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“Leonard.”
Spock tilted his head, considered, and then pressed his lips together tightly.
“Leonarrrd,” he tried, drawing the ‘r’ out.
He stared.
His reflection stared back.
“Leonnnard.”
Spock barely refrained from sighing.
“Hello, Leonard.”
“Good morning, Leonard.”
“Leonard.”
“Leonard, good evening.”
“Goodbye, Leonard.”
“Leonard, I will see you soon.”
In a way that he couldn’t put his finger on, the pronunciation wasn’t quite right. Perhaps the error was within his posture? He attempted to loosen his shoulders, widened his stance.
This time, he let his lips curl up at the corners just slightly—lowered his head so he could look up at his reflection through his eyelashes. “Indeed, Leonard.”
Spock watched himself flush a bit, flustered at his pretend act of flirtation. He cleared his throat and straightened his back, turning away from the mirror. That was enough preparation for the day. He had paperwork to attend to.
And yet, he found that after he’d settled at his desk—all he could think of was the conversation that he’d had with the doct—Leonard—earlier that day.
It had been a day and a debate like any other, sitting in the mess hall for lunch as they argued over the merits of traditional higher education.
“You have gone through traditional higher education yourself, Doctor,” Spock had pointed out.
The doctor paused, not immediately responding as usual. His mouth was patiently holding his spoon from his soup, but the man himself was simply watching Spock.
“Doctor?”
He took the spoon out of his mouth at the prod and carefully returned it to his bowl before facing Spock again. “You know… Spock, we’ve known each other for a few years, right?”
“Indeed. It’s been roughly two years and eight months since you joined our mission,” Spock replied automatically. He had no idea where the doctor was going with this, but if he was being honest, he was more preoccupied with their discussion on the benefits of traditional higher education and McCoy’s radiant eyes on him.
The doctor nodded, and adopted his faux-thoughtful expression, bringing his spoon back up to point it at Spock. “Well, my reasoning is that if we’ve known each other going on three years, now, you might as well start calling me Leonard. If you’d like.” Then, with a roll of his eyes, he added, “Off-duty, of course, wouldn’t want to upset your professionalism.”
Spock stared at him, and then nodded. “Of course,” he said, trying to ignore whatever was upsetting his stomach, “…Leonard.”
To his horror, Spock found his voice cracking mid-word, and he was standing up before the name settled in the air. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to before my shift continues.” He grabbed his tray and nodded at him.
“Goodbye, Mr. Spock,” the captain said dryly.
He blinked at him. Somehow, he’d forgotten he was a part of their conversation, but he nodded his goodbye to him as well. “Captain.”
Spock willed away his shame, turning back to the form he had to look over before signing. Hopefully, his practice would come in handy the next time he saw the doctor again. He considered the conversation for a moment, skipping past the awkward moments. The doctor had only said to refer to him as his first name when they were off duty.
That solved his problem, he decided. He would only see the doctor on-duty, and would stay away from him at all costs while off of it.
Spock finished applying his makeup, and returned his case to its rightful spot. He normally finished his morning routine by looking over his uniform and hair one more time in the mirror to make sure his appearance was adequately appropriate.
He looked at himself. He was presentable for duty. Now, he was supposed to return to his living area, acquire the PADDs he’d need for his shift, and then leave.
However, he found himself pausing.
Spock looked at himself again.
“Leonard.”
His reflection’s lips turned down at the corners.
Spock’s careful avoidance of the doctor only lasted for three days. They were, of course, senior officers and had had to glimpse each other due to their positions on the ship, but that hadn’t proven to be much of an issue. What had turned out to be an issue—or rather, who—was none other than their mutual friend.
“You know, Mr. Spock,” the captain started in the middle of their chess game, his tone changed to one that always left Spock wary of his next words, “I believe the first step of expressing interest in someone is to actually talk to him.”
Spock felt his eyebrow raise automatically in response to Jim’s wiggling ones. “Captain—”
“Jim.”
“Jim. I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Believing his response firm enough to end the conversation, he returned to the game and made his move.
However, Jim only smiled in that way he did when he was quietly amused at someone, studied the board for a few moments, made his own move, and then looked back up at Spock. “I’m pretty positive that you do, Spock. You’ve been avoiding Bones! I’ve seen it. Whenever he comes on the bridge, you get all hunched over your console and won’t even look in his direction. It’s obvious.”
“I have simply been focusing on my duties—”
“Spock, come on,” Jim interrupted. “We’re friends, right?”
Inexplicably, Spock found himself becoming more receptive to the conversation, his cheeks warming at the descriptor. “I would say so if… if you would say so.”
