FIC: Where All My Journeys End.
Title: Where All My Journeys End
Rating: a strong PG-13, for suggestive themes.
Pairing: Spock/McCoy.
Word Count: ~1,500 words.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all.
Summary: The first week aboard the new Enterprise, Spock and McCoy take the opportunity to reacquaint themselves, and reflect on everything that has led them to this moment.
Author Notes: Complete and utter fluff. Takes place after the events of "Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home", and references events in "Star Trek III: The Search For Spock." Established relationship in this fic, which was a new step for me, but I found I enjoyed it greatly. I hope you do, too. ;) Title taken from my current music, FYI.
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The lights were dim in Spock's quarters - technically, his new quarters, now that they were onboard the Enterprise 1701-A - and likewise, Dr. McCoy's circadian rhythm keyed him into the fact that it was nighttime, which he already knew, but was able to conclude that it was much later than when he was normally still awake. He felt drowsy, but he didn't want to go to sleep. Not quite yet.
"I'm sorry we couldn't've done this much sooner," he mumbled.
Spock felt the doctor curl up against him, bare skin pressing against his. "Not at all," he replied, his tone equally quiet. "There was a dire situation on Earth that required our immediate attention. Logic dictated that all other necessities be sacrificed."
"Oh, 'logic dictated it', huh?" McCoy looked amused as he propped one elbow against the mattress, to look down at his bedmate. "Seems like that's always our duty - week after week, it's up to us to be the knights in shining armor who drop out of the sky to save the day."
His blue eyes held such a delightful spark that Spock couldn't resist rising to the bait. "Once again, Leonard, your overuse of colorful metaphor wounds my senses."
"But you know you love it," McCoy replied with a grin, recognizing the fondness in that voice when he heard it. And when the Vulcan's eyebrow inched upwards at the comment, they both very well knew that confirmed it.
The doctor began to lean in to kiss him, but Spock momentarily turned his face away. There was still more to say first, that he'd wanted to say ever since the evening had begun. "I do feel an apology is in order, however," he said. "All that time I spent away from you while we were still on Vulcan, it was neglectful on my behalf when I knew that you needed me."
But the expression McCoy wore only melted at the attempt to make amends. "No, don't," he answered firmly. "The needs of the one, remember? You required the solitude for awhile to regain everything you'd lost. And I was willing to give you all the time you needed."
"That was very understanding of you, Leonard," Spock replied. "I cannot be more thankful for your sacrifice."
The comment honestly touched him, however, the doctor had to disagree again. "If it meant having you back, I would've given up anything I had to. It wasn't a sacrifice at all, Spock. Not at all."
At that the Vulcan's eyes softened considerably, and he reached his hand up to cradle the side of Dr. McCoy's face, palm pressing against his cool cheek and fingers threading through his graying hair. "I never should have left you," he whispered.
The warmth of Spock's pear-colored flesh made Leonard's skin tingle, for more reasons than one. "And you never really did," he replied, voice just as affectionate. He tapped the side of his head, the same way he had months ago, after the fal-tor-pan. "You never left me alone while you were up there, and I was so glad for it that at times it felt as if we were just one soul."
"Indeed we were, Leonard," Spock pointed out. "I don't remember very much about the period of time that my katra spent in your mind, but when I was reunited with my body, I realized that I knew you now in a way I never had before. Our thoughts will always be somewhat integrated now, because of it."
McCoy couldn't hold back a chuckle at that. "My dream come true. But my thoughts couldn't help but notice that your thoughts weren't entirely operating at full power, even when we were dealing with the whales. Spock, you need to tell me if you're still struggling with your memory, all right?"
"What would make you believe that I am?"
The doctor faltered slightly in his bedmate's grip, almost anxiously. "You seemed... hesitant, tonight. A few times, I was afraid you were still trying to remember who I was. As if you had forgotten us."
"First of all, I assure you that my memory is once again sound," Spock said determinedly, before his tone became gentle again. "Second of all... Leonard, after all that we have been though, after you have housed my katra, for you to think that I could ever forget you is most illogical."
At that McCoy beamed again. "If you're using that word, then I know it has to be true."
"How fascinating."
"What is?"
Spock tilted his head in thought. "For years, my invoking of logic during typical circumstances has always made you irascible with me. Yet, in the middle of this very... compromising position that we are in, it comforts you. The concept of irony, I have found, is such an irrational thing."
"I'll let you have that one." McCoy pillowed his head against Spock's chest, still smiling. "Because I don't know why it does, either."
After that, they were quiet for a long while, silence enveloping the room around them. Both of them basked in their closeness, taking pleasure in the warm touch of their body that they provided to each other. A considerable amount of time had passed when McCoy heard himself murmur, thinking out loud, "I still don't understand why you couldn't tell me what dying felt like."
When Spock answered, Leonard nearly jumped in surprise; he was so sure that the Vulcan had fallen asleep by now. "Your insistence on treading upon this 'philosophical ground', as you called it, is most disquieting."
