Star Trek reboot FF: We start with the small things [McCoy, Spock, Kirk; PG-13]
Title: We start with the small things
Fandom: Star Trek reboot
Characters: McCoy, Spock, Kirk
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2,300 words
Disclaimer: Belongs to Paramount and Gene Roddenberry.
Spoilers: Just the new movie.
Summary: Leonard knows, in a vague, frustrated way, that he needs to fix the problems he’s having with Spock.
AN: There was a discussion recently about the language McCoy uses when he's talking about Spock, and what that meant in these times. That was, sort of, why I started writing this, but it doesn't deal with it in nearly as much depth/gravity as it should. As always, concrit is welcome.
Leonard knows, in a vague, frustrated way, that he needs to fix the problems he’s having with Spock. This simmering resentment he has for the ship’s first officer can’t be healthy.
It’s not - (this is what he tells himself when Uhura glares; when Chekov’s eyes go wide and unhappy; the rare times he almost catches the change in Spock’s expression) it’s really not the Vulcan thing. Leonard is responsible for the health and well being of one thousand crewmembers in every shape and colour in the galaxy, and they frustrate him in approximately equal measure. Hell, he’s pissed off at Jim more than with anyone else, and their illustrious Captain is the most ‘human’ one among them.
It’s about Jim, more than anything else, but neither Spock nor Jim seems to get that.
The command crew is in the briefing room, theoretically because Jim runs an open ship, and he wants to hear what they have to say about their planned mission. In practice, Leonard thinks that Jim is still scared senseless of fucking up, and hopes that between his crew, here where they have ‘permission to speak freely’, someone will catch his mistakes.
They’re debating how to allocate aid resources, and Spock says something cool and logical and so utterly inhuman that it makes Leonard’s head hurt.
Leonard makes a remark under his breath about lizard-blood; Jim doesn’t even turn his head when he says, “Stop that, Bones.”
Jim just goes right ahead fighting his own argument with Spock, and still doesn’t look around. So yeah, this is something Leonard needs to work on.
*
The first time, it had been because he was so stupidly damn furious on Jim’s behalf, he hadn’t thought about it. Spock had brought Jim’s father into the investigation, and Leonard had watched all the assurance slide from Jim’s face. He had watched Jim standing there, young suddenly, and unprepared for Spock’s implacable attack.
Jim says, ‘pointy-eared bastard’, and Leonard agrees with him because it’s the closest insult he can find to bringing up a guy’s dead father during an academic hearing. It’s the only thing he can think of that might wound Spock the way he just wounded Jim.
So he agrees with Jim’s assessment, and laughs, and watches Jim come back to himself.
*
Jim is himself in the medical bay, sitting on the edge of the bed and refusing to lie down. He’s got a cracked rib, and he’s trying to go back to the bridge.
Leonard snaps, “Let the damn Vulcan take care of the ship, Jim. I need to see to that-” He jabs the hypospray into Jim’s neck.
Jim says, “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“I know,” he mutters, “but Starfleet aren’t gonna forgive me if I let you puncture a lung.”
“Not that,” Jim says. “Spock.”
Leonard goes quiet. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s…” He trails off and then says, “mean,” which is what Leonard was expecting, and “and it goes against the Starfleet ethos of inclusion,” which isn’t.
Leonard laughs - he can’t help it. Jim used to duck out of the inter-species sensitivity lectures and use the free time to drag Leonard out to the city’s bars instead.
Jim is looking at him, serious expression that still doesn’t quite fit. But he’s trying. He means it.
The second time, it had been because Jim was lolling up against him, feverish and half a dozen other symptoms Leonard hadn’t expected. Because Jim had been so quiet and still when he thought he would be left behind, and Leonard had risked his own career to smuggle him aboard. He says it because it might make Jim laugh - because it reminds him why it’s okay to be doing this. Jim wouldn’t have needed to stowaway if Spock hadn’t been such a bastard about his pointless test. If Spock had the common decency to just let it go, instead of pushing and pressing until Leonard finds himself behaving like as much of an idiot as Jim.
*
After that, it’s because of the nerve-pinch, and the ice-planet, because of Jim’s gasped breaths when Spock had finally let go of his throat.
