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Damn that Vulcan bastard. He just had to get a closer look, despite all of McCoy’s warnings to the contrary.
Typical.
“My readings hardly indicate the vegetation is of any danger, Doctor,” Spock said condescendingly.
No, of course they didn’t and of course Spock wouldn’t take into account that his scanner was calibrated for human allergens, not half-Vulcan. That particular oversight was something McCoy planned to hold over his head for at least the next year, if not longer.
“Spock,” McCoy growled. “Shouldn’t you be frolicking over there with Sulu and the rest of your science team, instead of…” He waved a vague hand at the field before them filled with its leafy, flowering plants. “Hangin’ around here?”
“May I point out that you and Jim were quite content to ‘frolic’ elsewhere before you chose to follow me?”
“Well, he may be right, Mr. Spock,” Jim interjected reasonably, “Scanners won't always pick up on everything.”
“I am certain Mr. Sulu is quite capable of leading the science team,” Spock said, snippy and irritating as usual. Then, like an idiot, he ventured further onwards, eyes on his tricorder.
McCoy exchanged a furtive glance with Jim. Usually, if someone was going to get a little too excitable around flora and fauna on new planets, it’d be their captain, not their first officer.
“Spock, you better not do anythin’ that’ll land you in my damn sickbay!” McCoy called.
The Vulcan didn’t deign to answer.
* * *
He had done an initial pass with the tricorder, but following his foray into the field, his eyes glazed over pretending to stare at the screen. He didn’t need his vision, anyway. He needed his nose.
The smell saturating the air was so enticing. It drew him onward, further and further. It must have been emanating from the plants.
It was sweet, but not too sweet, and filled with promise, though of what, he couldn’t tell. It clouded Spock’s mind with a haze of pleasant sensation and emotion. It made him want to run and jump and play and climb things. It made him forget why he was there and not have any interest in remembering his purpose again, regardless.
On autopilot, he drew the strap of the scanner over his head and carelessly dropped it to the ground. Whether it was retrieved again was hardly important. Then he took another deep inhale, letting the scent overtake his nostrils and the olfactory receptors in the roof of his mouth.
The haze increased by at least a factor of ten and Spock let out a sigh of contentment. Without conscious thought, he dropped to his knees and buried his entire face in the nearest leafy plant.
Someone was shouting something through the fog. Spock happily ignored it and flipped from his knees onto his back, rubbing a cheek across the stems and leaves he was flattening. He wriggled in a sudden fit of joy.
It was perfectly heavenly. He never wanted to leave.
“Spock!” Someone shouted as footsteps came to a stop near him. “What the hell’s gotten into ya?”
Ah, yes. The doctor, with his pretty blue eyes and long fingered, deft hands and deep, lovely voice. Spock felt a purr rise within his chest, unbidden. He couldn’t help its sudden appearance, nor stop it even if he wanted to.
That, too, was a very pleasant sensation, feeling the rumbling of his own purring through his entire body. He had not purred in many years, perhaps since he'd been a child.
The doctor drew in a sharp breath and knelt beside Spock’s head.
“Spock?” Now his voice held hesitation, a note of uncertainty. “What’re you doin’, exactly? What’s that sound?”
Spock turned to look at him and gave him a small, lazy smile. Those blue eyes went very big and wide. Spock’s purr got louder.
“Holy shit…”
“Bones! What’s wrong with him?”
Was it Jim? Well, that was fine. Jim could join them if he wanted. Spock was just going to keep on gazing at Leonard’s face. What a nice face he had.
“I dunno, Jim,” Leonard said faintly, almost dazed. “I think these plants are affectin’ him. I think we need to get him outta here.”
A communicator chirped and Jim’s voice grew distant. Still smiling, Spock let his eyes fall closed, acutely aware of Leonard’s presence.
He drifted peacefully in his private universe.
* * *
“Catnip.”
“Or something very close to it, near as I can tell.”
“Catnip,” Jim repeated. “My first officer got high on catnip.”