"Doesn't it make sense to you why I'd be curious?" McCoy inquired, boosting himself up again to look at the other man. "I'm a doctor. All my life I've saved lives and lost lives. I've been trained to fight death, and then you turn around and do the impossible, Spock. If I have to die to understand, like you say, then I wouldn't need to ask in the first place, now would I?"
In the dim light, Spock gazed at him, something blazing in his eyes that McCoy couldn't identify right away. In the dark orbs it seemed as if a physical battle was taking place, and then the doctor finally realized. The battle wasn't between his logic, but his emotions - and that he had no trouble understanding. Abruptly he knew, without them having to share a word.
"... Why didn't you just say so?"
"I had assumed you felt the same way," Spock replied, allowing himself to yield to the moment. "I did not wish to dwell on it when I knew how difficult it was for you after it happened. In that event, I admit I was... surprised, when you asked. I have to admit... that I have no honest answer to give."
"Forgive me. I didn't realize."
But the Vulcan shook his head. "Do not apologize. You could not have known, when, as you said, I did not inform you."
In that instant, McCoy noticed he was imperceptibly caressing Spock's arm, and combined with the gravity of their conversation, a surge of raw emotion flowed through him. "You don't always have to be so prim and proper all the time, you know."
"But you know you love it."
The response nearly shocked him, yet when the doctor looked down at him again, he saw an honest-to-goodness smile - though slight as it was, it was still there - spreading across Spock's face. "There are occasions when I do find your diction to be rather... infectious, Leonard."
He recognized the rarity of such an emotional gesture from the man, that McCoy knew to appreciate it when it came. Without another thought, he leaned down and drew Spock into a deep, heady kiss, breathing a sweet, inward sigh of contentment when it was returned, every bit as tenderly.
After several long minutes, they broke apart, though still wrapped up in each other's grasp. Spock was the first to speak again.
"I find I need to correct one of your earlier statements," he said placidly.
McCoy's eyes filled with amusement again. "Which was?"
"You assessed that, after the fal-tor-pan, I necessitated time alone to regain everything I had lost. But I have come to the rational conclusion that both halves of that claim were faulty," he explained. "To retrieve the final part, I could not do alone. I only finally accomplished that tonight. With you, Leonard."
How did he do it? Take a perfectly warm, thoughtful sentiment and wrap it up in his trademark Vulcan logic. Maybe it should have annoyed McCoy's emotional, human self. And it usually always did. But it also took a keen mind to recognize the honest effort that Spock was putting out for him, and the doctor had nothing else if not that.
And at the moment, with the mood he was in, it sounded like downright poetry to his ears. As he pressed his lips against the Vulcan's again, arms going around him in a tight embrace, he uttered softly in reply, "Welcome home, Spock."
FINIS.
Rating: a strong PG-13, for suggestive themes.
Pairing: Spock/McCoy.
Word Count: ~1,500 words.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all.
Summary: The first week aboard the new Enterprise, Spock and McCoy take the opportunity to reacquaint themselves, and reflect on everything that has led them to this moment.
Author Notes: Complete and utter fluff. Takes place after the events of "Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home", and references events in "Star Trek III: The Search For Spock." Established relationship in this fic, which was a new step for me, but I found I enjoyed it greatly. I hope you do, too. ;) Title taken from my current music, FYI.
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The lights were dim in Spock's quarters - technically, his new quarters, now that they were onboard the Enterprise 1701-A - and likewise, Dr. McCoy's circadian rhythm keyed him into the fact that it was nighttime, which he already knew, but was able to conclude that it was much later than when he was normally still awake. He felt drowsy, but he didn't want to go to sleep. Not quite yet.
"I'm sorry we couldn't've done this much sooner," he mumbled.
Spock felt the doctor curl up against him, bare skin pressing against his. "Not at all," he replied, his tone equally quiet. "There was a dire situation on Earth that required our immediate attention. Logic dictated that all other necessities be sacrificed."
"Oh, 'logic dictated it', huh?" McCoy looked amused as he propped one elbow against the mattress, to look down at his bedmate. "Seems like that's always our duty - week after week, it's up to us to be the knights in shining armor who drop out of the sky to save the day."
His blue eyes held such a delightful spark that Spock couldn't resist rising to the bait. "Once again, Leonard, your overuse of colorful metaphor wounds my senses."
"But you know you love it," McCoy replied with a grin, recognizing the fondness in that voice when he heard it. And when the Vulcan's eyebrow inched upwards at the comment, they both very well knew that confirmed it.
The doctor began to lean in to kiss him, but Spock momentarily turned his face away. There was still more to say first, that he'd wanted to say ever since the evening had begun. "I do feel an apology is in order, however," he said. "All that time I spent away from you while we were still on Vulcan, it was neglectful on my behalf when I knew that you needed me."
But the expression McCoy wore only melted at the attempt to make amends. "No, don't," he answered firmly. "The needs of the one, remember? You required the solitude for awhile to regain everything you'd lost. And I was willing to give you all the time you needed."
"That was very understanding of you, Leonard," Spock replied. "I cannot be more thankful for your sacrifice."
The comment honestly touched him, however, the doctor had to disagree again. "If it meant having you back, I would've given up anything I had to. It wasn't a sacrifice at all, Spock. Not at all."