He laughed outright at that and Spock felt himself bristle in response. “Of course we’re friends,” he said easily, soothing the offense. “I would say so. You would say so. We’re friends.”
“Alright,” he agreed, a little too quickly. “We are friends.”
“Right! So, since we’re friends, I’m legally within my rights to ask you about your romantic, or otherwise, attractions.”
Spock’s eyebrow—which had only just fallen back to a normal position a few moments before—rose at the mention of law, and climbed higher throughout the whole sentence. “While that law is certainly fictitious, I wouldn’t label them as such.”
“‘Label?’” Jim prodded. “So, you do know it exists.”
“I… I do have certain reactions to Doctor McCoy, yes.”
“So, you have feelings for him?”
Feelings? “As I am Vulcan, I cannot say that I have feelings for him.” He fumbled, realizing that he was cornered. “I suppose ‘attraction’ would be the best label after all.”
Jim looked smug, as he always did when he bested Spock verbally. “I thought so. And… when did this attraction begin?”
“I would describe it only as a mere momentary infatuation. Psychologically, it most likely occurred when he suggested we be on a first-name basis. Seeing as I rarely have close interactions with—”
“I know that this is probably leaving you vulnerable because you don't know how to deal with your feeli—”
“—I would not describe them as feel—”
“—fine, because you don’t know how to deal with your not-feelings, but you don’t have to lie to me—”
“—Vulcans do not lie, and I did no—”
“—okay, you don’t have to lie to yourself and to me by proxy.”
Spock was unable to muster up an argument to that. “I am willing to admit that I have not looked into my—to use your term—‘not-feelings’ too closely due to their… intense and unfamiliar nature.”
Jim softened in a way that their dynamic didn’t usually allow. “Sure, Spock, I can understand that.” He paused. “I’ve noticed your ‘not-feelings’ for a while now, and I don’t want you to hold yourself back from the potential of pursuing them because of your logic. Logically, if you’re attracted to someone, shouldn’t you try to satisfy that attraction?”
Spock cleared his throat and considered this. “I see and acknowledge your point. I will have to think it over.”
“Good.” And just like that, he snapped back to the less earnest version of himself. “Look! You could even start out with some simple flirtations. It doesn’t have to necessarily mean anything if you don’t want it to.”
“Flirtation?” His ears warmed at the memory of the attempt he’d made in the mirror a few days before.
“Why not? You’ve seen me in action, hell, you’ve seen Bones in action. You could try.”
“I am unsure of what ‘trying’ entails,” Spock admitted. “I would not be comfortable with using sexual innuendos as you tend to do.”
Jim snorted at that. “No! No! We can work up to that or… not work up to it?” He seemed tempted to ask Spock about his sexuality, but thankfully refrained. “I just mean some casual flirting. Touch his back, his arm. We all know how conscious you are of your space, so he’ll definitely at least notice.”
“His back?” he repeated, puzzled. “Upper or lower? And for how long? How hard should the pressure—”
“Spock,” was the interruption, accompanied with a huff of laughter. “Alright, okay, just—let me show you. Stand up.”
He obliged and stood up straight, the chess game—though unplayed for several minutes—was now truly forgotten.
Jim stood next to him, and then looked him over. “Could you loosen up a little bit? You’re Bones right now, and I’m you.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. And then very slowly, slumped his shoulders half a centimeter.
With a sigh, Jim waved it away. “Okay, that’s fine, I can work with that. So, essentially, you just have to reach around him for something.” Demonstrating, he lightly laid his hand right above the small of Spock’s back and twisted slightly around him to grab a PADD off his desk. “Now, you’ve got to say something while it’s happening to draw more attention to the moment. Like,” he made his voice rougher, “‘Excuse me, just have to slip past you.’ See?”
Spock evaluated each move Jim had made and then nodded. “Yes, I believe I understand. How long should I wait before I commence the flirtation?”
“It’s all about the spur of the moment, Spock. Just wait until the mood’s right. But you should maybe just start talking to him again. He’s noticed, and I think he’s a little sad about it.”
He blinked. Making the doctor sad had not been his intention when he began to avoid him. “I will endeavor to do that shortly. Thank you for your assistance, Jim.”
“Of course,” Jim said, smiling warmly back at him.
Spock nodded, headed for the door.
“Oh, and Spock?”
He obligingly turned around.
“Bones is my oldest friend. Be careful with him.”
Spock felt that there was an “or else” hiding after that sentence. He nodded. “Yes, Captain.”
“Leonard, excuse me, I needed to obtain this PADD that was coincidentally placed next to you.”
Spock let himself sigh in the silence of his quarters.