McCoy swallowed his nervous chuckle in the face of Jim’s disbelief. The whole situation was plainly ridiculous. Spock just lay there feet away, passed out on a biobed. The drug had yet to fully clear from his system, brainwaves completely altered from that of his norm.
McCoy fiddled with the small ring on his left pinky finger for a moment, then crossed his arms and sighed.
“He’s gone on enough times about Vulcans being descended from cat-like creatures that I suppose this reaction isn’t entirely surprising. I’m just not sure when it’s gonna wear off, is the thing.”
Jim glanced towards Spock’s unconscious form and let out a considering hum.
“Well, Bones… do what you have to do. Let me know when he’s fit for duty again.” Jim looked back at him, a small smile tugging at his lips and a mischievous gleam in his eye. “And didn’t you say you grew up with cats?”
“I did, but I doubt that dealin’ with a full-grown, angsty Vulcan’s gonna be much like that.”
Jim just chuckled, a dark undertone to the sound, as though he could see the future already and it amused him. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
“What am I, a miracle worker?” McCoy asked dryly, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Around here, everyone is, Bones,” Jim said, smug and full of himself. He clapped a hand on McCoy’s shoulder before turning on his heel to head out the door and called as he went, “I leave him in your ever-so capable hands, Doctor McCoy.”
“Gee, thanks,” McCoy muttered to himself. “Not like I had anything better to do than babysit today.”
* * *
Spock was slow to reawaken. He stretched languidly, arching his back and yawning. He felt so comfortable and warm. Whatever he was lying on was very soft.
That persistent beeping, however, was somewhat off-putting. Someone needed to make it stop so Spock could return to his nap. His ears twitched just listening to it. He let out a short huff of air and opened his eyes with great displeasure.
He was immediately greeted with the sight of the doctor once again and felt his muscles return to their relaxed state. Leonard was standing next to him, looking down at a PADD. He had not noticed him yet.
That simply would not do.
Spock propped himself up on one elbow and reached out to smack the PADD from Leonard’s grip, hard. It easily fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
Leonard’s gaze darted over to look at him as his mouth dropped open. Spock stared back. He gave the doctor a long, slow blink.
Leonard’s hands were still held out in the position they’d been when he was holding the PADD. He looked ridiculous, flabbergasted.
Spock sniffed self-importantly.
“Spock,” Leonard finally said, affronted. He opened his mouth again as if he were going to say more, then appeared to think better of it. He bent to pick up the PADD.
Spock leaned over the edge of the biobed to peer at him all the way down there, so close to the floor. This felt right, Spock on a higher surface and the human lower, for ease of observation.
Leonard knew he was being watched. Spock knew that he knew because he froze for about two seconds, as though something had just occurred to him. When he stood again, he set the PADD aside on another surface and straightened his uniform shirt as he cleared his throat. He didn’t seem sure where to look.
Spock was very sure of where he should be looking.
He huffed again. Leonard’s eyes landed back on Spock’s face. That was better, but still not enough.
He wanted Leonard’s clear acknowledgement of his presence in just exactly the way he wanted it.
He sat up on the biobed and reached for one of Leonard’s hands. At first, Leonard shied away, uncertain. Spock was not deterred.
If only his claws were a little bit sharper. He would’ve been able to hook them into the fabric of Leonard’s sleeve and drag him near. Alas, he only had blunt nails.
When Spock clearly indicated he intended to grab Leonard’s hand again, Leonard rolled his eyes, stepped closer, and held one out, palm up.
“Fine, but ya better not be about to lick me. I don’t need any cat cleaning.”
That was actually a good idea. Leonard would likely benefit from a proper cleaning. Spock stored the idea away for later.
Instead, he flipped Leonard’s hand and placed it atop his own head. Leonard blinked, uncomprehending. Spock waited for him to get the message.
When no further progress had been made in the following seconds, Spock snatched Leonard’s wrist and drew his hand over Spock’s hair, all the way down to his nape, and back up again to repeat the motion.
