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Smoke lingered outside the swinging doors of the saloon. Leonard pushed it in and took a deep breath of stale air. Then wrinkled his nose. If it smelled like strong sweat and alcohol to him, then his partner was definitely going to hate it.
“Computer,” Leonard called out. “Pause program. Stop all olfactory programmed settings.”
“Working,” the computer replied.
“Resume program.”
Leonard took a second breath and smiled. The sour smell in the air vanished.
“I was under the assumption we were to enjoy this program as intended,” Spock said behind him. Leonard turned and watched him stride into the bar.
Leonard grinned as he approached. Spock’s belt jangled as he walked. He even wore that thigh holster Leonard begged him to put on, complete with a vintage gun in the hostler—intimidating, except for the fact it was just for show. His tunic was white and freshly pressed, far too clean to belong to a real cowboy. The vest was black and matched his pants, and damn did it do some wonderful things for those legs…
He even wore the tall stetson Leonard left for him. His ears poked up a bit into his hat, which couldn’t be too comfortable, but Spock seemed more amused than annoyed. “Well, howdy there,” Leonard drawled. “I see you figured out how to put on the whole ensemble.”
Spock straightened and came to a parade rest at Leonard’s side. The bar was empty—the hologram programs on the Enterprise were state-of-the-art, but coding other characters into the program was beyond their capabilities for the moment. The computer played a lively soundtrack with chatter and music to fill the air, which Leonard appreciated, especially as he waited with baited breath to hear Spock’s response.
“The clothing you provided is not as complex as ceremonial Vulcan attire,” Spock answered. Which was probably a jab at Leonard for complaining about wearing them the last time they took a stop on New Vulcan, and Leonard had to wrangle himself into them for some ceremony that Spock refused to translate.
Leonard nearly rolled his eyes. “It’s a bit empty, though,” he said instead, gesturing to the empty saloon. The piano played by itself in the corner, with a ghost playing a jaunty 18th century era jingle on the keys.
Spock said, “You had the opportunity to request some of the crew to join you for the program.”
“No way,” Leonard scowled. “This is date night. Just for the two of us. Jim would show up in those assless chaps, and that’d ruin all my fun.”
“You are one of the few who do not vocally appreciate the Captain’s exposed posterior when presented,” Spock commented.
Leonard considered smacking him, but Spock was a brat, and God help him if he didn’t find that adorable instead of irritating. He was sure Spock felt the same about his many strange grumpy Human idiosyncrasies. “And I’m sure it’s very logical that you appreciate the view?”
“I would not say appreciation is the correct term,” Spock replied. “Perhaps an appraisal would be more appropriate.”
Leonard countered, “Admiration.”
“Those are your words, Doctor, not mine.”
“Can you just say you enjoy ogling Jim’s ass like the rest of the horny bastards on this ship?”
“I find it curious that you don’t include yourself in that summary. Is Captain Kirk not considered attractive by Human standards?”
“Hey now,” Leonard waved his arms, and yanked off his hat as it served a hindrance to his gesture. “I don’t want to think about Jim or any of the terrible STD’s he’s no doubtedly earning while gallivanting around the starbase…” He plopped it down on the bar beside him.
Spock removed his hat as well and his lips twitched. “Strange. Yet it was you who ‘brought up’ Jim in the first place, was it not?”
Leonard huffed and pulled himself upright, but he recalled his primary goal and dropped it. Sometimes the best way to change gears in a conversation was to pretend you hadn’t heard it. It wasn’t a subtle tactic, but it would get the job done.
Leonard leaned over the bar. “You know what’s special about today, Spock?”
“One can only assume that question is intended as rhetorical,” Spock replied. “As it is not, to my knowledge, an anniversary related to our romantic relationship, nor a celebration of birth.”
Smart ass. “Today’s the day I’m gonna teach you the most important lesson you’ll ever learn in your long, Vulcan life.” Leonard dropped the glasses on the bar beside Spock, who raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
For all of Leonard’s enthusiasm, he received a second eyebrow. Spock started, “I doubt that—”
“Shuddup, Spock. Today you’re learning how to make a mint julep.”
Spock sighed. He would deny it, of course, because sighing included some sort of expression of emotion, but the slump of his shoulders and the way he breathed out his nose was Spock’s version of a sigh. “Vulcans do not consume—”
“Hand me that glass, wouldya?”
“Leonard,” Spock continued patiently, “I must remind you that Vulcans do not experience intoxication from Human alcohol.” Leonard hummed to indicate he had heard, but otherwise ignored Spock’s reminder.
“This is an experience that will serve you well,” he told Spock. “And I better not hear any snide remarks. This recipe’s been in the McCoy family for generations. It’s a cultural landmark. And extremely necessary for you to learn,” Leonard added at Spock’s increasingly arched eyebrow, “especially if you ever feel like dropping down in Georgia…”
Spock made a soft noise of assent. “I assume this is your official inquiry to, as you would say, ‘meet the family?’” Then he had the audacity to blink innocently at Leonard while Leonard gaped at him.
“Stop changing the subject,” Leonard said, when he found his words again. “Mint julep lesson first.” Thankfully, Spock seemed too distracted by the sudden arrival of the rest of ingredients Leonard had gathered, along with the jigger and a cocktail shaker.
He pushed the bowl of mints towards Spock and gestured with his chin for the glass. “Take a pinch and drop ‘em in the shaker. Then pour out a half of the simple syrup…”
Despite Spock’s reservations, he listened aptly and with his entire concentration, nodding along as Leonard rambled about how his momma used to make mint juleps—though when he was a kid they obviously skipped the bourbon. His favorite part used to be the muddling, though Spock didn’t seem as into that.
“Should’ve told you to strip off that long sleeved tunic and vest,” Leonard commented. “Then I could’ve had myself a show while I watched you work.” Spock, who was barely exerting himself as he muddled the mint and sugar, rolled his eyes briefly upward. Leonard grinned with his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth.
When Spock spilled a bit of the whiskey on the side of his hand, he jerked as Leonard reached down to lick it off. “Leonard,” he chided.
“What?” Leonard asked cheekily. “The holodeck’s reserved for just the two of us, sweetheart. And don’t pretend like your mathematically perfect control over your limbs means that was an accident.” Spock put the glass of bourbon back down and informed Leonard he was ready for the next step, avoiding confirming or denying that accusation.
When Spock was finished pouring the ice into the shaker switching them into the tall glasses, he had two perfectly made mint juleps sitting on the counter and collecting condensation.
Spock eyed his creations, then glanced around at the bar setting around them. “I don’t believe it was practical—or possible—in this era to possess fresh ice on hand.”
Sighing, Leonard pulled the glass closest to him and took a long sip. “You made it just right, darlin’.”
He got another eyebrow for that. “I appreciate the compliment, however, as I have said before, I am perfectly capable of following a recipe.”
Leonard raised his own brow. “In my experience you’ve got a thing against following instructions—or orders, especially from me.” Spock also declined to offer comment, because he was an adorably bratty Vulcan on his best days, and even more so now as he stuck out like a stiff sore thumb in this historical re-enactment of the wild, wild American west.
Leonard reached down below the counter and withdrew his last surprise. It took a little bribery from Scotty to get his hands on a portable mug warmer, which kept the contents inside at a comfortably warm temperature for his favorite picky cold-blooded Vulcan.
Spock’s eyes softened at the corners as he reached for the mug of warm Vulcan spice tea Leonard offered him. He didn’t have to speak, and as their fingers brushed he felt the warm affection emanating off Spock’s skin. Leonard said gruffly, “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”