Star Trek/ Star Trek RPF Fic: Not in LA anymore, ZQ (2/3)
Part One
~*~
When Spock and Kirk leave the sickbay, Zach turns to McCoy with a smile on his face. It had been an odd thing, being pulled into Spock’s mind, but it leaves him in no doubt that one of two things has happened. Either he really has been pulled into an alternative universe, or he’s gone seriously mad. Either way, there’s nothing he can do about it, so he’s decided to just go along with the first option.
It had been odd, in Spock’s head. Organised and calm, with an undercurrent of pure emotion, tightly leashed. He’d tried to express understanding, and was amazed when Spock reacted with appreciation. He’d seen snippets of the life he’d studied, watched, and given over some of his own. Mostly about his time on set, advertising Star Trek, but also some personal things; the history he’d drawn on to understand Spock’s role.
And then they’d been pulled apart and now here he was, sat on an actual bed, in an actual spaceship, next to the actual Leonard McCoy. It’s pretty awesome.
“So,” he asks, looking into the familiar face. “What’s the next step, doc?”
McCoy frowns. “One, call me Leonard. Two, are you sure your head’s ok?”
He nods. “Yup. I’m just fine.” He peers around McCoy, trying to get a proper look around the sickbay. “Are you going to give me a tour?”
“After I make sure you’re healthy enough from your travels,” McCoy replies, and then continues on with his exams until he’s apparently satisfied that Zach’s not hiding any spores or space viruses.
“All clear?” he asks and McCoy nods.
“Seems that way.” Zach grins and jumps up from the bed.
“Good. Does that mean that I can visit the bridge now?” he asks, and receives McCoy’s most unimpressed face and eyebrow lift.
“Not quite yet,” he replies. “If you behave then maybe Jim’ll let you on later. Until then, you get to visit less important areas of the ship.”
It made sense, but Zach couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “Can I go somewhere where I can see the stars?” he asks, trying to keep the dissatisfaction from his voice. From McCoy’s knowing look, he didn’t succeed.
“Observation deck alright?” McCoy asks, already moving towards the door. He’s got the same rushed gait as Karl-as-McCoy, and it’s like a flash of déjà vu. Something tells Zach he’ll be getting that feeling more and more, especially when they reach the corridor and the people walking past. It’s just like the corridor set, and the people walking around look familiar, as though he’s just looking at the extras, and he pauses for a moment, pulls of his glasses and pinches the top of his nose.
A hand grips his shoulder as another grips his chin, tips his head back. He opens his eyes and finds Karl’s eyes looking at him with McCoy’s concern. “You alright?” he asks, and Zach nods, pulls away.
“Just major déjà vu,” he says, hopefully reassuringly, and lets his eyes follow the red-clothed form of the security guard known as cupcake walk past them, a curious look on his face. “Think I might be dealing with it for a while.”
“Understandable,” McCoy says, gruff again, and then with one more sharp look, he starts leading the way again.
They walk in silence for a while, traversing the ship, until McCoy breaks it. “So, how much do you know about me?” The question is apparently light-hearted, but Zach recognises the tone. He’s got something of an unfair advantage at reading this crew, he realises. Understandings of the characters based on take after take, on talking about motivation and delivery.
“A fair amount,” he says, equally lightly. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone there’s a big softy underneath all that bluster.” McCoy turns to look at him with a frown and Zach grins at him, bumps his shoulder against McCoy’s blue-clad one. “Was it a secret?” he asks, and he can see something like amusement in the doctor’s eyes.
~*~
McCoy looks into Zach’s sparkling eyes, and finds himself almost glad Spock is an unemotional being. If he had to deal with jokes and comments and sly grins from him all day, he very much doubts that he’d get anything of worth done. He forces himself not to melt into a puddle and grin happily at Zach. He’s a doctor, dammit. Not a prepubescent girl.
