FIC: The Blossoming
Title: The Blossoming
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Rating: PG
Characters: Spock, McCoy
Word count: 1693
Summary: Five revelations Spock discovered about his relationship with Doctor McCoy.
Warnings: Light swearing, fluff. <3
This was written for a challenge back in phase one of startrekland, which was to write a "five times..." fic with 500 words minimum. The thread was never unscreened in the end, so we never got to read everyone's submissions. After much time I've decided to post my own submission here. So enjoy! :D
(Also, apologies for the last-minute title. Dx I totally suck at those.)
---------------
“True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.” -George Washington (1732 - 1799)
---------------
1. The level of banter and “name-calling” signified the level of comfort.
Admittedly, Spock would likely never have noticed had the captain not pointed it out to him.
“Don’t let it get to you, Spock,” Jim had said in the mess one afternoon. “He doesn’t really mean anything by it; just trying to push your buttons is all. Besides, he’s got names for everyone. Just like he calls me an idiot, Chekov a kid, and Sulu ‘that crazy swordsman.’ It’s nothing personal, you know?”
Except it was personal, Spock came to realize. The observations he made after hearing Jim’s comments eventually led him to change his initial conclusion that the doctor sincerely disliked him. He was somewhat perplexed that he had not noticed it before - now that he was looking it was rather obvious.
To any newcomer, Doctor McCoy was indeed a “Southern gentleman,” as Nyota occasionally termed it: his demeanor was polite, his vocabulary imbued with such manners of address as “sir,” “ma’am,” and “miss.” However, when speaking with a person he was more familiar with, the man’s behavior would change greatly: a more colloquial, somewhat harsh manner of speech was adopted and his range of expressive emotion appeared much more active.
If the information his observations revealed was accurate, then Spock surmised that the more comfortable McCoy was around a person, the more seemingly argumentative and sardonic he became.
Fascinating.
What that conclusion meant in turn, of course, was another inquiry in itself.
2. Offers of drinks were actually invitations for company.
“Loitering around my sickbay, I see.”
Spock chose to ignore the doctor’s odd form of greeting, instead opting for addressing the reason for his visit. “Do you know the whereabouts of the captain? It was my understanding he wished me to join him for the midday meal.”
“He’s in a personal meeting with Pike,” McCoy responded gruffly. “The call came on a private channel, so he hadn’t expected it. Course, he figured you’d come looking for him, so he dutifully instructed me to inform you that he is ‘sorry’ and will ‘catch you at another time.’” He rolled his eyes. “Not sure why he couldn’t have just sent you a note; I’m a doctor, not his damn secretary.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, Doctor. Nevertheless, you have my thanks for the message. In that case, I will simply use the time to further productivity in the labs.”
McCoy snorted. “Business as usual, eh, Mister Spock?” he quipped with a small grin. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to loosen up once in a while. I’m sure the other hundred-something scientists can handle the lab work just fine on their own. Relax, have a drink or something. Care for one?” He rose up from his desk.
“You are well aware of my impartiality toward alcohol,” Spock reminded. “It neither affects me nor draws me to it. I believe my time would be better spent elsewhere.”
The doctor frowned slowly. “Hell, Spock, I’m not trying to shove it down your throat,” he said, looking somewhat affronted. “Ah, forget it. Go have fun tinkering around with your little science experiments. But if you ever change your mind…” McCoy gave Spock a look, leaving the remainder of his sentence purposefully open.
Spock merely nodded and left.
Later in the evening, Spock expressed curiosity when Jim declined his offer to play chess and instead announced he was going down to sickbay to drink with Doctor McCoy.
“So late?” he found himself questioning. “You are aware you are scheduled for alpha shift in the morning, Jim. Surely indulging in alcohol at this hour will reflect upon your performance tomorrow.”
Jim only chuckled. “Relax, Spock, I’m not out to get hammered. We’ll probably sit and talk over a glass for the most part; it’s what we usually do, anyway.”
“If that is the case, then why is the consumption of alcohol required?” The captain paused, looking over at his first officer in contemplation before shrugging.
“Just an excuse, I guess. You can only really enjoy a drink with company, after all.”
Jim bid him goodbye, and Spock was left to his own thoughts, slightly dismayed to realize he was starting to frown.
If Doctor McCoy had desired company, then why hadn’t he simply said so?
3. What came across as anger was actually concern.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?”
Spock paused in his attempt to sit up. “I believe my action is clearly visible.”
McCoy looked unimpressed, crossing his arms as he stepped closer. “Oh, alright then. But just to be sure, let me calmly ask: you weren’t planning on getting up and wandering back to the bridge, were you?”
“I am sufficiently rested, and the wound has healed. I see no reason for-”
“Yes, the wound is healed, but you’re in no shape to return to duty, you arrogant Vulcan!” McCoy butt in, stepping right up to the biobed. “Look, I know that a shot to the shoulder like that is about as concerning as a paper cut to you hobgoblins, but there’s still the residual effects of the treatment to-” As he was ranting, Spock had pushed himself up further, only to lurch forward as a churning sensation rocked his stomach. He inadvertently gasped and clenched his eyes shut. Suddenly a pair of warm hands latched onto his arms, guiding him back.
“Case in point, Mister Spock,” McCoy reprimanded into the half-Vulcan’s ear as he pushed him onto his back. “We’re low on your usual painkillers right now; until we can resupply at Starbase 9, we’ll have to save the remainder for any critical emergencies. So until then, you’ll have to sit tight and deal with the heavy stuff. If you’d have just stayed still you wouldn’t have upset your stomach like that.”
