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The doors to sickbay slid open and Spock heard a massive sigh. The doctor turned from where he was busy sterilising his tools.
“If this is another—“
He stopped when he caught sight of the Vulcan in the doorway. Spock glanced around, confirming there were no others present in the room before he approached the doctor, who had since returned to his tasks.
“Leonard,” he murmured, hands snaking around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder.
It had been a long alpha shift. Things on the bridge were as fast-paced as ever, with Spock being required to do various complex calculations in a short period of time. Though this was hardly different from the usual, it did take a significant toll on the man. He’d planned to spend a few hours meditating before dinner, but realised he hadn’t seen McCoy all day.
Leonard usually liked it when he hugged him from behind. He’d said so himself months ago. He would turn his head so he could kiss Spock’s cheek, or sometimes lean back against him, giving him a moment of reprieve from a busy day treating all sorts of illnesses and injuries.
But today he tensed under the Vulcan’s touch.
“Not now, Spock. I’m busy.”
He squirmed out of his grasp and put the last of the tools in the sterilisation chamber, leaving Spock standing with his hands uselessly by his sides.
“You have completed your tasks for today,” Spock stated, eyebrow raised. “Doctor M’Benga will surely be able to manage from here.”
“I said not now,” McCoy replied, ignoring what he said.
“Leonard,” Spock’s voice softened as he approached him again. “Is something wrong?”
“Doesn’t matter,” muttered the doctor, which Spock knew was human-speak for something is very wrong.
“Ashalik,” Spock said, holding his wrist.
McCoy looked up into his dark eyes, suddenly bare and unable to hide what he was feeling.
“Lend me your thoughts?” Spock continued.
Everything inside the doctor was tell on him to say no. Spock didn’t need to know about the cramps. Spock had more important things to worry about. Spock—
Spock was holding his wrist to his heart, letting McCoy feel the soft flutter in his side.
The doctor nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor, feeling the start of the familiar telepathic connection. Moments later, Spock was in his mind, feeling the same pain he felt in his gut, and the same exhaustion that weighed down his limbs.
Slowly, Spock severed the link, returning the doctor’s wrist to him. But that was quickly replaced by a warm hand cupping his cheek.
“Ashalik, you are in pain,” he said in that low voice that had McCoy weak at his knees. “Menstrual cramps?”
McCoy nodded. “They’re not usually this bad—well, sometimes they are, but—“
“You do not need to justify your pain to me,” Spock said. McCoy’s lips parted, an argument ready on his tongue, but it disappeared the moment the Vulcan stepped back.
“Where’re you goin’?” McCoy asked.
Spock shot him a tiny smile. “To my quarters. I will await your presence at 1900 hours.”
1900 hours gave McCoy plenty of time to head back to his own quarters to shower and change, so that was what he did. Ideally, he would have stayed curled up under his own covers, lights dark, trying to sleep through the pain, but something in Spock’s knowing smile told him that it would be better to go.
Before leaving his room, McCoy swallowed down another painkiller with a gulp of water. Whatever he’d taken earlier in the day was wearing off, and he couldn’t imagine how much worse things would feel if he didn’t have the medication to help. Periods in general were a terrible time for him, and cramps only exacerbated the problem.
Nevertheless, he stood outside Spock’s quarters at 1901, dressed in the most comfortable regulation clothing he could find—a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants. He pressed the chime and immediately, the door slid open.
Inside, Spock was waiting, also freshly showered and dressed comfortably. But what really caught the doctor’s attention was the array of comfort foods prepared and set up on his desk.
Chocolate, tea, a bowl of chips, another of mac and cheese, and a container of ice cream that was surprisingly still intact.
McCoy looked between Spock and the set-up on the table, asking the obvious question with his eyes.
“Yes, Ashalik, it is all for you,” Spock answered. “I have researched common comfort foods humans enjoy when coping with menstrual cramps.”
“Spock…” the doctor wanted to hug him, but he found himself rooted to the spot, enamoured by the food.
“I must ask, have you had any medication to assist with lowering the pain?”
“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly. “Just waiting for it to kick in.”
Spock nodded, approaching the table. “Please, Leonard, choose whatever appeals to you.”
He handed the doctor a plate and McCoy piled on a good helping of mac and cheese. He held it up to show Spock.
“I’ll start with this,” he smiled.
“As you wish,” came the reply.
They sat down together in a peaceful silence, Spock eating his own vegetable dish while stealing the occasional glance at McCoy. Swallowing the pasta warmed the doctor’s throat, and he quickly realised he’d gone all day without eating. Finishing up his serve, he broke off a piece of chocolate and offered some to Spock.
With a quirk of his lips, Spock accepted.
And then McCoy moved onto the ice cream.
Finally, when he was fully fed and watered, Spock stood from his seat. He went over to his bed and lay back, opening his legs to make space for the other man.
“Come,” he beckoned. “You will spend the night with me.”
“Spock,” McCoy approached the bed, but lingered a few steps away. “These things are only built for one.”
“That has never stopped us before,” Spock replied, raising his eyebrow.
“Smartass,” McCoy smiled.
He climbed in and lay down, letting his back lean against Spock’s chest. The Vulcan’s long legs curled around his, and a moment later, his fingers were at his temples.
“Close your eyes,” Spock instructed.
McCoy did as he was told, suddenly too exhausted to argue. The painkillers were beginning to kick into action, and he felt pleasantly numb and full, aside from the occasional pang in his abdomen. Spock’s deft fingers began to knead his skin, starting at the temples and then into his hair.
“Is this acceptable?” he asked.
The doctor hummed in response.
For a while, Spock kept it at this. But after the third time he watched the man he loved shift his hips to get more comfortable, he knew there was something more he had to do.
“May I meld with you?”
“Sure,” McCoy murmured, almost asleep from the head massage.
Gently, Spock entered his mind. He kept the massage going, but took his time to find the source of the discomfort—the menstrual cramps. Leonard had them hidden away deep in his mind, trying to keep them far away from himself and from anyone else.
Let me carry some of this with you, Spock offered.
Sleepy Leonard agreed, allowing Spock into that part of his mind. Slowly, the Vulcan siphoned some of the pain into his own mind and body, allowing his partner a brief reprieve. Surely enough, Leonard slipped away, curling up against Spock’s heart.
Sleep, Ashalik. I will be here when you wake.