“It is a secret,” he confirms as they turn another corner, since there’s obviously no need to hide it from this man who knows all about them. “Don’t need to give Jim any more buttons to press.”
“Big blue eyes a common weapon then?” Zach asks, and it sounds like he’s familiar with the concept. McCoy nods. “Chris, the guy who plays Kirk, he’s just the same. Bats his eyelids, throws out a few big words, and he’ll have anyone he wants as putty in his hands.”
It sounds remarkably like Kirk picking up one of his various conquests, and McCoy looks at Zach curiously. “How about you? That trick pull you in?”
Zach slants a glance in his direction, and it causes heat to curl in McCoy’s stomach. “I’m more partial to hazel eyes, myself,” he replies, voice low. “Give me those and a nice accent and then I might start to melt.”
McCoy swallows once at the gravely tone, and then forces himself to seem unaffected. “Good to know,” he replies, letting his voice become more southern than usual, and sees something like respect flare in Zach’s eyes. Then they turn into the observation desk and the moment is lost as Zach catches a glimpse of the stars and walks towards the window, eyes wide.
“Wow,” is all he says, and presses both his long fingered hands against the reinforced material. “We’re really out in space.”
McCoy moves to stand next to him, attention split between the view and the man at his side. From this position he could almost be stood next to Spock, enjoying companionable silence rather than arguing about anything and nothing.
Zach turns to look at him again, this time his face creased with worry. “Are you sure you don’t mind being here? What with your aviaphobia and everything? Looking out into space can’t be helping it any.”
McCoy feels a flash of surprise before remembering, oh yeah. Zach knows a lot about them. He shrugs and turns his gaze back to the cool darkness of space. “It’s not so bad now,” he replies, watching the stars glint as their light zooms past the ship. “Nowhere near as bad as on my first journey to Starfleet.”
“Good,” Zach murmurs, then shoots McCoy a smile. “I’d hate for you to throw up on me.”
McCoy barks out a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m in control of my stomach at the moment. Just keep quiet about anything you know about Jim’s sex life and I’ll stay that way.”
“Deal,” Zach agrees.
They stand in silence for a while, just watching the sky, when McCoy asks something he’s been wondering since he found out Zach played Spock. “So, how did they give you the eyebrows?” he asks, and as he watches Zach runs his fingers over his prominent brows, as though checking they were still there.
“They shaved off three quarters of them,” he replies, and he doesn’t sound happy about it. “Then filled in the edges every morning with individual hairs.”
“Ouch,” McCoy commiserates, and Zach nods.
“What with that and the epic ear prosthetics I was in the make-up chair about two hours a day,” he continues, and then turns to McCoy with that apparently constant grin, white teeth glinting. “Good job there wasn’t much else they had to do to make me beautiful.”
McCoy rolls his eyes and is about to retort, but is stopped by Spock’s voice, neutral and identical to Zach’s, only without the warmth, cutting in.
“Excuse me, Mr Quinto, Doctor McCoy. I was wondering if our guest would be willing to sate some of my curiosities,” he says, and walks towards them. His voice is a placid as always, and his gaze is locked onto Zach’s face. Must be odd, McCoy reflects, to see the emotions you hide so well just out there for everyone to see.
Zach looks at him, questioningly, and McCoy nods his assent. No need for Zach to be in his company anymore, after all, since he was just fine, health wise. And it looked like he was eager to speak to the Vulcan, so who was he to pull them apart. “Take him away, Spock,” he replies, “and allocate him some quarters as well.”
The first officer pulls his uniform top down, straightening it, and nods. As he turns on his heel Zach steps forward, obviously aware that Spock wants him to follow, and shoots a smile over his shoulder as he walks away. McCoy thinks he mouths something like ‘see you later,’ but he can’t be sure, because his attention is suddenly gripped by watching them walk away.
