Chapter Text
The best way to predict the future is to create it
(Peter Drucker).
McCOY sat alone on the balcony outside his room, gazing at the stars sparking the sky above Risa. Pausing with the shot glass in hand, he contemplated how three men who had been together nearly every moment of a typical day and night aboard a starship somehow managed to also take their vacation together. It wascounterintuitive —weren’t vacations supposed to provide distance, space from the routine world?
“We are the merest poor outsiders — we have no family — except ourself!” He thought.
He laughed softly, shaking his head. Maybe they just kept choosing each other’s company, because no one else really got them in that particular wayor frustrated and thrilled them quite so much. As anger mounted, McCoy couldn’t deny that he felt comfortable in their presence. Though he could never confess it, he could still, in this combined web of their lives, a place where all were visible to him, admit he’d rather be here than any other place in the galaxy.
He sipped again and smiled wryly. Perhaps that’s why they kept finding their way back to each other: Because fundamentally, none of them wantedto be apart.
**********
The sun rose warmly and brightly on the planet and golden shadows shimmered upon the turquoise resort waters. Leonard McCoy sat beneath an oversized, brightly colored umbrella, sipping a drink that was (in his opinion) too sweet but somehow completely soothing, and relaxed. He languidly observed James Kirk in the distance, a mere couple of feet, conversing excitedly with a pretty young girl whose laughter chimed like wind.
"He never quits, does he?" McCoy grumbled to himself, shaking his head with a tired smirk.
“There cannot, for it seems the captain has got a mate,” added slowly a cool and well-modulated voice behind us.
At that, McCoy turned his head and noticed Spock by the far side of the lounging area, still very tense. His hands were loosely clasped behind his back, his features as unreadable as ever, but there was something — a mere tightening around his eye — that said more to McCoy than any words ever would.
“Guess he’s got a date tonight,” McCoy commented, looking at Spock from the corner of his eye and drinking his beer.
Spock shook his head infinitesimally, a gesture McCoy knew well—Spock's equivalent of a shrug. "It would seem so."
Jim got close to the woman, moving a strand of hair out of her face." Smiling flirtatiously. The woman tittered, touching his arm, and looked at him with bright interest. There was nothing more to be said; Jim gave her his arm and led her off to his room.
McCoy saw the tiny flicker of discomfort in Spock's eyes, a small chink in the solid veneer of courtesy. While the Vulcan said nothing, his shoulders were subtly more tightly drawn and his eyes lingered just a fraction too long as Jim's back receded from view.
"You alright there, Spock?"
"That what you're askin' me, doctor?"
McCoy inquired softly, laying his glass down on the end table.
Spock added his gaze to McCoy, having now become unreadable. “And why would I not?”
McCoy chuckled softly. "Oh, come on, Spock. You can fool the rest of us with that Vulcan poker face, but not me. I've known you too long."
Spock cocked an eyebrow, such a familiar gesture that McCoy felt a smile pulling at his lips. “Doctor, oh trust me - my mental condition is very wholesome!!.”
“Stable doesn't mean they're not there,” McCoy shot back as he stood up. He stepped nearer to Spock, his eyes hard but not cruel. “Look, we know, Jim’s a charmer. Has been and always will be. But he’s not much of a settle down type.”
"Your point, Doctor?" Spock's voice was even, but his eyes were pinpoints.
"Just making an observation." McCoy stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “You’re too bright to become embroiled in all that.”
Spock turned to give McCoy an intense staring. “Then why are you just now making such a statement, Mr. Prosecutor?"
McCoy didn’t know how to respond; he realized he was treading into an area he hadn’t really intended to explore. “Just watching out for a buddy.”
Spock tipped his head as he focused on McCoy. "Your concern is... curious."
"Curious?" McCoy laughed, a little too nervously. "Well, maybe it is. Maybe I’m just a conversationalist.”
