Fanfic: A Choice of Two Humans [ 1 / 1 ] [ McCoy/Spock/Chekov ]
Title: A Choice of Two Humans
Rating: T
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing (s): Implied McCoy / Spock and Spock / Chekov
Warnings: OoCness ( possibly ), some mild descriptions
Disclaimer: If I owned it, why would I be writing this? Or better yet, why would McCoy NOT be with Ensign Jailbait? Exactly. I own nothing.
Summary: Written for a prompt on the st_xi_kink_meme : Commander Spock, head of the Science Department and First Officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise was a confused man.
***********************************************
Commander Spock, head of the Science Department and First Officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise was a confused man. Even if he didn’t express it, even if no one seemed to know, he was a very confused half Vulcan indeed. It wasn’t something most would expect someone like him to be confused about. This problem was no giant formula or set of anomalies in space that made no logical sense. There was nothing about contradictory customs or unusual species or races to study. Spock was confused by something one would not have thought the half Vulcan to be capable of being confused about… matters of the heart.
After he had amicably separated from Uhura not long after the Enterprise had returned to Earth, Spock had taken the time while he was on Earth to not only mourn for his mother properly with his father, but also to decide for himself if returning to Vulcan to attempt to repopulate the species was indeed possible or even worth his time. He was, technically, a hybrid. While the genetics were possible to create him he wasn’t entirely sure if he could have a child of his own. He had needed to run experiments to see if this was indeed possible. Before he had made up his mind, however, he had run into his counterpart and had to concede it was logical for him to continue serving aboard the Enterprise if he wished while the older man helped their people. Being in two places at once was less disturbing than he thought it would be.
So Spock had regained his position on the Enteprise, serving under Captain Kirk, who’s general personality and attitude he was beginning to find more than a little irritating. Oh Spock knew he had emotions. It was simply that he was in absolute control of them. They would never control his actions, his words or his thoughts, he told himself, as they tended to do with humans. Hence they would often say he was emotionless when quite the opposite was true. Kirk seemed to know this and would often smile his secretive smiles when something pleased him. It was disconcerting and annoying.
However, because of his complete control over emotions was so absolute (or so he kept telling himself) he found the complete opposite personality of Doctor McCoy fascinating. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t logical sometimes. The man had been known to have well thought out arguments more than once under the thick blanket of his emotional outbursts but they were not the majority of the cases. There was also the added fact that every emotion, purposely hidden or not, was blatantly obvious on the man’s face if not in his body language. Secretly Spock wondered if it was possible for the man to not show his emotions at all for any period of time.
But because he enjoyed watching the man’s body language, reading every emotion from him, he had also taken the time to survey the body of the man, subconsciously, in a different light. When he went back to his rooms at the end of the long days and started mediating, it was these subconscious thoughts and images that he found that disturbed him the most… at first. It took a while but he eventually admitted to himself that Doctor McCoy was an aesthetically pleasing man. He was of average height for a human male with a stockier build that was different from the Vulcan norm. His skin was four shades darker than the captain’s skin, no doubt from spending more time outside than the captain did in his youth, and though the uniform hid the details of his form, Spock’s Vulcan eyes had picked up on the strong muscles that had developed in the man’s shoulders, arms and thighs. While his hair styling was old fashioned for humans, it seemed to suit him and he kept his face clean shaven as best he could though Spock had found that some days he ended up with stubble on his jaw and cheeks anyway by the end of the day, which meant he was using the razor and shaving cream that was more traditional of the 20 and 21st centuries.
Amongst some of the other qualities his mind had found to be important of the other man, the accent that he allowed to slip into his standard when he was stressed, upset or tired was prominent and his fondness but not addiction to drink, bourbon being his drink of choice. There was also the sound of his laughter, the image of his smile in varying degrees, varying memories of how the doctor would work himself to the point of collapse to save the crew or any population of peoples they came across from a disease that, until that point, had no cure. He was a medical genius that rivaled many Vulcans in the field. Had he been born female, Spock’s mind keep telling him, he would have made a suitable human mate.
During the many weeks it took for Spock to accept these feelings and store where they belonged (out of his daily thoughts and into a small “store box” in his mind for later), however, there had been a series of crises on the various planets and in space that had required nothing short of a tactical genius to save the ship or its crew from further damage. He had watched as the Chief navigator, a decade younger than the average crewman serving onboard the Enterprise, expertly fired off their phasers to not only block opposing torpedoes but also to find the weakest point in the opponent’s shield, crippling their weapons and leaving them with no choice but surrender. When Spock had his sensors survey the damage while Kirk was doing some negotiating, he had found that the causalities, from what he could tell, were minimal on both sides. Their own shields had been expertly manipulated as well, strengthening when the phasers had been unable to block a shot at the impact zone just enough to take most of the damage themselves. Spock wasn’t sure he would have been able to do all of that himself without years of practice.
