and mentally stimulating. Thus far, those have been my only requirements for entering into a relationship. And if it is backed by statistics as well, then…”
“There’s no reason not to,” McCoy supplies. “Right?”
Spock meets his eyes. “Correct.”
They stare at each other for a moment.
McCoy swallows. “Spock, I, um…I know Sarek basically did all the hard work for us, but I still think I should ask you properly. Will you…be my partner?”
Spock glances around them, likely to see if anyone is watching them, and then reaches over and strokes his fingers along McCoy’s wrist. “It would be my honor.”
McCoy can’t help but grin, and barely stops himself from covering Spock’s hand with his own. Even he knows how scandalous that would be in public. “So…what now?”
Spock raises his eyebrow. “I believe we should eat dinner.”
McCoy laughs. “You’re lucky I had ‘tolerant of sassy attitudes’ listed under my character traits in Sarek’s report.”
“And you are fortunate that I had ‘finds sassy attitudes attractive’ listed under mine,” Spock retorts, and very nearly smiles.
McCoy smiles back, and doesn’t give a damn what their waiter will think as he takes Spock’s hand in his.
--
In the end, they barely even make it through dinner before Spock insists that they return to his home. He hadn’t been able to stop staring at McCoy all evening, at his smile and his eyes and his hands. He’d wanted everything, and found himself impatient for it – no doubt partially because he still finds it difficult to believe that McCoy truly wants this, that he isn’t just doing this because his father set them up.
He finds it difficult to believe up until they get back to his room and McCoy kisses him. And suddenly, Spock can feel every single thing that he feels.
The want, the care, the love he feels from him is…exhilarating.
Spock reaches up to draw his fingers back through McCoy’s soft and wavy hair as McCoy tilts his chin and kisses him deeper. Kissing McCoy feels like feeding a fire – Spock is quickly consumed by it, and he can feel the heat of it in every cell of his body.
He starts walking backwards, intending to find somewhere where he can pin McCoy down and touch every millimeter of his body. His knees find the bed first, however, giving McCoy an opportunity to maneuver Spock bodily onto the bed and straddle his hips, pinning him down instead.
Spock swallows, his breath hitching slightly as McCoy leans over him. “I see my father was correct about your ‘toned arms’.”
McCoy barks out a loud laugh. “Spock, are you sure he wasn’t checking me out?”
Spock draws his fingers down McCoy’s face, tracing his psi points. He wants to meld with him so badly. “I am beginning to question that as well, as I am also attracted to you and had not noticed your impressive biceps until he…pointed it out.”
“Oh, God.” McCoy buries his face in his hands, bright red and shaking with laughter. “Is there something about me that just knocks Vulcans out, or what?”
Spock gingerly takes one of his hands from his face. He cradles it in his own hands, tracing McCoy’s veins with his fingers. “I would say these would ‘knock a Vulcan out’, as you say.”
McCoy smirks and leans down to press a kiss to Spock’s fingers. Spock’s breath leaves him audibly, and he fights to hold back any more sounds as McCoy starts licking his fingers. This is so much more intense than he ever could’ve imagined, and he burns with the want of it, of more, of—
The door swishes open suddenly, causing them both to flinch. McCoy doesn’t have time to move off of Spock before Sarek walks in, a PADD in hand.
“Spock, I wished to discuss—” Sarek stops, sees the two of them, and then nods sagely. “Ah, good. I am pleased that you are finally taking my advice.”
Spock feels like he flushes all over despite his attempt to stop it. He struggles to sit up, McCoy settling back on his thighs in a highly distracting way, and says, “I am not—!”
But Sarek is already gone, the only sign of him having been there at all a condom that he had not-so-discreetly left on Spock’s desk.
“Computer, lock doors,” Spock says, albeit belatedly.
McCoy is shaking against him, and it takes Spock a moment to realize that he’s laughing. “God this is all just so ridiculous!”
“We can stop, if you wish,” Spock says, though he is already curling his fingers around McCoy’s again.
McCoy’s eyes are bright as he glares at him. “That is not what I meant, and you know it!”
And yes, Spock believes that he does.
So he lays back again and pulls McCoy down with him.
Whatever else can be said about his methods, Spock knows better than to doubt his father’s statistics.