Then understanding came across Leonard’s face.
“Oh! Right. You wanna be pet. Naturally.”
Leonard quickly took over from there and Spock settled back onto the biobed, head facing him so he could still touch Spock’s neck. Leonard gently carded his fingers through Spock’s hair, careful not to muss it the wrong way, the edges of his fingernails scratching Spock’s skin without hurting.
Spock felt a soft purr building in his chest and throat again. Leonard ought to hear it, to know he was doing a good job.
An odd, unreadable expression came over Leonard’s face. Spock entertained himself by watching the doctor, mindful of the fact that he was standing above Spock, but unbothered by it, at least for now. He’d remedy that later, find a high place to sit and look down at everyone.
Or just Leonard. Spock would be perfectly content to stay with Leonard. Surely the doctor had nothing better to do than attend to him, anyway.
* * *
Frankly, McCoy had never come aboard the Enterprise thinking he’d do just about any of the things he’d done so far. Petting his first officer like a damn cat definitely wasn’t part of the job description, and McCoy wasn’t sure how he’d feel if it became a regular ocurrence. He’d probably need a good drink or three before even considering that sort of thing again.
And they weren’t halfway through the fucking five year mission.
At the very least, there was a chance Spock wouldn’t remember any of this stuff. It was hard to guess just how good of a chance that would be, since of course there was approximately zero literature documenting the effects of that type of plant on Vulcans (or half-Vulcans for that matter), but a chance nonetheless.
On the other hand, whether he remembered or not, one fact was for certain: things between them were going to be near-punishingly awkward for years to come.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. McCoy broke out the brandy on-shift, alone in his office, with no one but the animal skulls on his shelves to comfort him.
Spock had fallen back asleep, so there was very little probability that McCoy was going to be disturbed for the next hour or so, thankfully. He didn’t want to see him for a while. Maybe Spock’s body would finally metabolize that damn catnip and he’d wake up good as new. Better yet, maybe they’d never have to talk about it again.
Jim, on the other hand, was very likely to bother him, and did.
“Doctor McCoy to the bridge,” chimed Uhura’s voice over the comm, mere moments after McCoy had taken his first sip.
He groaned in frustration, tossed the rest of the glass’s contents straight down his throat without even tasting it, and, on his way out the door, hoarsely instructed Chapel to keep a good eye on the Vulcan-feline creature currently taking up a biobed McCoy had expressly told him not to.
On the bridge, he couldn’t help automatically glancing over at Spock’s station only to find Chekov there instead. Temporarily, sure, and he’d already known who he’d see there, but it was still jarring.
“Bones,” Jim greeted, swiveling in his chair to face him as he left the turbolift. “How’s our new ship’s cat?”
McCoy rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to someone, anyone, for patience.
“He’s fine, Jim. Still high as a kite.”
Jim laughed brightly and turned back to face the view screen. McCoy came to lean against the side of his chair, arms crossed. The alcohol was leaving a pleasant burn in his chest, a grounding feeling, though he would've liked the opportunity to have had another glass.
“Has he gotten into your medicine cabinet yet, looking for the next one?” Jim asked, smiling with a level of self-satisfaction at his own joke that bordered on the outrageous.
McCoy bit back a growl, several curse words, and the urge to leave the bridge without answering.
“No,” he said sharply. “What do you think this is, some half-rate circus show I’m running down there?”
“No, Bones, of course not. I just think when Spock wants something, he can be very… determined to get it.” Jim’s tone was almost secretive, like he knew something McCoy didn’t, and combined with the sly look on his face, it was incredibly irritating.
McCoy scowled. “And just what’s that supposed to mean?”
Jim shrugged. “Nothing at all, I’m sure.”
“Remind me again why you called me up here?”
“Just figured you could use a break.”
“I was on my break,” McCoy replied waspishly, thinking of the open bottle on his desk.
“Oh, well, in that case, you’re more than welcome to get back to it.”
Damn him, Jim knew exactly what McCoy meant by ‘break.’
