Work Text:
“Sometimes, silence is the loudest cry of a broken soul.”
****
He started the morning feeling a little foolish and vulnerable. It had happened, there was no turning back. The memories of the night before were not a blur. They were sharp, distinct, exciting and tremendously pleasurable. So pleasurable and lustful that it hurt his soul, and his cock; to think that they had been only a simple horny teenagers in heat testing their fiery, brand new sexuality. He shouldn't think that, but he did. The thought hammered in his head like a laser scalpel slicing open a wounded body.
The doctor took one of his hyposprays and, with a quick and precise gesture, the result of years of uninterrupted practice, self-administered a dose. The soft sound that marked the entry of the drug into his bloodstream was soon lost within the walls of the office, eclipsed by a low growl and two curses that echoed louder, delivered in his strong southern accent. His back protested with an insistent twinge. He was not the youngster he once was, but his body was still more than able to withstand the long hours of surgery that used to take place in his Sickbay.
With a sigh, he stretched his arms back and pressed his lower back, seeking relief. The movement became a slow, almost feline stretch as he released the air with a certain resigned pleasure. Those two would end his health sooner than expected, of that he was sure. Who would have imagined that a Vulcan with an imperturbable face could be so passionate between the sheets? Spock, with his unwavering calm, seemed to possess infinite energy when it came to giving pleasure. Even Jim, the star-crossed lover of the galaxy, sometimes had to struggle to keep up with him.
McCoy rose from his seat with a slight snort of relief, feeling the painkiller begin to take effect in his tired body. The morning had been exhausting, filled with relentless work and, as usual, he had prioritized the needs of his patients over his own.
Now, with the scans, cures and treatments finally completed, he allowed himself a moment to take care of himself. “Doctor, heal thyself,” the old adage went, and it had never seemed more apt than in that instant.
The door to his office opened with a soft buzz, revealing the tall, elegant figure of the first officer. Surprise caused the empty hypospray to slip from his hand, hitting the floor with a small click. Spock, always precise, bent down with the same grace with which he did everything and picked up the object, raising an eyebrow as he looked at it with that expression that mixed curiosity and quiet reproach.
“Good morning, Dr. McCoy.”
Spock's voice, serene but deep, filled the space.
Leonard narrowed his blue eyes, letting out a snort that failed to completely hide his discomfort. “Now I'm back to being Dr. McCoy to you?” He thought. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks, tinging them with a hue that gave away what he was trying to hide. For the previous night he had been 'Leonard' to this spiky bastard. He lowered his gaze and deliberately concentrated on his PADD, as if it suddenly contained something of vital importance.
“I have always addressed you as Dr. McCoy. I consider that the correct way to refer to the Enterprise's medical director” Spock replied with his trained serenity, placing his hands behind his back in his characteristic posture.
McCoy rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh before pointing to the chair in front of him. "Sit down, please!" he muttered with a hint of resignation, trying to make his voice sound as professional as the situation called for.
“What's the matter with you?” he asked, folding his arms as he tried to keep his tone to maintain a formality he didn't quite feel.
Spock seemed to have returned to that inscrutable state that sometimes frustrated Leonard, but at the same time intrigued him. His dark eyes, warm despite their apparent coldness, fixed on him with an intensity that made the doctor almost stir in his seat. “I came to see you this morning,” he finally said. “Last night you left the captain's quarters to return to yours for the rest of the night.”
“A man needs rest to work the next day,” McCoy grumbled, in that protesting tone he usually employed to defend the obvious.
“Indeed. It is a logical act,” Spock replied serenely. “On the other hand, the reason for my visit is to exchange certain crucial information with you.”
Leonard put a hand to his head, scratching in disbelief as he looked at him. Spock, as always, looked impeccable. His back remained perfectly straight, leaning comfortably against the back of the chair. His hands, now clasped, rested in his lap with such a natural placidity that the doctor was reminded of formal Enterprise meetings.
“How does your back feel?” Spock continued, his tone neutral and analytical. “Yesterday, during our sexual encounter, you commented, and I quote, that you were 'feeling a little rusty' since some time had elapsed since your last amatory experience. I remind you that you mentioned several times discomfort in that specific part of your anatomy.”
McCoy opened his mouth in disbelief, not knowing whether to laugh, scream or throw him out of the office. He closed his eyes with an exasperated sigh and shook his head, as he felt a small bead of sweat threaten to slide down his forehead. He slid his hand quickly to wipe it away, trying not to think too much about the color that had surely stained his cheeks. “I can't believe it...!” he muttered, dodging the gaze of those dark eyes that, though quiet, seemed to be silently amused.
