Title: Morning in Between Rating: G Pairing: Spock/McCoy
“Vulcans cannot get drunk from alcohol.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Therefore, we do not suffer the after effects of too much alcohol consumed the night before.”
“Aren’t you lucky?”
“Since humans do, and very well know that they do, and judging from the general mood of the crew do not enjoy the feeling, I do not understand why so few take caution when it comes to the amount of alcohol they consume.”
McCoy groaned. “It was a hell of a party, Spock. We had fun. No one wants to think of the consequences when they have fun.” That was how he had come to be, after all, even if his mother had always denied it.
Spock was silent for a moment. “There appears to have been unusual many occurrences of stomach sickness last night.”
“There still are. My stomach is one of those feeling sick. But considering the party we had, it’s not unusual at all.”
“Are you going to be sick on my boots again?”
McCoy turned, confused. “I was sick on your boots?”
“You do not remember?”
“I don’t think I want to. Sorry about that. When was that?”
“When I escorted you to your bed.”
“You did what?” The Doctor turned away again because he was fairly certain he was blushing. He also felt sicker that before.
“You appeared to be somewhat unsteady on your feet.”
“Well, like I said, I was having a good time.” Most of them were. They were happy to finally come home after five long years in space, and drank to that. Though some of them also drank to forget that a part of their life was coming to an end, and McCoy wasn’t sure which group he belonged to.
Or Spock. Except, of course, that Spock hadn’t gotten drunk.
“I didn’t do anything improper while I was drunk, did I?” the soon-to-be ex-CMO of the Enterprise asked, because he honestly couldn’t remember. There was a big black hole where his memory was supposed to be, and he was too familiar with it not to suspect that be might belong to the second group after all, and that Spock had a little bit to do with that.
“You did not. The Captain, however, attempted to engage both of us in sexual activities when we were about to leave the mess hall.”
Despite himself, McCoy giggled; a silly, immature sound. “Well, since we were having fun and not minding the consequences, we’re lucky to have escaped without producing a quarter… third…” He gave up when his aching brain failed to calculate how much Vulcan an offspring of the three of them would be. “Never mind.”
“I do not mind,” Spock said generously, and added, “Also, it would be genetically impossible.”
McCoy rolled his eyes, even as he wondered if he felt sick because of the mental image, or because in half a day he might never have to roll his eyes at Spock again. “You don’t say. Anyway, thanks for your help. And sorry for the inconvenience.”
“It was not inconvenient,” Spock said, and kissed him.
Taken by surprise and more than a little shocked, McCoy missed the opportunity to kiss back.
“Spock…” he began when it was over, didn’t know how to go on, wondered if he should pull the Vulcan close for another kiss. Spock tilted his head, his face giving away nothing.
“I might have to apologise for that. I do, however, believe tradition demands a kiss under these circumstances.” And he turned and walked away before the human could ask him what circumstances he was talking about, or what exactly was going on. McCoy only knew that his heart was pounding, that he wasn’t feeling sick anymore, and that perhaps the loss he had been trying to forget the night before would never come.
Suddenly, there was a very real possibility of the change he was facing being for the better.
Standing in his empty office, still speechless, Leonard McCoy began to smile.
I see what you meant about the happy/sad ending. Love that you chose to leave it w/ the sad ending, though. :D (not everyone gets a happy ending, after all.)
Rating: G
Pairing: Spock/McCoy
“Vulcans cannot get drunk from alcohol.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Therefore, we do not suffer the after effects of too much alcohol consumed the night before.”
“Aren’t you lucky?”
“Since humans do, and very well know that they do, and judging from the general mood of the crew do not enjoy the feeling, I do not understand why so few take caution when it comes to the amount of alcohol they consume.”
McCoy groaned. “It was a hell of a party, Spock. We had fun. No one wants to think of the consequences when they have fun.” That was how he had come to be, after all, even if his mother had always denied it.
Spock was silent for a moment. “There appears to have been unusual many occurrences of stomach sickness last night.”
“There still are. My stomach is one of those feeling sick. But considering the party we had, it’s not unusual at all.”
“Are you going to be sick on my boots again?”
McCoy turned, confused. “I was sick on your boots?”
“You do not remember?”
“I don’t think I want to. Sorry about that. When was that?”
“When I escorted you to your bed.”
“You did what?” The Doctor turned away again because he was fairly certain he was blushing. He also felt sicker that before.
“You appeared to be somewhat unsteady on your feet.”
“Well, like I said, I was having a good time.” Most of them were. They were happy to finally come home after five long years in space, and drank to that. Though some of them also drank to forget that a part of their life was coming to an end, and McCoy wasn’t sure which group he belonged to.
Or Spock. Except, of course, that Spock hadn’t gotten drunk.
“I didn’t do anything improper while I was drunk, did I?” the soon-to-be ex-CMO of the Enterprise asked, because he honestly couldn’t remember. There was a big black hole where his memory was supposed to be, and he was too familiar with it not to suspect that be might belong to the second group after all, and that Spock had a little bit to do with that.
“You did not. The Captain, however, attempted to engage both of us in sexual activities when we were about to leave the mess hall.”
Despite himself, McCoy giggled; a silly, immature sound. “Well, since we were having fun and not minding the consequences, we’re lucky to have escaped without producing a quarter… third…” He gave up when his aching brain failed to calculate how much Vulcan an offspring of the three of them would be. “Never mind.”
“I do not mind,” Spock said generously, and added, “Also, it would be genetically impossible.”
McCoy rolled his eyes, even as he wondered if he felt sick because of the mental image, or because in half a day he might never have to roll his eyes at Spock again. “You don’t say. Anyway, thanks for your help. And sorry for the inconvenience.”
“It was not inconvenient,” Spock said, and kissed him.
Taken by surprise and more than a little shocked, McCoy missed the opportunity to kiss back.
“Spock…” he began when it was over, didn’t know how to go on, wondered if he should pull the Vulcan close for another kiss. Spock tilted his head, his face giving away nothing.
“I might have to apologise for that. I do, however, believe tradition demands a kiss under these circumstances.” And he turned and walked away before the human could ask him what circumstances he was talking about, or what exactly was going on. McCoy only knew that his heart was pounding, that he wasn’t feeling sick anymore, and that perhaps the loss he had been trying to forget the night before would never come.
Suddenly, there was a very real possibility of the change he was facing being for the better.
Standing in his empty office, still speechless, Leonard McCoy began to smile.
-
One day later, Spock left for Gol.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
*joins group hug*
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
(Though honestly I was secretly rooting for the 1/3 vulcan baby girl/boy (XXX or XXY or XYY). ^_^)
Reply
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
Leave a comment