“Well, I’m already up here now, aren’t I?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Jim said diplomatically, though that mischievousness from earlier had yet to leave his expression. “Say, how about a drink later? We’ll celebrate your boundless patience for the likes of our first officer and me.”
McCoy threw his hands in the air and promptly left, Jim’s laughter following him all the way into the turbo lift.
* * *
"Don't even think about it," McCoy warned, wagging his finger menacingly. Or as menacingly as finger-wagging could really be.
Spock just gave him a blank look.
"You're stayin' here tonight, where my nurses can keep on eye on ya. You're still too high to be trusted around anything sharp and I've seen the inside of your quarters at least once before. Far too many sharp things lyin' around, in my humble opinion."
Spock's eyes narrowed just slightly. McCoy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Am I gonna have to sedate ya? Maybe that's the magic answer. Maybe then—”
McCoy abruptly cut himself off with a surprised yelp when something bit his other hand. He quickly snatched it away and cursed, glaring at the complete and utter lack of guilt on Spock's face.
"What the hell was that for?"
Spock, of course, didn't deign to answer. As per fucking usual.
McCoy returned his attention to examining the bitten hand. Thankfully, Spock hadn't broken the skin, although the imprint of his sharp teeth over two of the knuckles, along with the shine of the saliva he'd left behind were pretty obvious. With another muttered curse, he set off to his office to find his sanitizer.
When he returned, Spock had moved to stand by the sickbay door, hands behind his back. He was looking intensely expectant with his gaze trained on McCoy, as if he'd been trying to burn a hole through the entrance to his office.
If it weren't for the subtle differences between normal-Spock's rather human eyes and this cat version of Spock, McCoy almost wouldn't have been able to tell that he wasn't acting like himself. His pupils were smaller, not quite the narrow, thin ones of a cat, but certainly not their full, usual roundness.
"Well?" McCoy cocked a hip to the side as he crossed his arms and glowered. "You're really not sorry at all, are ya?"
Spock blinked, slowly. If that was his idea of an apology, McCoy was not accepting it.
"Get back on the damn biobed and take a twelve hour nap. You're perfectly capable of it."
Spock frowned. His gaze pointedly traveled all the way down McCoy's body to his boots, rested there for a moment, then flicked to the sickbay door and back.
"The answer's no, Spock. You don't get to go to your quarters."
Spock scrunched his face up, opened his mouth wide, and to McCoy's total astonishment, hissed at him.
"Spock," McCoy said dumbly. No other words seemed interested in following that one, useful or otherwise.
If Spock had a tail, it would've been lashing back and forth. Instead, he began tapping his foot, insistent and impatient. Again, he looked down to McCoy's boots and to the sickbay door.
McCoy decided he'd had quite enough of this very long, very stressful, and highly irritating day. He took a deep breath, counted to ten in his head, and called it quits.
"Fine. You wanna leave sickbay? Leave sickbay. But I'm gonna follow you to make sure you end up in your quarters and I'm usin' my medical override to temporarily lock you in there so I don't have to worry about you wanderin' around anywhere you shouldn't be. Understood?"
Spock immediately stopped his tapping. McCoy managed to refrain from blowing out an overexaggerated and extremely sarcastic sigh of relief.
"Good. Lemme get my PADD and we'll go."
The walk to Spock's quarters was luckily devoid of many crewmembers, although the few they passed might've looked at Spock a second or two longer than was polite. All they had to go on were rumors of what had occurred down on the planet, but everyone surely must've guessed it was serious if the fact that their first officer was currently off duty was anything to go by.
When they came to Spock's door, McCoy stopped in front of it and Spock kept going.
McCoy felt his brows furrow in confusion.
"Spock? Where ya goin'? Your quarters are here, remember?"
Spock paused and glanced back, cocking an eyebrow. That, at least, was very familiar. The half-Vulcan didn't budge as their staring contest went on. McCoy sighed for yet another time that day.
"Fine."