They have the same body, but even from behind they are studies in opposites. Spock is walking ramrod straight as always, spine at full attention, hands clasped behind his back. By contrast, Zach is slightly hunched, hands in his pocket, gait more fluid than his rigid counterpart. The tight jeans highlight the long, slender legs that Spock’s uniform turn into something slightly bulkier, and his t-shirt clings to Zach’s shoulders in a way Spock’s perfectly fitting uniform doesn’t quite manage. All in all, it’s a great example of ‘what you didn’t know was under Spock’s uniform, but will now never be able to forget,’ and he shakes his head before making his way back to sickbay.
Actors. Even in alternate universes they were still apparently nothing but trouble.
~*~
Spock’s quarters are very warm, and he exhales at the shock as the heat hits him.
“I apologise, Mr Quinto,” Spock says in that low voice, and reaches over his shoulder to press something on the wall behind Zach. The temperature drops slightly and Zach sighs in relief.
“Thanks, Spock,” he says and then moves further around the room, unable to stop himself from taking in the details. It looks like an updated version of Spock’s quarters in the original series; red cloth on the walls, a lyre on the floor; minimalist but lived in. Then he feels a gaze on the back of his head and turns around, face flushing, to see Spock looking at him with one eyebrow raised and an amused look in his eyes.
“Sorry,” he says. “Just... curious.”
“I would have expected you to be aware of the appearance of my quarters, since you spend so much time masquerading of me,” Spock replies as he gestures towards a chair.
Zach sits. “You didn’t have quarters the last time I played you,” he replies easily. “But it’s nice to know what they’ll look like for the next film.”
Spock inclines his head and they fall into an easy silence. Spock’s not one for small talk, and Zach doesn’t feel like trying to force anything out of him. One, it would be rude. Two, Spock isn’t exactly the type to crack under conversational pressure.
“If you do not mind, I have some queries as to your... portrayal of myself in your entertainment show.”
Zach nods, shifts slightly in his seat getting comfortable. “Shoot.” Spock opens his mouth with a slight downturn of his lips, and Zach rolls his eyes. “It’s an idiom, Spock, which I suspect you know. It means, by all means Spock, ask away.”
“From your mind, it seems you discussed and studied my mental make-up in some detail during your preparation for... being me.”
His face is curious, maybe because he recognised Leonard in Zach’s memories and wondered who he was. “Yeah, but I’m really just the new kid on the block.”
Spock looks around the room and then back towards Zach. “I see no block, and you appear to have reached adulthood.”
“Spock,” Zach says, unimpressed, and Spock tips his head slightly, conceding the point, obviously realising that he’s not going to fool Zach. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?”
Spock is silent for a moment, and then he steeples his fingers in front of his face. “I was curious regarding your viewpoint on my... balancing emotions with logic.”
Zach shift in his chair. So, Spock went right for the serious topic. He didn’t know why he was surprised - he wasn't one for chit-chat. “How long has it been?” he asks instead of answering, and at Spock’s questioning brow lift, he carries on. “Since Vulcan?”
Spock’s lips tighten, but he shows no other external move to hint at the emotions the question has no doubt created within him. “Two years, seven months and three days, according to the terran calendar.”
Zach leans forward slightly. “I grieve with thee, Spock,” he says softly, and sees the Vulcan’s face loosen slightly. “I only ask because the loss of your planet, your mother, will obviously affect how your emotions should be dealt with.”
“That seems logical,” Spock replies, and Zach can’t hide a smile at the familiar word. Instead of commenting, he leans forward, ready to impart everything he and Leonard talked about regarding creating a more balanced, in touch with his emotions Spock.
~*~
The next time McCoy sees Zach beyond just a quick nod hello, or a check up as he’s passed between the crew, he’s sat at a table in the mess, surrounded by the rest of the alpha bridge crew. He’s smiling at something Sulu has said, eyes sparkling, and has a bowl of something which looks like plomeek soup in front of him. McCoy grabs some food from the replicator and takes a seat on the table.