Leonard knows, really, why Spock had left Jim in the snow. He knows that if Jim wasn’t such a bloody-minded moron kid, and had stayed where he was put, he wouldn’t nearly have been eaten or frozen or transported into vacuum. (In the long-term, of course, that would have left the rest of them all dead, but that’s not the point he’s working on now).
What’s more, he knows perfectly well that Jim doesn’t care anymore that Spock tried to strangle him. Jim had aimed for a particular reaction, with his usual dedication to the things he actually cares about, and he doesn’t resent the fact that he got what he was asking for. Jim trusts Spock with his life and even given Jim’s general disregard for his own safety, that means something.
It means something that Leonard’s still the one Jim comes to when he just wants to talk. Jim is sitting across the table from him, saying something about this girl he remembers from back home, and not caring especially that Leonard’s not paying attention.
Leonard says, “You hate my ex-wife.”
Jim cocks his head and drawls, “Yeah?”
“You hate her more than I do.”
“What’s your point?”
“You’ve never met her, Jim.”
“So what? She screwed you over, man. I’ve got no room for people like that, especially anywhere near you.”
“Yeah,” Leonard says. “And it doesn’t make a blind fuck of difference that I’m done with hating her. That she’s the mother of my kid, or that it was my fault too. You- We’re friends, so you hate her.”
“Yeah,” Jim agrees, and is clearly missing the point completely.
It’s never come up before. This is what happens when your friend has a girl - they break up with them, you join in when they’re playing bad-mouth the ex, and six weeks later they’re best friends again. Or dating again, maybe. And Leonard is the one left with the bitter taste in his mouth of he hurt you. He takes Jim’s grudges on for him, because Jim never could hold one that long, and now he’s the only one with the problem. He can’t hate Spock, because Spock is first officer, and outranks him, and because it would stop the ship working. So Vulcan becomes shorthand for everything about Spock that Leonard hates, for its own sake, and because it had nearly got Jim killed. The logic, and the ability to do maths with people, and the way he refuses to react in any way Leonard can predict.
Jim catches up, eventually, and says, “It’s not the same. I’d never call her- I don’t know. But it’s not the same.”
It’s more the same than Jim thinks, but farther apart than Leonard does. Leonard says, “I know. Fuck it, I know.”
*
Still, he really thinks he could be forgiven for not picking up the analogy sooner. Jim’s never had anyone long enough for Leonard to hold a grudge against them for breaking his friend open. He’s never had to reach out his hands for the words he knows, damn it, he shouldn’t be saying, but it’s that or obey the itching of his fingers wrapped into fists.
Jim started it, he wants to say, like they’re in grade school. He said it first, and it worked, and it was the only thing that did. And sometimes, God, he just needed to get an edge on Spock, to rub away the gloss of perfect calm. It doesn’t make him happy.
His hands are in some girl’s chest, and he’s glad of Spock’s composure. The one time Jim follows protocol and doesn’t leave the ship without both her captain and her first officer. Leonard had been suspicious at the time - any mission that leaves him and Spock alone together planet-side had to ring alarm bells. But he’s pretty sure Jim didn’t plan on civil war breaking out.
Spock hands him the instruments before Leonard asks and, finally, his careful hands pinch tight near Leonard’s, where the vein is spilling.
Their bare arms are touching and for a moment Leonard wonders if it’s the telepathy thing. He realises he doesn’t care. He’s a doctor, not a meatball surgeon, and he’s one more complication away from out of his depth. He’ll take whatever help he can get.
They get the girl - the senator’s daughter - stable eventually. Then there is another, and another, until they blur in front of him. Leonard is aware that sometimes Spock is beside him, and sometimes he is with the military leaders, but that is the only difference he registers until he is pulled away from the last patient. Spock closes the boy’s eyes, stroking the lids down with his fingers.
Leonard looks at him. “Is that a human thing or a Vulcan thing?”
“Does it matter?” Spock asks.
“I guess not. Are we- are we done?”
“There are ships overhead, not far from here. But it is still unsafe to travel, and we cannot reach the Enterprise.” They had lost communication days ago.
“So? We wait?”
“We wait,” Spock agrees.