“I feel fine, Spock. Thank you for your concern” McCoy replied in a tone that tried to sound nonchalant. He rose from his chair, letting the faint crunch of his boots on the floor break the silence, and walked with purposeful steps to the auxiliary cabinet where he kept several medical samples.
“Is that all?” he asked, turning to Spock as he rested a hand on the edge of the cabinet.
“I also wanted to know if our relations had been pleasant for you.” His voice, somewhat deeper than usual, had a soft, almost sweet undertone that almost succeeded in disarming the doctor's defenses. His response, however, was sarcastic: “Do you need me to rate on a scale of 0 to 10 how we fucked yesterday?“ McCoy raised his tone of voice in acrimony.
“You can be irritatingly nasty, Dr. McCoy.”
“It's part of my personal charm!”
The Vulcan barely shook his head, lowering his gaze for a brief moment before answering him again. “I was concerned about your well-being “ he confessed with unexpected warmth.
McCoy blinked, surprised not so much by the words, but by the vulnerability he detected in them, a fragility uncommon in Spock. He immediately regretted his verbal outburst. He had before him a man he loved as intensely as Jim; in a different but no lesser way. He had to restrain himself from approaching the Vulcan and cradling him in his arms. He will have to learn to to bite his tongue with his most beloved Vulcan, even if it meant changing his personality from top to bottom. Of that, he was sure. It was not the right way to give love to anyone.
The night before, the three of them, Jim, Spock and he, had shared something that went far beyond friendship. They had crossed a boundary that had long since blurred, consummating a desire that had grown quietly between them for months, perhaps years.
The previous weeks seemed to have conspired to bring them to that moment. Circumstances, looks and unspoken words of old,had pushed them to a crossroads that, far from frightening them, offered the promise of something deeper. However, that “something” was as yet unnamed and undefined. It was new, uncertain, but it pulsed with an intensity that McCoy could feel even now, as he looked at the man before him.
A soft hissing sound marked the opening of the door, announcing a new presence. James Kirk, brimming with energy and vitality, entered the office with a smile so bright it seemed capable of lighting up even the darkest corner.
McCoy looked up and, for an instant, froze. He couldn't remember ever seeing Jim so elated.... Well, maybe once, when over a video call he had told him that he had been promoted to Captain of the Enterprise. That same expression of pure happiness was now on his face, and seeing it caused a concern in Leonard that he couldn't quite explain.
“My two favorite men!” Kirk exclaimed excitedly, reaching over to gently stroke McCoy's arm as he cast an adoration-laden glance toward Spock.
Leonard felt the heat rise to his cheeks. It was one thing to be Jim's close friend, quite another to have shared with him and Spock a night that still had him trembling with emotion. Kirk had been... Kirk, in all the splendor of his personality: vigorous, passionate and, at the same time, surprisingly affectionate.
McCoy still wasn't sure who was really to blame for the discomfort in his back: had it been Jim with his endless repertoire of ingenious posturing or Spock with his strength and, well, endowment? What bothered him most, however, was not the physical fatigue, but the moment when, in the midst of intimacy, that idiot Jim Kirk had confessed to them how much he loved them, both of them, and for how long.
Too many emotions, too many feelings to process all at once. In the end, Leonard, that old country doctor who had sworn not to complicate himself with sentimental nonsense, had shed a few tears when it was all over. The three of them rested tangled in a jumble of legs and arms on Jim's mattress, and in that warm, messy chaos, McCoy felt for a brief moment as if he had actually found a home.
The surgeon, unable to control his own hidden fears and longings, let the tears run down his face without hiding them. That and his damn back pain made him feel too vulnerable or too old in front of his two new lovers. It was simply too much for him.
With a heavy heart, he decided to leave his friends alone in an attempt to get a few hours of peaceful sleep. It was not an easy decision, and the reactions of the other two men left him more uneasy than he wanted to admit, as he said goodbye to them to leave the room. Jim, with slumped shoulders and a look that seemed pleading, looked forlorn. Spock, for his part, had let his human half plunge him into a rare uncertainty. Doubt was evident in his dark eyes, even if he tried to hide it behind a facade of calm.
“Are you going to stand there staring at me like two holy martyrs waiting for me to confess my sins or do you have something useful to say?” he growled acrimoniously, without looking up.
Kirk let out a soft, calculated laugh, though his eyes were still riveted on him with that mixture of affection and concern that McCoy found hard to bear at the moment.