“And then he got hit in the face with flower spores that made him speak in rhyme for three days,” Sulu is saying, and the rest of the table, minus Spock and Chekov, all start laughing. Zach’s hand comes up to cover his mouth, mirth escaping around his fingers.
“Awesome,” Zach says, eyes on the blushing ensign. “How did you work like that?”
Chekov straightens in his seat. “Since poetry was invented in Russia, I had little problem adapting,” he says as seriously as he can, and it makes the table laugh all over again.
“Hi, Leonard,” Zach greets him after he’s calmed down, and McCoy grins around the bite of food in his mouth. “Been busy?”
Kirk makes a frantic slashing noise across his throat at the question, and McCoy throws him a glare before answering. “If you think dealing with stupid kids who couldn’t even wipe their own noses without busting their noses open would keep me busy, then yeah.”
Zach looks at him with a straight face, although his eyes are sparkling. “Sounds like it would keep you busy,” he nods, and then eats a spoonful of the soup in front of him. He lets it sit in his mouth for a moment and then swallows and turns to Spock. “This is pretty good,” he says, sounding almost surprised.
Spock nods. “It is rewarding to have someone on board this ship who can appreciate the flavours of such a delicacy,” Spock says, and Kirk rolls his eyes.
“Delicacy? Well it’s certainly an acquired taste!” he says, and Spock almost honest to god frowns. His lips tighten and his eyes narrow, and it‘s the most emotion McCoy has seen on Spock’s face since he almost choked Kirk to death.
“And yet Zachary had managed to acquire the taste so hastily,” Spock replies. He arches a brow, and his face suddenly gains a subtle, but obvious, teasing expression. “Perhaps your dislike of the soup speaks more about you and your questionable palate, then the meal itself?”
McCoy honestly doesn’t know what shocks him more. The almost-emotion on Spock’s face, the way he’s bantering with Kirk, or the fact he’s known Zach only two days and is using his actual name. He’s know Spock more than two years, and he’s still ‘doctor.’ He looks at Zach questioningly, and receives a knowing smile in return. He’s obviously not telling what’s changed with the Vulcan, but whatever they talked about has done something to loosen the hold he usually keeps on himself.
“Yeah, Kirk,” Zach grins after another spoonful of soup. “Are you sure it’s just not too refined for you?”
Kirk scoffs. “As if,” he says, and takes a huge bite from the burger in front of him. “I’m very cultured,” he says with a full mouth, and Zach and Spock both scrunch their noses at the sight. It’s very odd, yet very cute. McCoy has to hide a smile.
Uhura doesn’t bother. “That makes four identical reactions,” she says, pointing one delicate finger at the pair. “You really are similar.”
“I did put a lot of myself into Spock,” Zach says, in a voice just this side of modest, and Kirk spits out a hunk of burger he laughs so hard in response. Zach shoots back in his chair so he isn’t hit by it, and his spoon catches on the bowl in front of him. It tips onto the table and about a quarter of the liquid bounces off and onto Zach’s shirt.
“Ow,” he yelps, standing up and pulling the top away from his chest. As McCoy stands up, ready to check on the damage, he’s pulling the top off, and by the time he’s reached the man Zach is topless, prodding the slightly red patch on his chest.
McCoy ignores the large expanse of tempting pale skin surrounding the ‘injury,’ and looks at it for a long moment before nodding his head. “Its fine,” he says, aware his voice is gruff and the tips of his ears are burning. “But you best go and find a new top.”
Zach nods, distracted, and makes his way out of the mess, clearly unaware of the many eyes which are following the progress of his tightly muscled body. When he manages to pull his gaze away himself from the shift of muscles underneath Zach’s skin, he finds everyone but Spock and Kirk watching him leave with various levels of concentration. Spock is continuing to eat his salad, obviously unaffected that he’s effectively being ogled by the entire crew. Kirk is looking at McCoy with knowing, sparkling eyes, and McCoy gives him a scowl before he turns back to his meal.