They sit near the bunker’s entrance, and Leonard keeps himself amused by listing the ways he’ll make Jim pay for forcing him into this away mission. He sleeps, on and off, and then on for hours at a stretch. He wakes because Spock’s hand is on his shoulder.
Spock says, “You must take watch for a few hours.”
“Hmm?” Leonard looks at Spock properly, now that he can hold his own eyes open. Christ. Spock is pale with exhaustion, though there’s a creep of green flush high on his cheeks. Leonard frowns at him. “Even Vulcans need to sleep sometimes. How long have you been trying to stay awake?”
“I don’t know,” Spock says, and that’s as much of an admission as Leonard needs.
“Sleep,” he says.
“That is why I asked you to relieve my watch,” Spock points out.
“Sleep,” Leonard says again. “As your CMO, that’s an order.”
“An unnecessary one,” Spock says, “as I had already planned to comply.” He leans against the wall, and it must be uncomfortable, but his eyes shut, and it’s only a minute or so before his breathing evens out.
Leonard has experience enough at multitasking that he can keep half of his attention on the entrance, and the other half on making sure Spock is actually asleep.
There is a noise outside. His phaser is in his hand before Jim bursts through.
Jim’s uniform is stained with blood and grime, and he has his own phaser out with a deadly look in his eyes. When he sees Leonard, he chokes before he smiles. He crosses the distance in two strides, and forgets that they only hug when they’re drunk. Jim’s gaze drifts sideways before Leonard can speak. His expression freezes.
“He’s asleep, Jim,” Leonard says. “He’s asleep. He’s fine. You think I’d let our first officer get killed?”
Jim looks at him. “No.”
Spock opens his eyes. “Captain.”
Jim doesn’t hug Spock, though Leonard would kind of like to see what happen if he tried. Jim just reaches his hand down and holds it there patiently until Spock condescends to use it to pull himself up. Jim says, “Ready to go home?”
“Yes,” Spock answers, as Leonard is saying, “Damn right.” They look at each other over Jim’s shoulder.
Jim laughs, nothing deeper behind it than relief, and pulls them into the open space outside. He taps his communicator and says, “Three to beam up, Scotty.”
*
Leonard wonders sometimes if he’s ever going to get used to this. The Enterprise moves soundlessly through the dark, and any creaking and shuddering is his imagination talking. But she does jolt when they break away from the planet and go to warp.
“Scotty,” Jim calls warningly.
“On it, Captain. She might have taken a bit of a hit in that last skirmish.”
“Oh, you think?”
Leonard has his hand braced on the back of Jim’s chair, after his feet slipped away from him.
Spock looks at him, from where he is standing unanchored between his own station and the captain’s chair.
Leonard glares. “What? So I didn’t sell my soul for Vulcan balance, you’ve got a problem?”
Spock says, “I wanted to ensure that you had regained your footing.” He has that particular ability to make Leonard feel like an asshole and yet stupidly pissed off all at the same time.
“Dammit,” he mutters. Then, to Spock, “You know I’m trying. Give me that one, at least?”
“Of course, Doctor,” Spock answers. “You are only human, after all.”
The others look at Leonard, but he looks at Spock. Testing to see if that was a statement or a joke, first, before he is struck with the thought. Spock had paused on his way to Jim, and to the health of the ship, to check that Leonard was standing up okay.
They frustrate him in equal measure. Sulu, the goddamn adrenaline junkie, has turned around to smirk right at him. Chekov is laughing quietly, but the boy-genius hasn’t figured out that Leonard can see his reflection in the view-screen. Uhura makes no secret of her amusement, or of that fact that she thinks he deserves it.
That’s not what strikes him, though. Jim’s laughter fills the bridge, ringing out full and delighted. And Spock looks at Jim, with the line of his mouth relaxed a little. Pleased with himself for making Jim laugh, and only mostly hiding it.
They have the big things in common: Starfleet officers, and a commitment to the mission, and to the ship. And there are enough little things that they can get by, even if it does just start with the way that Jim loves them both, and needs them to get along. That they know they are both needed on the ship, and that damn near everyone around them is crazy. The parts in the middle, he’s still working on. He’s trying. It’s not enough, yet, but it’s a start. He uses Spock’s shoulder to steady himself, walking away to give Spock room. Jim is still laughing, but Spock nods, and lets him by.