The next day after his talk with Jim, Spock walked into the mess hall to find him already sitting with Leonard. He was Leonard in that moment, of course, because they were all on break. Spock acquired his meal before seating himself next to Jim so he could face Leonard properly.
“Spock!” Jim greeted him. “Nice to see you here,” he said. There seemed to be an emphasis behind it—likely in reference to Spock’s recent avoidance of common areas.
“Jim,” he acknowledged. He nodded across the table. “Leonard.”
His voice didn’t crack, though his stomach twisted, but he found it was not in an altogether unpleasant way as he focused on eating his food cubes.
“Leonard, I have something to say to you.” Spock knew it wasn’t the best opening, and he could already feel his cheeks heating from those few words, but he had sworn to himself he’d see the confession through by the end of the day.
Leonard raised an eyebrow at him from his place across the table of the briefing room. He had quietly been working on his PADD for the previous sixteen minutes, and Spock found himself faltering.
“However, we can have this conversation at any time, and if you are currently preoccupied—”
“Spock,” Leonard interrupted, “spit it out, man. I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” He laid his PADD down and shifted to give Spock his full attention.
Spock nodded. “Very well.” And then, he didn’t say anything.
Leonard waited.
Spock looked at him.
“Spock? Is it that bad?”
“Leonard,” Spock said. He couldn’t quite remember what came after saying his name. “I have found that since meeting you—during our time together, that is, or, to be even more specific, the recent months we’ve spent developing our friendship—”
Spock cut himself off, and tried to keep himself from fidgeting. Leonard’s face was a non-offensive blend of concern and confusion, but his mouth stayed firmly closed as he watched him.
He tried to remember what he’d planned to say. “Leonard,” he said again, this time standing as he did so. He moved, turning to face him head on. “I have found that over the course of knowing you, my… my reactions to being in your presence have developed.”
Leonard waited for a moment, and then realized that Spock was not going to continue. “…Reactions?” he prompted.
“Indeed. These reactions are not what I would call logical. They are a product of my—” Here, he paused, and attempted to gather his courage. “—a product of the affections I hold for you. Jim—” Jim had explicitly told him to not include his name in this conversation. Spock huffed softly through his nose, irritated at his brain’s lack of articulation.
To his credit, Leonard was still sitting there patiently. His expression had changed, and Spock couldn’t name it, but he hoped that it was favorable.
“The affections I hold for you,” Spock started, firmer and louder than necessary. He softened his voice, and started over. “The affections I hold for you, Leonard, are not strictly platonic.” He didn’t look to see his expression. “I am—they are of an emotional nature, and I find them to be extremely private.”
Leonard made a soft noise that finally got Spock to look at him.
Strangely, the man was grinning.
Spock… Spock was unsure of what that meant exactly.
“Why, Mr. Spock…” Leonard drawled, “are you asking me out?”
“No,” he said. Firmly.
The grin slid off of his face, becoming blank in a single moment. “Oh… well.”
When it became clear that Leonard wouldn’t continue, Spock elaborated. “Currently, I am attempting to confess my romantic attraction to you. You may have noticed that I have been flirting with you for the past seven months, roughly. This was my first step of initiating a romantic relationship, and confessing was the second. ‘Asking out,’ as you put it, is the third step which only occurs after you respond positively to my initial admission.”
Leonard shook his head repeatedly (which Spock interpreted as rejection), and then started laughing (which Spock could only read as ambiguous since he didn’t believe Leonard would be cruel enough to mock him in this context) before finally sobering, shoulders stilling.
“Spock,” Leonard said seriously, meeting his gaze.
He swallowed, tense from waiting. “Yes, Leonard?”
“You may consider my response positive.” Spock clenched his fists to contain his excitement at the statement, though the emotion was too intense for him to truly suppress. A smile played on Leonard’s lips, and Spock thought of kissing him. Hardly a new fantasy, but one that seemed much more probable than it had mere minutes ago. “And, Spock?”
He nodded.
“Next time, don’t reject someone you’re trying to romance while you’re actively confessing to them.”
Spock blinked and conceded the point. “Duly noted, Leonard, though—”
Leonard snorted and waved his hand at him. “Don’t try to argue with me on this one! God, what am I signing up for? A man who thinks of romance as a to-do list!”
It was said goodnaturedly, so Spock decided to take it as such. The jest confirmed Leonard’s commitment to an intimate relationship and Spock felt pleased. “I was not going to argue,” he defended himself. “I was simply going to say your advice may not prove useful as I do not plan to confess to anyone else in this lifetime.”
Fascinated, he watched as red creeped up Leonard’s cheeks. “Alright,” Leonard grumbled. “Maybe you won’t be as bad at romance as I think.”