This proof, along with the records that showed how Pavel had managed to save Kirk and Sulu from literally falling to their deaths (even if Spock didn’t quite have the courage to look up the numbers on the party that beamed up not more than five minutes later) gave irrefutable samples of boy’s intelligence and ability to manipulate numbers and facts and theorems at speeds most humans had trouble simply contemplating them at. His strengths in navigation had often saved the Enterprise many hours of travel through the more traditional routes and his near constant adjustments to their course ensured that all possible collisions were avoided. Kirk trusted no one else to guide them through an asteroid field and though it took a few tries with someone other than the young man to have him see that the captain, in this matter was quite right. The half Vulcan had to admit; it pleased him that there was at least one person onboard the Enterprise who could rival him in physics calculations, even theoretically.
And like it had done with McCoy, Spock would often find that his mind would take notes for him on the young man who has stood out from the rest on board. Sometimes these notes would involve how the young man pronounced this in Standard and from those pronunciations would postulate how he would pronounce his own native tongue while conversing with family in his native land. Other times his subconscious would theorize about the feeling of soft curls underneath his fingers since naturally curly hair was so rare amongst his own kind. The same sort of mental notes about the aesthetic qualities of his body that were made of McCoy were taken about the young man, though they were very different, focusing instead on the slimness of his build and the grace with which he moved as well as the leanness of his young face and the alertness of his eyes. This young man, too, his subconscious seemed to think a logical choice for a mate.
So now here he was, trying to decide which of the two men to chose from. The doctor, who was older and much more of an equal, not only in age but in rank, size, and dedication to a very similar work, or the ensign, who matched him, perhaps even surpassed him, in intelligence, but was younger and had the same lack of experience (he was relatively sure) that he did. Of the two, appearance wise, both were pleasing to the eye in different ways. The key factor was the personality style of the two. Which personality would he prefer in a mate?
If he was with the Doctor, he’d have to deal with some very strong emotions he wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with now. McCoy was much more forceful and stubborn in personality and had a several more years as well as much more experience than Spock himself had ever had. Chances were, if he was to choose McCoy, at least 50% of the time, perhaps more; he’d be the submissive of the pair. Vulcan culture was strongly patriarchic, and since Spock was the Vulcan of the pair he would be expected, at least amongst his own people, according to his own culture, to be the dominant one between the two. While physically he was probably stronger than the doctor, it would mean nothing if he was weak and submitted behind the closed doors of their bedroom. But would submitting to him really be as bad as it was made out to be on Vulcan?
But if he was with the young ensign, there would be no question; he would be the dominate one over the younger man. While he was what humans deemed more “beautiful” to the doctor’s “handsome” the ensign was still distinctly masculine in appearance and was far more exotic to Spock’s eyes than McCoy was. He supposed the curled blond hair and wide grey eyes certainly appealed to that aspect. But perhaps the most convincing point of all towards this was the young man’s mind which even now had yet to fully develop. He was still learning at an almost alarming rate, learning faster, more efficient formulas to solve mathematical equations and logical inquiries. Already, other than his grasp on standard being less than perfect, he was much more advanced than even the captain in many of the captain’s tasks. To a Vulcan, nothing was more arousing than a perfectly compatible mind and from little he could tell a mind meld with the ensign would be nothing less than orgasmic. Such a meld with the doctor would be as if trying to push together two magnets of the same polarity.
When Spock opened his eyes after his mediation that night, his meditation candle had long ago burned out and his room smelled of its light sweet scent. He sighed in the privacy of the darkness. His dilemma, it seemed, would persist yet another day and he wasn’t entirely sure if it would ever truly be resolved. It wasn’t something he could ask his father about. Sarek was still expecting him to find a Vulcan wife for his “time” and have children -or rather attempt to have children- with her. If he tried to ask the captain, he was fairly sure he would not only be laughed at but also be given some rather bad advice. No. This was something he would have to figure out on his own eventually.
As Spock finished up his final preparations for the night, he looked at his reflection in his small bathroom mirror. Commander Spock, head of the Science Department and First Officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise was a confused man and there was nothing he could do to alleviate this confusion. He was, as the captain would say, “fucked”.