Part 3
~*~
When Spock and Kirk leave the sickbay, Zach turns to McCoy with a smile on his face. It had been an odd thing, being pulled into Spock’s mind, but it leaves him in no doubt that one of two things has happened. Either he really has been pulled into an alternative universe, or he’s gone seriously mad. Either way, there’s nothing he can do about it, so he’s decided to just go along with the first option.
It had been odd, in Spock’s head. Organised and calm, with an undercurrent of pure emotion, tightly leashed. He’d tried to express understanding, and was amazed when Spock reacted with appreciation. He’d seen snippets of the life he’d studied, watched, and given over some of his own. Mostly about his time on set, advertising Star Trek, but also some personal things; the history he’d drawn on to understand Spock’s role.
And then they’d been pulled apart and now here he was, sat on an actual bed, in an actual spaceship, next to the actual Leonard McCoy. It’s pretty awesome.
“So,” he asks, looking into the familiar face. “What’s the next step, doc?”
McCoy frowns. “One, call me Leonard. Two, are you sure your head’s ok?”
He nods. “Yup. I’m just fine.” He peers around McCoy, trying to get a proper look around the sickbay. “Are you going to give me a tour?”
“After I make sure you’re healthy enough from your travels,” McCoy replies, and then continues on with his exams until he’s apparently satisfied that Zach’s not hiding any spores or space viruses.
“All clear?” he asks and McCoy nods.
“Seems that way.” Zach grins and jumps up from the bed.
“Good. Does that mean that I can visit the bridge now?” he asks, and receives McCoy’s most unimpressed face and eyebrow lift.
“Not quite yet,” he replies. “If you behave then maybe Jim’ll let you on later. Until then, you get to visit less important areas of the ship.”
It made sense, but Zach couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “Can I go somewhere where I can see the stars?” he asks, trying to keep the dissatisfaction from his voice. From McCoy’s knowing look, he didn’t succeed.
“Observation deck alright?” McCoy asks, already moving towards the door. He’s got the same rushed gait as Karl-as-McCoy, and it’s like a flash of déjà vu. Something tells Zach he’ll be getting that feeling more and more, especially when they reach the corridor and the people walking past. It’s just like the corridor set, and the people walking around look familiar, as though he’s just looking at the extras, and he pauses for a moment, pulls of his glasses and pinches the top of his nose.
A hand grips his shoulder as another grips his chin, tips his head back. He opens his eyes and finds Karl’s eyes looking at him with McCoy’s concern. “You alright?” he asks, and Zach nods, pulls away.
“Just major déjà vu,” he says, hopefully reassuringly, and lets his eyes follow the red-clothed form of the security guard known as cupcake walk past them, a curious look on his face. “Think I might be dealing with it for a while.”
“Understandable,” McCoy says, gruff again, and then with one more sharp look, he starts leading the way again.
They walk in silence for a while, traversing the ship, until McCoy breaks it. “So, how much do you know about me?” The question is apparently light-hearted, but Zach recognises the tone. He’s got something of an unfair advantage at reading this crew, he realises. Understandings of the characters based on take after take, on talking about motivation and delivery.
“A fair amount,” he says, equally lightly. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone there’s a big softy underneath all that bluster.” McCoy turns to look at him with a frown and Zach grins at him, bumps his shoulder against McCoy’s blue-clad one. “Was it a secret?” he asks, and he can see something like amusement in the doctor’s eyes.
~*~
McCoy looks into Zach’s sparkling eyes, and finds himself almost glad Spock is an unemotional being. If he had to deal with jokes and comments and sly grins from him all day, he very much doubts that he’d get anything of worth done. He forces himself not to melt into a puddle and grin happily at Zach. He’s a doctor, dammit. Not a prepubescent girl.
“It is a secret,” he confirms as they turn another corner, since there’s obviously no need to hide it from this man who knows all about them. “Don’t need to give Jim any more buttons to press.”