Once McCoy had reached Spock's side again, he continued walking purposefully down the hallway until they'd come to another door. There, he turned to face it and stopped, staring straight ahead at the unremarkable thing before them.
McCoy rolled his eyes.
"Really? My quarters?"
No response of any kind, not even a twitch. McCoy really didn't have the energy to argue. He punched in his code and let Spock enter first.
The half-Vulcan wasted no time at all in striding right towards the bed and claiming it, curling up onto his side on the mattress, arms and legs tucked in close to himself in ways that would've been uncomfortable if not for his natural flexibility. He was close enough to the edge that there was still some room on the bed, but not close enough that they wouldn't be touching if McCoy decided to try and sleep next to him.
McCoy unceremoniously dumped his PADD on the desk and headed to the 'fresher, intent on taking a very long, very hot shower with actual water instead of a sonic.
* * *
Spock had hoped he'd made himself clear.
Alas, Leonard retrieved a spare blanket and went to lie down elsewhere after emerging from the 'fresher in his black undershirt and long pants. Perhaps Leonard had willfully misinterpreted the situation or he'd just misunderstood what an honor Spock was bestowing on him with an invitation to be near his person.
It would cut into Spock's napping, but he obviously needed to begin putting more effort into Leonard's training. By the time he was done, Leonard would have no difficulty in reading what Spock wanted and quickly carrying it out.
Humans were difficult creatures, and Leonard more than most. But Spock appreciated a challenge and in particular, the one Leonard posed.
Spock's sensitive ears picked up on the doctor's breathing in the other room, shallow and uneven. He smoothly sat up and rose to his feet, padding into Leonard's sitting area. There he found him on the couch—one arm flung over his face, the free hand of his other arm fidgeting with the edge of the blanket laid atop him.
Wordlessly, Spock drew nearer and grabbed the blanket, flinging it to the side. Leonard startled badly, gasping in surprise both from the action and the unexpected exposure to cooler air, arms instinctively drawing in close to his chest in a protective motion.
"What the hell?"
Wide blue eyes met his own with uncertainty and confusion, only growing more so as Spock settled himself on top, and slightly to the side, of Leonard's body so he wouldn't crush the human, covering him with his own body as the far superior blanket. The warmth emanating from Leonard was quite pleasant.
"Uh... Spock?"
Spock wrapped his arms around Leonard's small frame, gently nuzzling the skin of the doctor's exposed and vulnerable neck to cover it with his scent. While many of the ship's crew were human and would therefore be unable to detect the scent marking, others would be very aware of Spock's claim on his own human.
Leonard's hands hesitantly came to rest on Spock's shoulders, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer.
"Spock, I... I'm a little confused right now, not gonna lie." Leonard's voice sounded different than normal, perhaps hoarse, and his drawl was a little thicker, like honey.
Spock would have reassured him with words, but it so often seemed that words between the two of them were more detrimental than helpful. Leonard had yet to understand that he belonged to Spock, and thus, Spock needed to prove it to him in a manner impossible to mistake for anything else.
First, he would finish his preliminary scent marking. It wouldn't last for more than a few days, fewer if Leonard insisted on continuing to take water showers, but Spock would have time to do a more in-depth version later. He breathed in Leonard's natural smell, comforting and oh-so-familiar, made even better and more enticing as it mixed with his.
Satisfied with his initial results, Spock opened his mouth and experimentally licked a long, broad stripe with the flat of his tongue all the way from Leonard's slightly exposed collarbone, where his shirt had shifted, to the underside of his jaw, testing his reaction. Leonard predictably froze in shock, breath hitching. Spock watched his pulse jump in his throat with fascination, a visible sign of Leonard's lifeforce so strong and undeniable.
"Spock?" Leonard squeaked.
Spock took it as his permission, considering Leonard had not, thus far, refused to let him go on. He ducked his head once more to bite Leonard, hard and fast, right in the juncture where his shoulder and neck met one another. Then he sucked the mark, just for good measure.
"Spock!" Leonard yelped again.
