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Leonard hadn’t put his feet on the red sands of Vulcan since the dreadful day he thought he’d lose both of his best friends.
Now, with the threat of death far, far away, the planet seems different. He has little to none difficulty breathing, the color of the sand looks muted, painted with shades of burnt sienna instead of the deep, blood red his eyes had picked up during Spock’s failed wedding, and the air, apart from being less thick, is filled with melodic birdsong.
As Leonard, Spock and Scotty, squeezed together on the back of a cab, make their way from the Vulcan Science Academy to Spock’s family home on the outskirts of ShiKahr, the doctor can’t help but imagine how things would be now if he hadn’t intervened, if he hadn’t sabotaged the kal-if-fee to save Jim’s life and thus Spock’s.
For one, Spock and Jim wouldn’t have gotten the chance to learn of their deep affection for each other, and wouldn’t have taken their relationship a step -or several- further. So that was Leonard’s fault. No, not fault, he rectifies as he feels something in his chest twist, it was thanks to him.
Spock and Jim… They make sense. He doesn’t. Yet, the intrusive thought that if one of them had died during the fight would’ve made Leonard happier in any way is untrue, cruel and immensely upsetting.
Leonard shakes his head to banish those thoughts -he refuses to fall in a spiral of grief right now- and looks outside the window. The view, though monotonous, relaxes him a bit, brings him back to the real world, in which Scotty and Spock, right beside him, talk animatedly about the conference they just attended.
It was a science and technology focused conference, so it made sense that the three of them were chosen to beam down while the Enterprise returned to Earth for a brief shore leave. Still, when Leonard was told that Jim wouldn’t be coming with them, he found it strange. Jim and Spock barely left each other’s side anymore…
They never have, actually. And they never will.
And here it is again! The same tedious, distressing thought he just pushed away. Back again to twist the knife.
Thankfully, the cab stops abruptly and so does Leonard's daydream -or ‘daynightmare’, more like.
Spock and Scotty get off the cab before Leonard does, but they wait for him to join them before they cross the threshold into Sarek and Amanda’s elegant, sand-colored -and yes, as huge as Leonard had imagined it when he learned Spock was an ambassador’s son- house.
Nor Sarek nor Amanda are around, so Spock undertakes two roles: guest and host. He takes Leonard and Scotty on a tour, showing them the seemingly infinite gardens, the spacious and inviting living room, and the spare bedroom in which they will be sleeping. There’s only a bed there, but Leonard doesn’t mind sleeping on the same bed as Scotty, especially if it’s king sized. Surely, if Jim was here instead of Scotty, he’d be sleeping alone in it, and somehow the thought that he’ll get to share the bed with the engineer instead comforts him.
After a lavish supper, Spock shows them the door to his room in case Scotty or Leonard might need something later, and he says good night. Soon after, Leonard and Scotty, too tired to keep a conversation going, to read or to play that card game the Scot hasn’t lost a single time -which Leonard’s starting to suspect might be because he’s cheating-, they both get under the covers, Scotty on the right side of the mattress, Leonard on the left one, and they order the lights to die away.
Before parting, Spock assured them that the nights were cold on Vulcan, so Leonard, the person most sensitive to cold in the universe -not that he has checked, it just feels accurate- is glad that atop of the silky sheets there’s a thick comforter. He snuggles under it, feeling instantly warm and, as the name of the cover promises, comfortable.
Turning away from the already-snoring Scotty, Leonard curls his legs, inhales the musky scent of the pillow under his head and closes his eyes. Surrounded by pleasantness and with the worrying thoughts from before nowhere to be seen, he slowly drifts off.
*****************
Leonard turns and feels his foot hit something. Someone.
He opens his eyes. The guest room appears before him, illuminated by the dim light of T'Khut's moon. Leonard sits up, confused as one does when he wakes up in the middle of the night, and he realizes the bed is smaller, somehow, barely bigger than twin size. Still, he’s sharing it. With Spock.
Spock is sleeping soundly. The kick and Leonard’s movements not only didn’t wake him, but they didn’t even make his breath hitch momentarily, or a single muscle move. So much for the spectacular, incredible, unmatched, extremely extraordinary Vulcan sensitivity and hearing…
Still, Leonard’s glad that he continues sleeping. That allows him to stare at his handsome sharp features openly for a while. He looks peaceful, very different from the antagonizing -or is it teasing?- man he has come to love.
But all he can do is look, and reach out to him with yearning fingertips only to leave them hovering over the pale, textured skin of Spock’s cheekbones, wishing he had permission to brush them. Does Jim caress him softly? Does Spock hum contently when he does? Does he lean on Jim’s hand like a cat would?
A chill runs through Leonard’s spine. He hopes it’s just because of the cold that’s creeping into his bones now that his chest isn’t under the comforter. He really should go back to sleep, he thinks. He takes a final glance at Spock and rubs his eyes with force.
When he uncovers them, ready to warm up and get some more sleep, his heart almost jumps out of his body via his widely open mouth.
Jim’s right before him, his body mostly hidden in the darkness, staring directly at Leonard with a sad smile.