“Big blue eyes a common weapon then?” Zach asks, and it sounds like he’s familiar with the concept. McCoy nods. “Chris, the guy who plays Kirk, he’s just the same. Bats his eyelids, throws out a few big words, and he’ll have anyone he wants as putty in his hands.”
It sounds remarkably like Kirk picking up one of his various conquests, and McCoy looks at Zach curiously. “How about you? That trick pull you in?”
Zach slants a glance in his direction, and it causes heat to curl in McCoy’s stomach. “I’m more partial to hazel eyes, myself,” he replies, voice low. “Give me those and a nice accent and then I might start to melt.”
McCoy swallows once at the gravely tone, and then forces himself to seem unaffected. “Good to know,” he replies, letting his voice become more southern than usual, and sees something like respect flare in Zach’s eyes. Then they turn into the observation desk and the moment is lost as Zach catches a glimpse of the stars and walks towards the window, eyes wide.
“Wow,” is all he says, and presses both his long fingered hands against the reinforced material. “We’re really out in space.”
McCoy moves to stand next to him, attention split between the view and the man at his side. From this position he could almost be stood next to Spock, enjoying companionable silence rather than arguing about anything and nothing.
Zach turns to look at him again, this time his face creased with worry. “Are you sure you don’t mind being here? What with your aviaphobia and everything? Looking out into space can’t be helping it any.”
McCoy feels a flash of surprise before remembering, oh yeah. Zach knows a lot about them. He shrugs and turns his gaze back to the cool darkness of space. “It’s not so bad now,” he replies, watching the stars glint as their light zooms past the ship. “Nowhere near as bad as on my first journey to Starfleet.”
“Good,” Zach murmurs, then shoots McCoy a smile. “I’d hate for you to throw up on me.”
McCoy barks out a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m in control of my stomach at the moment. Just keep quiet about anything you know about Jim’s sex life and I’ll stay that way.”
“Deal,” Zach agrees.
They stand in silence for a while, just watching the sky, when McCoy asks something he’s been wondering since he found out Zach played Spock. “So, how did they give you the eyebrows?” he asks, and as he watches Zach runs his fingers over his prominent brows, as though checking they were still there.
“They shaved off three quarters of them,” he replies, and he doesn’t sound happy about it. “Then filled in the edges every morning with individual hairs.”
“Ouch,” McCoy commiserates, and Zach nods.
“What with that and the epic ear prosthetics I was in the make-up chair about two hours a day,” he continues, and then turns to McCoy with that apparently constant grin, white teeth glinting. “Good job there wasn’t much else they had to do to make me beautiful.”
McCoy rolls his eyes and is about to retort, but is stopped by Spock’s voice, neutral and identical to Zach’s, only without the warmth, cutting in.
“Excuse me, Mr Quinto, Doctor McCoy. I was wondering if our guest would be willing to sate some of my curiosities,” he says, and walks towards them. His voice is a placid as always, and his gaze is locked onto Zach’s face. Must be odd, McCoy reflects, to see the emotions you hide so well just out there for everyone to see.
Zach looks at him, questioningly, and McCoy nods his assent. No need for Zach to be in his company anymore, after all, since he was just fine, health wise. And it looked like he was eager to speak to the Vulcan, so who was he to pull them apart. “Take him away, Spock,” he replies, “and allocate him some quarters as well.”
The first officer pulls his uniform top down, straightening it, and nods. As he turns on his heel Zach steps forward, obviously aware that Spock wants him to follow, and shoots a smile over his shoulder as he walks away. McCoy thinks he mouths something like ‘see you later,’ but he can’t be sure, because his attention is suddenly gripped by watching them walk away.