At that the Vulcan's eyes softened considerably, and he reached his hand up to cradle the side of Dr. McCoy's face, palm pressing against his cool cheek and fingers threading through his graying hair. "I never should have left you," he whispered.
The warmth of Spock's pear-colored flesh made Leonard's skin tingle, for more reasons than one. "And you never really did," he replied, voice just as affectionate. He tapped the side of his head, the same way he had months ago, after the fal-tor-pan. "You never left me alone while you were up there, and I was so glad for it that at times it felt as if we were just one soul."
"Indeed we were, Leonard," Spock pointed out. "I don't remember very much about the period of time that my katra spent in your mind, but when I was reunited with my body, I realized that I knew you now in a way I never had before. Our thoughts will always be somewhat integrated now, because of it."
McCoy couldn't hold back a chuckle at that. "My dream come true. But my thoughts couldn't help but notice that your thoughts weren't entirely operating at full power, even when we were dealing with the whales. Spock, you need to tell me if you're still struggling with your memory, all right?"
"What would make you believe that I am?"
The doctor faltered slightly in his bedmate's grip, almost anxiously. "You seemed... hesitant, tonight. A few times, I was afraid you were still trying to remember who I was. As if you had forgotten us."
"First of all, I assure you that my memory is once again sound," Spock said determinedly, before his tone became gentle again. "Second of all... Leonard, after all that we have been though, after you have housed my katra, for you to think that I could ever forget you is most illogical."
At that McCoy beamed again. "If you're using that word, then I know it has to be true."
"How fascinating."
"What is?"
Spock tilted his head in thought. "For years, my invoking of logic during typical circumstances has always made you irascible with me. Yet, in the middle of this very... compromising position that we are in, it comforts you. The concept of irony, I have found, is such an irrational thing."
"I'll let you have that one." McCoy pillowed his head against Spock's chest, still smiling. "Because I don't know why it does, either."
After that, they were quiet for a long while, silence enveloping the room around them. Both of them basked in their closeness, taking pleasure in the warm touch of their body that they provided to each other. A considerable amount of time had passed when McCoy heard himself murmur, thinking out loud, "I still don't understand why you couldn't tell me what dying felt like."
When Spock answered, Leonard nearly jumped in surprise; he was so sure that the Vulcan had fallen asleep by now. "Your insistence on treading upon this 'philosophical ground', as you called it, is most disquieting."
"Doesn't it make sense to you why I'd be curious?" McCoy inquired, boosting himself up again to look at the other man. "I'm a doctor. All my life I've saved lives and lost lives. I've been trained to fight death, and then you turn around and do the impossible, Spock. If I have to die to understand, like you say, then I wouldn't need to ask in the first place, now would I?"
In the dim light, Spock gazed at him, something blazing in his eyes that McCoy couldn't identify right away. In the dark orbs it seemed as if a physical battle was taking place, and then the doctor finally realized. The battle wasn't between his logic, but his emotions - and that he had no trouble understanding. Abruptly he knew, without them having to share a word.
"... Why didn't you just say so?"
"I had assumed you felt the same way," Spock replied, allowing himself to yield to the moment. "I did not wish to dwell on it when I knew how difficult it was for you after it happened. In that event, I admit I was... surprised, when you asked. I have to admit... that I have no honest answer to give."
"Forgive me. I didn't realize."
But the Vulcan shook his head. "Do not apologize. You could not have known, when, as you said, I did not inform you."
In that instant, McCoy noticed he was imperceptibly caressing Spock's arm, and combined with the gravity of their conversation, a surge of raw emotion flowed through him. "You don't always have to be so prim and proper all the time, you know."
"But you know you love it."
The response nearly shocked him, yet when the doctor looked down at him again, he saw an honest-to-goodness smile - though slight as it was, it was still there - spreading across Spock's face. "There are occasions when I do find your diction to be rather... infectious, Leonard."
He recognized the rarity of such an emotional gesture from the man, that McCoy knew to appreciate it when it came. Without another thought, he leaned down and drew Spock into a deep, heady kiss, breathing a sweet, inward sigh of contentment when it was returned, every bit as tenderly.
After several long minutes, they broke apart, though still wrapped up in each other's grasp. Spock was the first to speak again.
"I find I need to correct one of your earlier statements," he said placidly.
McCoy's eyes filled with amusement again. "Which was?"
"You assessed that, after the fal-tor-pan, I necessitated time alone to regain everything I had lost. But I have come to the rational conclusion that both halves of that claim were faulty," he explained. "To retrieve the final part, I could not do alone. I only finally accomplished that tonight. With you, Leonard."
How did he do it? Take a perfectly warm, thoughtful sentiment and wrap it up in his trademark Vulcan logic. Maybe it should have annoyed McCoy's emotional, human self. And it usually always did. But it also took a keen mind to recognize the honest effort that Spock was putting out for him, and the doctor had nothing else if not that.
And at the moment, with the mood he was in, it sounded like downright poetry to his ears. As he pressed his lips against the Vulcan's again, arms going around him in a tight embrace, he uttered softly in reply, "Welcome home, Spock."
FINIS.