FIN
Fandom: Star Trek reboot
Characters: McCoy, Spock, Kirk
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2,300 words
Disclaimer: Belongs to Paramount and Gene Roddenberry.
Spoilers: Just the new movie.
Summary: Leonard knows, in a vague, frustrated way, that he needs to fix the problems he’s having with Spock.
AN: There was a discussion recently about the language McCoy uses when he's talking about Spock, and what that meant in these times. That was, sort of, why I started writing this, but it doesn't deal with it in nearly as much depth/gravity as it should. As always, concrit is welcome.
Leonard knows, in a vague, frustrated way, that he needs to fix the problems he’s having with Spock. This simmering resentment he has for the ship’s first officer can’t be healthy.
It’s not - (this is what he tells himself when Uhura glares; when Chekov’s eyes go wide and unhappy; the rare times he almost catches the change in Spock’s expression) it’s really not the Vulcan thing. Leonard is responsible for the health and well being of one thousand crewmembers in every shape and colour in the galaxy, and they frustrate him in approximately equal measure. Hell, he’s pissed off at Jim more than with anyone else, and their illustrious Captain is the most ‘human’ one among them.
It’s about Jim, more than anything else, but neither Spock nor Jim seems to get that.
The command crew is in the briefing room, theoretically because Jim runs an open ship, and he wants to hear what they have to say about their planned mission. In practice, Leonard thinks that Jim is still scared senseless of fucking up, and hopes that between his crew, here where they have ‘permission to speak freely’, someone will catch his mistakes.
They’re debating how to allocate aid resources, and Spock says something cool and logical and so utterly inhuman that it makes Leonard’s head hurt.
Leonard makes a remark under his breath about lizard-blood; Jim doesn’t even turn his head when he says, “Stop that, Bones.”
Jim just goes right ahead fighting his own argument with Spock, and still doesn’t look around. So yeah, this is something Leonard needs to work on.
*
The first time, it had been because he was so stupidly damn furious on Jim’s behalf, he hadn’t thought about it. Spock had brought Jim’s father into the investigation, and Leonard had watched all the assurance slide from Jim’s face. He had watched Jim standing there, young suddenly, and unprepared for Spock’s implacable attack.
Jim says, ‘pointy-eared bastard’, and Leonard agrees with him because it’s the closest insult he can find to bringing up a guy’s dead father during an academic hearing. It’s the only thing he can think of that might wound Spock the way he just wounded Jim.
So he agrees with Jim’s assessment, and laughs, and watches Jim come back to himself.
*
Jim is himself in the medical bay, sitting on the edge of the bed and refusing to lie down. He’s got a cracked rib, and he’s trying to go back to the bridge.
Leonard snaps, “Let the damn Vulcan take care of the ship, Jim. I need to see to that-” He jabs the hypospray into Jim’s neck.
Jim says, “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“I know,” he mutters, “but Starfleet aren’t gonna forgive me if I let you puncture a lung.”
“Not that,” Jim says. “Spock.”
Leonard goes quiet. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s…” He trails off and then says, “mean,” which is what Leonard was expecting, and “and it goes against the Starfleet ethos of inclusion,” which isn’t.
Leonard laughs - he can’t help it. Jim used to duck out of the inter-species sensitivity lectures and use the free time to drag Leonard out to the city’s bars instead.
Jim is looking at him, serious expression that still doesn’t quite fit. But he’s trying. He means it.
The second time, it had been because Jim was lolling up against him, feverish and half a dozen other symptoms Leonard hadn’t expected. Because Jim had been so quiet and still when he thought he would be left behind, and Leonard had risked his own career to smuggle him aboard. He says it because it might make Jim laugh - because it reminds him why it’s okay to be doing this. Jim wouldn’t have needed to stowaway if Spock hadn’t been such a bastard about his pointless test. If Spock had the common decency to just let it go, instead of pushing and pressing until Leonard finds himself behaving like as much of an idiot as Jim.
*
After that, it’s because of the nerve-pinch, and the ice-planet, because of Jim’s gasped breaths when Spock had finally let go of his throat.