They have the same body, but even from behind they are studies in opposites. Spock is walking ramrod straight as always, spine at full attention, hands clasped behind his back. By contrast, Zach is slightly hunched, hands in his pocket, gait more fluid than his rigid counterpart. The tight jeans highlight the long, slender legs that Spock’s uniform turn into something slightly bulkier, and his t-shirt clings to Zach’s shoulders in a way Spock’s perfectly fitting uniform doesn’t quite manage. All in all, it’s a great example of ‘what you didn’t know was under Spock’s uniform, but will now never be able to forget,’ and he shakes his head before making his way back to sickbay.
Actors. Even in alternate universes they were still apparently nothing but trouble.
~*~
Spock’s quarters are very warm, and he exhales at the shock as the heat hits him.
“I apologise, Mr Quinto,” Spock says in that low voice, and reaches over his shoulder to press something on the wall behind Zach. The temperature drops slightly and Zach sighs in relief.
“Thanks, Spock,” he says and then moves further around the room, unable to stop himself from taking in the details. It looks like an updated version of Spock’s quarters in the original series; red cloth on the walls, a lyre on the floor; minimalist but lived in. Then he feels a gaze on the back of his head and turns around, face flushing, to see Spock looking at him with one eyebrow raised and an amused look in his eyes.
“Sorry,” he says. “Just... curious.”
“I would have expected you to be aware of the appearance of my quarters, since you spend so much time masquerading of me,” Spock replies as he gestures towards a chair.
Zach sits. “You didn’t have quarters the last time I played you,” he replies easily. “But it’s nice to know what they’ll look like for the next film.”
Spock inclines his head and they fall into an easy silence. Spock’s not one for small talk, and Zach doesn’t feel like trying to force anything out of him. One, it would be rude. Two, Spock isn’t exactly the type to crack under conversational pressure.
“If you do not mind, I have some queries as to your... portrayal of myself in your entertainment show.”
Zach nods, shifts slightly in his seat getting comfortable. “Shoot.” Spock opens his mouth with a slight downturn of his lips, and Zach rolls his eyes. “It’s an idiom, Spock, which I suspect you know. It means, by all means Spock, ask away.”
“From your mind, it seems you discussed and studied my mental make-up in some detail during your preparation for... being me.”
His face is curious, maybe because he recognised Leonard in Zach’s memories and wondered who he was. “Yeah, but I’m really just the new kid on the block.”
Spock looks around the room and then back towards Zach. “I see no block, and you appear to have reached adulthood.”
“Spock,” Zach says, unimpressed, and Spock tips his head slightly, conceding the point, obviously realising that he’s not going to fool Zach. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?”
Spock is silent for a moment, and then he steeples his fingers in front of his face. “I was curious regarding your viewpoint on my... balancing emotions with logic.”
Zach shift in his chair. So, Spock went right for the serious topic. He didn’t know why he was surprised - he wasn't one for chit-chat. “How long has it been?” he asks instead of answering, and at Spock’s questioning brow lift, he carries on. “Since Vulcan?”
Spock’s lips tighten, but he shows no other external move to hint at the emotions the question has no doubt created within him. “Two years, seven months and three days, according to the terran calendar.”
Zach leans forward slightly. “I grieve with thee, Spock,” he says softly, and sees the Vulcan’s face loosen slightly. “I only ask because the loss of your planet, your mother, will obviously affect how your emotions should be dealt with.”
“That seems logical,” Spock replies, and Zach can’t hide a smile at the familiar word. Instead of commenting, he leans forward, ready to impart everything he and Leonard talked about regarding creating a more balanced, in touch with his emotions Spock.
~*~
The next time McCoy sees Zach beyond just a quick nod hello, or a check up as he’s passed between the crew, he’s sat at a table in the mess, surrounded by the rest of the alpha bridge crew. He’s smiling at something Sulu has said, eyes sparkling, and has a bowl of something which looks like plomeek soup in front of him. McCoy grabs some food from the replicator and takes a seat on the table.