Then he made a sound Spock instantly knew he would never forget, a cross between a whimper and a moan, nearly cut off before it graced Spock's ears, but not quickly enough. Inwardly, he crowed at his own success.
Leonard was flushed and panting, a small trickle of sweat running from his temple into his hair. He wouldn't meet Spock's gaze again, head thrown back against the arm of the couch, only making his neck more vulnerable.
Spock felt a surge of possessiveness at the easy trust Leonard was giving him. Not only was it a privilege for Leonard to have access to Spock, but the reverse was also true, Spock realized.
"Spock... what the fuck?"
It was time to show Leonard just exactly to whom he belonged, to whom he would always belong.
Spock propped himself up with his elbows on either side of Leonard's head, caging him in, and without further ado, leaned down to kiss him on the mouth.
It was perfect. It was heaven. It was transcendence. Better than Spock had always imagined.
It didn't last.
* * *
McCoy was practically making a groove in the carpet pacing from one end of the room, exactly ten steps, and back again ten steps, wringing his hands as he went along to keep from pulling out his own hair. His heart rate was too high, his palms were irritatingly sweaty, and he was still far too hot and bothered to think rationally.
He'd let Spock, drugged, high, not-in-his-right-mind Spock, lick him, bite him, and kiss him. Hell, he hadn't even tried to stop him at any point. What kind of a damn doctor was he, letting his own patient, his superior, hell, his friend, kiss him?
Worse yet, McCoy had actually enjoyed it, Spock lavishing attention on him like that, possessive and demanding. Spock was a damn good kisser. It was as though he'd known somehow all the sorts of things McCoy enjoyed in a kiss, like he'd plucked the information straight from McCoy's brain without him realizing. But even drugged, Spock never came close to attempting a meld with him for that sort of thing.
Then the illusion came crashing down. Spock had stiffened against his mouth and McCoy knew: he'd snapped out of it, too late. The half-Vulcan pulled away, slowly, with the strangest expression on his face. He sat up on his heels and rested his palms on his thighs, straddling McCoy and effectively trapping him.
Not that he hadn't already been doing that.
"Spock?" McCoy tried, hoarsely. "Are you alright?"
"Quite, Doctor," Spock said faintly, staring down at him like he was a curious oddity. "I find myself... to be myself again."
"Do ya... are ya..." McCoy shook his head almost helplessly. "Can ya remember anything?"
"Yes."
"Like the purring and when you wanted me to pet ya and the, uh..." McCoy let out a weak, nervous laugh. "When you, uh, bit me? And the other stuff?"
"Everything."
"How do ya feel?"
Spock's gaze became distant, staring at McCoy without really seeing him.
"I feel... guilt."
Fuck.
Spock got up after that, but he didn't leave. McCoy got up, too, and started on his pacing while Spock just stood there in the middle of the room, head down, arms crossed, deep in thought.
Ten minutes became twenty became thirty.
McCoy grew impatient, agitation along with his own shame piling up higher and higher until it felt like he didn't have a choice but to let it out.
"Spock, I'm sorry," he blurted, unable to look at the other man, unable to stop moving and fidgeting. "I fucked up. I shouldn't have let you do that. You’ve got nothing to be guilty about. You were my responsibility and I—”
"It is not my own guilt I am concerned with, Doctor," Spock interrupted smoothly. "It is yours."
McCoy stopped dead in his tracks. "My guilt?"
"Indeed. With our abundance of physical contact, your emotions bled into mine. I do not feel any guilt for my actions. It would be illogical. I merely feel a sense of responsibility for them. The damage I have done to you must be remedied."
"Damage?" McCoy repeated, even more incredulous. When he finally got the courage to look at Spock again, the half-Vulcan's deep brown eyes were filled with something soft and placating as he gazed at him.
"Yes. You were unprepared for the strength of my affections. I should have expressed them to you far differently."
McCoy felt his blatant disbelief make its way from his insides to his face.
“The strength of your affections?"
Spock let out the smallest of sighs, as if slightly exasperated and trying not to show it. "Yes, Leonard," he said patiently. "It is obvious they are quite strong."