Leonard knows, really, why Spock had left Jim in the snow. He knows that if Jim wasn’t such a bloody-minded moron kid, and had stayed where he was put, he wouldn’t nearly have been eaten or frozen or transported into vacuum. (In the long-term, of course, that would have left the rest of them all dead, but that’s not the point he’s working on now).
What’s more, he knows perfectly well that Jim doesn’t care anymore that Spock tried to strangle him. Jim had aimed for a particular reaction, with his usual dedication to the things he actually cares about, and he doesn’t resent the fact that he got what he was asking for. Jim trusts Spock with his life and even given Jim’s general disregard for his own safety, that means something.
It means something that Leonard’s still the one Jim comes to when he just wants to talk. Jim is sitting across the table from him, saying something about this girl he remembers from back home, and not caring especially that Leonard’s not paying attention.
Leonard says, “You hate my ex-wife.”
Jim cocks his head and drawls, “Yeah?”
“You hate her more than I do.”
“What’s your point?”
“You’ve never met her, Jim.”
“So what? She screwed you over, man. I’ve got no room for people like that, especially anywhere near you.”
“Yeah,” Leonard says. “And it doesn’t make a blind fuck of difference that I’m done with hating her. That she’s the mother of my kid, or that it was my fault too. You- We’re friends, so you hate her.”
“Yeah,” Jim agrees, and is clearly missing the point completely.
It’s never come up before. This is what happens when your friend has a girl - they break up with them, you join in when they’re playing bad-mouth the ex, and six weeks later they’re best friends again. Or dating again, maybe. And Leonard is the one left with the bitter taste in his mouth of he hurt you. He takes Jim’s grudges on for him, because Jim never could hold one that long, and now he’s the only one with the problem. He can’t hate Spock, because Spock is first officer, and outranks him, and because it would stop the ship working. So Vulcan becomes shorthand for everything about Spock that Leonard hates, for its own sake, and because it had nearly got Jim killed. The logic, and the ability to do maths with people, and the way he refuses to react in any way Leonard can predict.
Jim catches up, eventually, and says, “It’s not the same. I’d never call her- I don’t know. But it’s not the same.”
It’s more the same than Jim thinks, but farther apart than Leonard does. Leonard says, “I know. Fuck it, I know.”
*
Still, he really thinks he could be forgiven for not picking up the analogy sooner. Jim’s never had anyone long enough for Leonard to hold a grudge against them for breaking his friend open. He’s never had to reach out his hands for the words he knows, damn it, he shouldn’t be saying, but it’s that or obey the itching of his fingers wrapped into fists.
Jim started it, he wants to say, like they’re in grade school. He said it first, and it worked, and it was the only thing that did. And sometimes, God, he just needed to get an edge on Spock, to rub away the gloss of perfect calm. It doesn’t make him happy.
His hands are in some girl’s chest, and he’s glad of Spock’s composure. The one time Jim follows protocol and doesn’t leave the ship without both her captain and her first officer. Leonard had been suspicious at the time - any mission that leaves him and Spock alone together planet-side had to ring alarm bells. But he’s pretty sure Jim didn’t plan on civil war breaking out.
Spock hands him the instruments before Leonard asks and, finally, his careful hands pinch tight near Leonard’s, where the vein is spilling.
Their bare arms are touching and for a moment Leonard wonders if it’s the telepathy thing. He realises he doesn’t care. He’s a doctor, not a meatball surgeon, and he’s one more complication away from out of his depth. He’ll take whatever help he can get.
They get the girl - the senator’s daughter - stable eventually. Then there is another, and another, until they blur in front of him. Leonard is aware that sometimes Spock is beside him, and sometimes he is with the military leaders, but that is the only difference he registers until he is pulled away from the last patient. Spock closes the boy’s eyes, stroking the lids down with his fingers.
Leonard looks at him. “Is that a human thing or a Vulcan thing?”
“Does it matter?” Spock asks.
“I guess not. Are we- are we done?”
“There are ships overhead, not far from here. But it is still unsafe to travel, and we cannot reach the Enterprise.” They had lost communication days ago.
“So? We wait?”
“We wait,” Spock agrees.
They sit near the bunker’s entrance, and Leonard keeps himself amused by listing the ways he’ll make Jim pay for forcing him into this away mission. He sleeps, on and off, and then on for hours at a stretch. He wakes because Spock’s hand is on his shoulder.