“Jim?” Leonard whispers with a hand over his heart, trying to monitor whether it’ll slow down or put him into cardiac arrest.
“Hey, Bones,” Jim says.
Leonard takes a moment to read him. Jim doesn’t show signs of anger at the fact that Leonard was pretty much eating his boyfriend with his eyes seconds ago; he actually looks vulnerable. His arms are wrapped around his own chest as if he’s cold and, under the pale moonlight, his eyes glint with… Longing?
“Sorry,” Leonard says, the first word that his brain can provide.
And before he knows it, he’s out of bed, standing in the cold, looking at Jim with an apology and an invitation. Jim accepts them. He circles the bed and sits on the mattress right where Leonard was; it’s probably still warm from his body, the doctor thinks. Good. Jim deserves warmth. If he could, he’d give it to him himself, by hugging him for a while to make sure the cold dissipates from his soft skin, kissing his temple every once in a while to check that the temperature goes up -but he can’t, of course. The comforter will do a better job than his bony body ever could, anyways.
Before lying down, Jim awards Leonard with one of his warm smiles, those that reach his eyes and surround them with beautiful wrinkles. Then, he lies on his left side, looking in Spock’s direction and pulls the covers up to his neck. Leonard doesn’t look away from the scene until he sees Jim’s arm move under the covers to pull Spock closer to him, chest and back flush, fitting every curve and straight line from the other like two joint puzzle pieces.
A sharp pang of jealousy makes Leonard wince.
Before he can look into it deeper, he walks away from the bed and grabs what seems like a shower towel from a shelf. Forcing his eyes to stay on the floor, he circles the bed to where Jim was standing and he lays the towel down on the wooden planks. It’s big enough to separate his whole body from the cold surface.
As he lies down, he feels another stab of pain, origin unknown. Everything hurts. His skin’s uncomfortably cold, his bones feel heavy, his chest is tight, and his eyes are watery -either from tiredness or from sorrow, and he doesn’t want to guess. He curls into a ball and pulls up the far end of the towel to cover himself. Evidently, half a towel folded over his legs doesn’t keep the cold out, so Leonard simply accepts his destiny.
There, from the foot of the bed, through his chattering teeth, Leonard can hear Jim’s and Spock’s synchronized breaths, deep and paused. Why did he ever leave the warmth of the bed? It’s cold here. It’s so cold.
It’s too cold.
*****************
Why is it so cold?
Leonard awakens to find his entire upper body uncovered, at the mercy of Vulcan’s cruel nights. He pulls at the comforter, but it doesn’t move an inch.
He turns around. Scotty, far from him at the other edge of the huge mattress, is clutching the covers like his life depends on it. Leonard’s chest is warmed up only by his sleeping shirt and the thin silk sheet. He feels as if wrapped in fine, fragile cellophane paper.
As his sleepiness slowly fades, Leonard gets a sense of déjà vu. He remembers the dream -the nightmare. The small bed, Spock calmly sleeping, Jim alone in a corner, his own fragile body lying on the floor as a sacrifice so the others get the comfort and company they deserve.
Leonard chuckles at his own misery, then stops when he feels his laughter turn dangerously close to sobs.
Dammit, it’s cold. He crosses his arms over the chest in the hopes to warm up. But is his cold even physical? It must be, he knows it is, yet… After that dream, Leonard’s unsure if the biggest pile of comforters topped by the fluffiest wool blanket could warm him.
Perhaps he could wake Spock up, ask him for more layers anyways. He knows where his room is. Or shake Scotty and risk getting shouted at, which wouldn’t be too bad if it meant he’d get his half of the comforter back.
Bad choices, both of them. Probably logical ones, as Spock would point out, but inconsiderate to his friends. And if Leonard despises something, it’s being inconsiderate. To Joanna, to his patients, to Christine, to Scotty, and to Jim and Spock and the life they’re building together.
Inserting himself in the lives of others, unwanted, whether it be to wake them up in the middle of the night for selfish reasons or to ask for something more than friendship in the hopes his deep loneliness goes away is, to put it simply, inconsiderate. He refuses to become a nuisance. What if he’s cold? So are a lot of people. He can take it. He can get joy from Scotty being cozy next to him.
And, if he tries hard enough, he can get joy from Spock and Jim being together. The captain and his right hand man, the sun and the moon, heart and logic. Not only do they fit together perfectly, but they also make each other better, as the numerous times they’ve saved one another demonstrate. Jim looks at Spock like he’s hung the moon, the stars and every other celestial body. Spock smiles at Jim with a softness that would be cause for concern on his home planet of Vulcan.
What could Leonard even offer them? Love? That isn’t enough -and they have it already, unconditionally. No, he’d only give them headaches and disappointment and more reasons to be soulmates alone, to push him out of the equation. He chastises Jim too often. He ridicules Spock too much. If that’s what he can offer, he better pack up and leave -metaphorically, of course; he’ll always stay by their side, taking care of them as he has since they met, just… Standing on the sidelines.
His thoughts from the earlier cab ride return to him. Spock and Jim… They make sense. He doesn’t. And that’s all right. It’s fair.
As fair as being cold for one night. It’s just one night, after all.
Isn’t it?