"Intelligible conversation, Doctor," Spock corrected with a quiet but certain voice.
‘What was that?‘ McCoy groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, fine. Perhaps it is none of my business. Forget I said anything."
Spock's stance stiffened even more. You are the one who intitiated this conversation, Doctor. Do you want now to cast it off?"
"Just trying to stay out of everybody's way here," McCoy grunted, peeved for some reason that he couldn't step on Spock's face.
"Indeed." There was an edginess to Spock's tone that was highly unusual. “Maybe you should stop making cryptic statements about things you don't totally understand.
McCoy realized his chest flared with a spark of defensiveness. "Oh, I understand plenty, Spock. I've seen that look in your eyes when Jim is near. That’s just there, deny it all you like, but it’s there."
There was an instant in which Spock's eyes flashed, his unspoken emotion revealed in that instant. "You presume much, Doctor."
"And you confess to nothing," McCoy countered lowly, irritation brewing in the undertones.
Spock's eyes had sharpened yet again. "You do not consider that of significance?"
"Irrelevant?" McCoy echoed incredulously. “Dammit, Spock, it is not. You sit there and not give a dime to their doing while he’s way with another.”
"What I do with myself is none of your business," Spock answered coldly.
“Probably not,” McCoy admitted grudgingly as he prepared the hypospray, “but watching you be miserable silently sure as hell is.”
Spock looked at him, unreadable eyes dark. “You’re borrowing trouble where there is none. Vulcans are not party to such emotional frailty.”
"Right," McCoy scoffed. “Because denying you feel anything is so damn healthy.”
"And openly talking about your every passing feeling is better? "You mean to be rude," Spock snapped.
“At least it’s straightforward,” McCoy challenged, moving closer, realising abruptly that they were close to the brink of something neither of them had come here for.
"Honesty is not spoken," Spock threw back, his stance stiff, arms now crossing his chest with a marked defensiveness.
McCoy sighed, experiencing a sudden, odd wave of sympathy for the Vulcan. "Spock, I've seen what this keeping back does to people. Missed opportunities, regrets."
"And I am talking from within." Spock broke in, eyes flashing.
McCoy looked surprised at the blunt question - just for an instant. "Maybe I am."
"Perhaps you should take your advice then," Spock replied icily.
"Perhaps I already did," McCoy conceded softly, mildly surprised at his own candour.
They remained as they were for long moments until the thickening tension between them was cut by the sound of Spock's voice, softer this time. “Doctor, why you telling me this?”
McCoy gulped, not really sure what to say or do. "Because... maybe I’m seeing something of myself in you. Flabby watching by the side too scared to take a ride.
Spock was silent, eyes fixed intently on McCoy. The doctor’s heart beat faster, strangely feeling himself at a disadvantage under the scrutiny.
"Interesting," Spock said finally, in an almost inaudible voice.
McCoy found himself blushing and then abruptly uncomfortable. "Well, don’t read too much into it. I’m just trying to be a friend.”
“Yes,” Spock replied quietly, slumping down. "Thank you for the... friendship."
McCoy sighed in relief, the tenseness easing just a little. "Good. Because it’s not easy watching you tie yourself into knots over Jim.”
“Nor indeed, I believe,” Spock said thoughtfully, “is it simple for you.”
McCoy looked up and the two shared a moment of recognition. "No. It isn't."
It was a quiet place to be together even though it was deceitful despite the repressed emotions. Then suddenly something had changed between them, a small but unmistakable shift.
Spock tilted his head slightly and his voice was even. "I’ll have to think about it some more."
"Perhaps," McCoy cautiously agreed and his heart hammered. “But right now, maybe we just … leave it alone.”
"Agreed," It was a barely perceptible warmth in his eyes Spock said quietly.
McCoy smiled slightly, and he felt an odd sense of relief. “Good, we’ve established that.”
“Precisely, Doctor,” Spock answered in a low voice. "More than you realize."