Spock says, “You must take watch for a few hours.”
“Hmm?” Leonard looks at Spock properly, now that he can hold his own eyes open. Christ. Spock is pale with exhaustion, though there’s a creep of green flush high on his cheeks. Leonard frowns at him. “Even Vulcans need to sleep sometimes. How long have you been trying to stay awake?”
“I don’t know,” Spock says, and that’s as much of an admission as Leonard needs.
“Sleep,” he says.
“That is why I asked you to relieve my watch,” Spock points out.
“Sleep,” Leonard says again. “As your CMO, that’s an order.”
“An unnecessary one,” Spock says, “as I had already planned to comply.” He leans against the wall, and it must be uncomfortable, but his eyes shut, and it’s only a minute or so before his breathing evens out.
Leonard has experience enough at multitasking that he can keep half of his attention on the entrance, and the other half on making sure Spock is actually asleep.
There is a noise outside. His phaser is in his hand before Jim bursts through.
Jim’s uniform is stained with blood and grime, and he has his own phaser out with a deadly look in his eyes. When he sees Leonard, he chokes before he smiles. He crosses the distance in two strides, and forgets that they only hug when they’re drunk. Jim’s gaze drifts sideways before Leonard can speak. His expression freezes.
“He’s asleep, Jim,” Leonard says. “He’s asleep. He’s fine. You think I’d let our first officer get killed?”
Jim looks at him. “No.”
Spock opens his eyes. “Captain.”
Jim doesn’t hug Spock, though Leonard would kind of like to see what happen if he tried. Jim just reaches his hand down and holds it there patiently until Spock condescends to use it to pull himself up. Jim says, “Ready to go home?”
“Yes,” Spock answers, as Leonard is saying, “Damn right.” They look at each other over Jim’s shoulder.
Jim laughs, nothing deeper behind it than relief, and pulls them into the open space outside. He taps his communicator and says, “Three to beam up, Scotty.”
*
Leonard wonders sometimes if he’s ever going to get used to this. The Enterprise moves soundlessly through the dark, and any creaking and shuddering is his imagination talking. But she does jolt when they break away from the planet and go to warp.
“Scotty,” Jim calls warningly.
“On it, Captain. She might have taken a bit of a hit in that last skirmish.”
“Oh, you think?”
Leonard has his hand braced on the back of Jim’s chair, after his feet slipped away from him.
Spock looks at him, from where he is standing unanchored between his own station and the captain’s chair.
Leonard glares. “What? So I didn’t sell my soul for Vulcan balance, you’ve got a problem?”
Spock says, “I wanted to ensure that you had regained your footing.” He has that particular ability to make Leonard feel like an asshole and yet stupidly pissed off all at the same time.
“Dammit,” he mutters. Then, to Spock, “You know I’m trying. Give me that one, at least?”
“Of course, Doctor,” Spock answers. “You are only human, after all.”
The others look at Leonard, but he looks at Spock. Testing to see if that was a statement or a joke, first, before he is struck with the thought. Spock had paused on his way to Jim, and to the health of the ship, to check that Leonard was standing up okay.
They frustrate him in equal measure. Sulu, the goddamn adrenaline junkie, has turned around to smirk right at him. Chekov is laughing quietly, but the boy-genius hasn’t figured out that Leonard can see his reflection in the view-screen. Uhura makes no secret of her amusement, or of that fact that she thinks he deserves it.
That’s not what strikes him, though. Jim’s laughter fills the bridge, ringing out full and delighted. And Spock looks at Jim, with the line of his mouth relaxed a little. Pleased with himself for making Jim laugh, and only mostly hiding it.
They have the big things in common: Starfleet officers, and a commitment to the mission, and to the ship. And there are enough little things that they can get by, even if it does just start with the way that Jim loves them both, and needs them to get along. That they know they are both needed on the ship, and that damn near everyone around them is crazy. The parts in the middle, he’s still working on. He’s trying. It’s not enough, yet, but it’s a start. He uses Spock’s shoulder to steady himself, walking away to give Spock room. Jim is still laughing, but Spock nods, and lets him by.
FIN