“And then he got hit in the face with flower spores that made him speak in rhyme for three days,” Sulu is saying, and the rest of the table, minus Spock and Chekov, all start laughing. Zach’s hand comes up to cover his mouth, mirth escaping around his fingers.
“Awesome,” Zach says, eyes on the blushing ensign. “How did you work like that?”
Chekov straightens in his seat. “Since poetry was invented in Russia, I had little problem adapting,” he says as seriously as he can, and it makes the table laugh all over again.
“Hi, Leonard,” Zach greets him after he’s calmed down, and McCoy grins around the bite of food in his mouth. “Been busy?”
Kirk makes a frantic slashing noise across his throat at the question, and McCoy throws him a glare before answering. “If you think dealing with stupid kids who couldn’t even wipe their own noses without busting their noses open would keep me busy, then yeah.”
Zach looks at him with a straight face, although his eyes are sparkling. “Sounds like it would keep you busy,” he nods, and then eats a spoonful of the soup in front of him. He lets it sit in his mouth for a moment and then swallows and turns to Spock. “This is pretty good,” he says, sounding almost surprised.
Spock nods. “It is rewarding to have someone on board this ship who can appreciate the flavours of such a delicacy,” Spock says, and Kirk rolls his eyes.
“Delicacy? Well it’s certainly an acquired taste!” he says, and Spock almost honest to god frowns. His lips tighten and his eyes narrow, and it‘s the most emotion McCoy has seen on Spock’s face since he almost choked Kirk to death.
“And yet Zachary had managed to acquire the taste so hastily,” Spock replies. He arches a brow, and his face suddenly gains a subtle, but obvious, teasing expression. “Perhaps your dislike of the soup speaks more about you and your questionable palate, then the meal itself?”
McCoy honestly doesn’t know what shocks him more. The almost-emotion on Spock’s face, the way he’s bantering with Kirk, or the fact he’s known Zach only two days and is using his actual name. He’s know Spock more than two years, and he’s still ‘doctor.’ He looks at Zach questioningly, and receives a knowing smile in return. He’s obviously not telling what’s changed with the Vulcan, but whatever they talked about has done something to loosen the hold he usually keeps on himself.
“Yeah, Kirk,” Zach grins after another spoonful of soup. “Are you sure it’s just not too refined for you?”
Kirk scoffs. “As if,” he says, and takes a huge bite from the burger in front of him. “I’m very cultured,” he says with a full mouth, and Zach and Spock both scrunch their noses at the sight. It’s very odd, yet very cute. McCoy has to hide a smile.
Uhura doesn’t bother. “That makes four identical reactions,” she says, pointing one delicate finger at the pair. “You really are similar.”
“I did put a lot of myself into Spock,” Zach says, in a voice just this side of modest, and Kirk spits out a hunk of burger he laughs so hard in response. Zach shoots back in his chair so he isn’t hit by it, and his spoon catches on the bowl in front of him. It tips onto the table and about a quarter of the liquid bounces off and onto Zach’s shirt.
“Ow,” he yelps, standing up and pulling the top away from his chest. As McCoy stands up, ready to check on the damage, he’s pulling the top off, and by the time he’s reached the man Zach is topless, prodding the slightly red patch on his chest.
McCoy ignores the large expanse of tempting pale skin surrounding the ‘injury,’ and looks at it for a long moment before nodding his head. “Its fine,” he says, aware his voice is gruff and the tips of his ears are burning. “But you best go and find a new top.”
Zach nods, distracted, and makes his way out of the mess, clearly unaware of the many eyes which are following the progress of his tightly muscled body. When he manages to pull his gaze away himself from the shift of muscles underneath Zach’s skin, he finds everyone but Spock and Kirk watching him leave with various levels of concentration. Spock is continuing to eat his salad, obviously unaffected that he’s effectively being ogled by the entire crew. Kirk is looking at McCoy with knowing, sparkling eyes, and McCoy gives him a scowl before he turns back to his meal.
Part 3