“....Bones, last night...” Jim began.
“No!” McCoy interupted, raising a hand sharply. Don't start with that. Last night was...was what it was. And I'm not going to pretend that everything's okay just because you two decided to play affectionate with me!"
“Leonard...” Spock interjected from the back of the office.
“Don't call me that!” McCoy raised his voice. He was being contradictory to himself, he well knew. He longed for the Vulcan to call him that, all the time. His blue eyes were glittering with a mixture of frustration and weariness. “Don't call me that when you don't even know what you want from me. Because I know, Spock. You and Jim have something. Something I'm never going to be able to break or match. And I don't want to be the poor sap who stands in the corner while you two look at each other like the rest of the universe doesn't exist!”
Jim took a step forward. He could not disguise his pained expression. He raised a hand and carefully placed it on McCoy's shoulder. The doctor made a feeble attempt to pull away, but Jim didn't move.
“Bones...” Jim whispered, letting his thumb gently caress the doctor's collarbone. “Don't say that. You're not an add-on, you're not a bystander. You're a part of this, as important a part as any of us.”
Spock moved closer as well, until he was standing beside him. With extreme gentleness, his fingers brushed McCoy's wrist, almost in a gesture of silent supplication.
“Leonard, your importance to this relationship is unquestionable. Jim and I wouldn't be here if we didn't firmly believe that you are essential.”
McCoy let out a bitter laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly.
“Essential...of course. Until it's no longer convenient. Until either of you two realize I don't need to be here. Because I'm not like you two. I'm not a Starfleet hero or a brilliant science officer. I'm just a tired guy who already has too many scars on his soul.”
Jim did not respond with words. Instead, he enveloped him in a firm embrace, as McCoy tried to pull away from the Captain, moving abruptly. The younger man used his strong arms to hold the elusive surgeon, squeezing him with a warmth that McCoy could not ignore. At first, the doctor remained rigid, but gradually his body began to relax. Spock, with uncommon gentleness, placed a hand on the back of McCoy's neck. His fingers reached out in a comforting gesture, typical of Vulcan tactile magic.
“Leonard... “Spock whispered. “Do you really think we would let this fall apart? That we would let someone so important to us feel this way?”
“What if they do?” McCoy murmured for the first time allowing his tone to mellow. “What if one day they wake up and realize that this...this isn't working, that I'm just dead weight they're dragging around because they're too noble to say it out loud?”
Jim shook his head, tear-filled eyes on the verge of falling.
“Bones, never! We would never think something like that. You know why? Because you're what keeps us together. You're the voice of reason when Spock and I lose our way. You're the calm in the middle of the storm.”
Spock nodded slowly. Now he was the one embracing and holding the insecure doctor. The older man felt his lower abdomen react to the contact with the first officer's body. He had taken hold of him, as if with his tremendous strength he was trying to keep Leonard from escaping the place.
“There is no logic in your fears. But I understand that emotions are seldom logical. However, I assure you that I love you to the best of my ability.”
Jim bowed his head and pressed a soft kiss to McCoy's forehead as Spock brushed his cheek with his fingers.
“Please, Bones....” Jim almost begged him...... “Let us love you the way you deserve.”
McCoy closed his eyes, his breathing hitched. For an instant, he let those gestures envelop him, let the warmth of his lovers seep through his painstakingly erected walls.
“I need time” The doctor's voice broke and he groaned loudly. “I'm not promising anything. I don't know if I can...if I can give you what you deserve.”
“What we deserve.... “Jim shot back, bringing his lips to his lover's ”is exactly what you already give us.”
McCoy felt a hot, wet shiver run down his back, giving him an immediate and rapid onset of erection. He was unable to keep his body from reacting to the physical contact with his two companions.
Spock tilted his head, brushing his lips against McCoy's temple.
“Time is a resource that belongs to us, Leonard. There's no hurry.”
Jim hugged him again, tighter this time, as Spock held his hand between his own. For a moment, the three of them remained that way, entwined in a delicate balance of fragility and affection.
When Jim and Spock finally withdrew, McCoy was left alone in his office. He stared at the closed door for a long moment before letting out a shaky sigh.
“Damn...” he muttered, resting a hand on his chest, where something warm and sweetly sticky seemed to have settled. “Maybe... maybe this could work.”
This time, his words carried more hope than doubt.
When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the warmth of their hugs, the soft kisses on their skins, and the words full of tenderness.
For now, that small, big comfort would have to be enough.