McCoy brought his hands up to rub his temples, an unfortunate headache beginning to form.
"So let me get this straight. You decide it's a fantastic idea to wander into a field and get high on catnip, despite both me and Jim warning you not to, then you start acting like a damn cat, and then you top it all off trying to seduce me? When the hell did your damn affections even come into any of this? I've known you seven and a half years and you never once—”
"Leonard, I will state it plainly. I love you. I have felt so for approximately six of those seven and a half years. Your very nature has made it impossible for me not to."
McCoy blinked and stared at him, speechless. A pin could’ve dropped on that damn carpet and it would’ve made a sound loud enough for even his weak human ears to pick up.
Spock stood there, head tilted slightly to the side now, unmoving. He looked perfectly put together, clothes unwrinkled and hair just so, as if he hadn’t come off a day of drug-induced weirdness less than an hour before.
“Spock, I didn’t even know I was attracted to you till about half an hour ago,” McCoy finally found himself able to admit, almost apologetically, still struggling to process the fact that the words ‘I love you’ had just exited his first officer’s mouth.
Spock gave him a small shrug, which felt uncharacteristic, as though he were intentionally trying to be more human for McCoy in that moment.
“That does not upset me.”
“Well, why did you never tell me you felt this way?”
“Because I correctly assumed you did not view me the same, and as a Vulcan, it was not terribly difficult to set my feelings aside in the expectation that one day, they might be returned.”
“Oh,” McCoy breathed out.
Spock’s lips quirked up and he gave McCoy a blatantly sarcastic raise of an eyebrow.
“Oh,” he echoed.
McCoy felt a grin start to creep across his face.
* * *
“Worked everything out, then?”
“Yeah, Jim, we fuck each other on the regular now,” McCoy deadpanned.
Jim choked on the next sip of his drink, coughing and spluttering indignantly.
“Bones!”
“Consider that payback for all your asinine commentary.”
“God, that’s the last thing I ever wanted to hear coming out of your mouth.”
McCoy laughed and raised his glass in a cheers, then downed it as Jim shot him a glare.
“Unbelievable.”
“Like you’re any better.”
“Jim, I believe it is your turn,” Spock spoke up, eyes on the board between them, but not even trying to hide the amusement he was clearly feeling.
“Ah, yes. Sorry, Spock.”
“Apologies are unnecessary.”
“Are you feeling any better since all that…” Jim pursed his lips and plucked a piece off the board, then waved it around vaguely as if that could finish his sentence for him. “Catnip stuff?”
“Much improved, Jim. And ‘catnip’ is not the correct term for it.”
“‘Catnip’ is perfectly correct, Spock. It’s just another name for the same thing,” McCoy said cheerfully, just to be annoying.
“Leonard, you know as well as I do that the colloquial term for something is not generally the most accurate.”
“It’s accurate enough.”
“Accurate enough is hardly scientific.”
“Scientific, my ass. You licked me.”
Jim made a noise of disgust and McCoy chortled again, probably far too delighted with the new ability he and Spock seemed to have in making him uncomfortable.
“Spock, you need to tell your boyfriend to take it down a few notches. It’s inappropriate. I feel harassed.”
“Unfortunately, Jim, I could not begin to try and control Leonard’s words or actions any more than I could try to control your own.”
“Am I being ganged up on?”
“Yes,” McCoy answered at the same time Spock said, “No.”
“Oh, god. This is what it’s gonna be like from now on, isn’t it? You two, constantly flirting and being weird with each other in front of me.”
McCoy shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other, and adopted a thoughtful expression.
“See, Jim, when one man loves another—”
Jim groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. This time, McCoy’s laughter came out as more of a cackle than anything else. Spock almost seemed on the edge of rolling his eyes, but when he glanced over to meet McCoy’s gaze, they simply held affection.
McCoy gave him a fond smile.
Now he was kind of glad the damn Vulcan bastard hadn’t listened to him.