“Of course, Doctor. How irresponsible of me to cause myself unneeded suffering.”
McCoy glared down at him. “Don’t get cute with me. It’s not like I enjoy giving you those meds. The last thing I need is you puking up your green guts all over the place.”
He reached up to adjust something on the biobed monitor, just barely brushing the side of Spock’s ear with his hand as it moved, effectively silencing the half-Vulcan before he could produce a response. Though it was a brief, almost nonexistent touch, what passed through Spock in that instance made him look up at McCoy with newly kindled curiosity.
Annoyance, yes, and frustration… but actual anger? There was… none.
The doctor looked back down, and yes, Spock could recognize it now. It was no wonder why he had missed it before, an expression so subtle. “Now stay in bed. You got that, pointy-ear?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
McCoy quirked an eyebrow, the surprise evident on his face at Spock’s swift submission, but eventually walked away. In his hours of rest to follow, Spock did not miss the occasional instances of the doctor standing just outside the doorway, gaze suspicious and watchful.
4. Jim was not the sole tie that connected them.
“So the strategy of this game is to lie?”
“It’s not lying, Spock. It’s bluffing.”
“Yes - the act of misleading or deceiving another with a false display. A lie.”
McCoy squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You know what, don’t worry about that right now. You’ll get the hang of it pretty quick once we start practicing.”
“Vulcans do not lie. I do not believe this game ‘is for me,’ as you humans say.”
“Spock, trust me, this game is perfect for you. I mean, look at you! You’ve already got the face for it!”
The half-Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “Nyota has often forewarned me that I might experience periods of ‘corruption’ in your presence, Doctor. Tell me, is this one of those instances?”
“Don’t think of it as corruption, Mister Spock. It’s simply education. Once you learn the ways of Texas hold-em, you’ll-”
“Are you well, Doctor? As I recall, you initially named this game ‘poker.’ Has this changed?”
“…Spock?”
“Yes.”
“Shut up. Now then, let’s expand some more on hand rankings…”
5. Their relationship could indeed be classified as “friendship.”
“You’re here pretty late, aren’t you?”
Spock looked to see Doctor McCoy walk into the rec room, arms crossed and a bemused expression on his face.
“The captain and I finished our last chess game three point two seven minutes ago. I was merely putting the board and pieces away.” He paused and glanced up. “Do you play, Doctor?”
“Me? Nah,” McCoy replied, eyes flitting over the remaining pieces waiting to be put away. “Never really got the chance to learn.”
“As you were no doubt occupied with the lure of poker, I assume.” He felt a small pit of warmth grow in his side as McCoy laughed.
“Got me pegged right, don’t you?”
Spock inclined his head once, then adopted a more thoughtful expression. “Are you busy at the moment? I presently have no other tasks that require my attention. If you would like, I could teach you.”
McCoy looked genuinely surprised. “Teach me chess?”
“I believe that is what I offered.” The corner of Spock’s mouth twitched as the human made a show of thinking it over. After two seconds McCoy crossed over and plopped down in the chair opposite Spock.
“Okay then, oh pointy-eared master, show me what you got.”
Spock quirked an eyebrow, but nodded and began resetting the board. “I will instruct you on the movement of each piece, and then we will discuss matters of strategy.”
McCoy nodded, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.
“If you desire, Doctor, you are welcome to procure beverages of your preference for us both.”
After a beat of silence, a slow grin formed on McCoy’s face. “I thought Vulcans didn’t drink.”
“We do not,” Spock said, placing the final piece on the board. He looked back up. “However, I was under the impression that one ‘cannot enjoy a drink without company.’” When his statement was met with silence, Spock swallowed inaudibly. “Am I wrong?”
McCoy’s grin grew into a smile. “Correct as always, Mister Spock. I’ll be right back.”
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Rating: PG
Characters: Spock, McCoy
Word count: 1693
Summary: Five revelations Spock discovered about his relationship with Doctor McCoy.
Warnings: Light swearing, fluff. <3
This was written for a challenge back in phase one of startrekland, which was to write a "five times..." fic with 500 words minimum. The thread was never unscreened in the end, so we never got to read everyone's submissions. After much time I've decided to post my own submission here. So enjoy! :D
(Also, apologies for the last-minute title. Dx I totally suck at those.)
---------------
“True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.” -George Washington (1732 - 1799)
---------------
1. The level of banter and “name-calling” signified the level of comfort.
Admittedly, Spock would likely never have noticed had the captain not pointed it out to him.
“Don’t let it get to you, Spock,” Jim had said in the mess one afternoon. “He doesn’t really mean anything by it; just trying to push your buttons is all. Besides, he’s got names for everyone. Just like he calls me an idiot, Chekov a kid, and Sulu ‘that crazy swordsman.’ It’s nothing personal, you know?”
Except it was personal, Spock came to realize. The observations he made after hearing Jim’s comments eventually led him to change his initial conclusion that the doctor sincerely disliked him. He was somewhat perplexed that he had not noticed it before - now that he was looking it was rather obvious.
To any newcomer, Doctor McCoy was indeed a “Southern gentleman,” as Nyota occasionally termed it: his demeanor was polite, his vocabulary imbued with such manners of address as “sir,” “ma’am,” and “miss.” However, when speaking with a person he was more familiar with, the man’s behavior would change greatly: a more colloquial, somewhat harsh manner of speech was adopted and his range of expressive emotion appeared much more active.
If the information his observations revealed was accurate, then Spock surmised that the more comfortable McCoy was around a person, the more seemingly argumentative and sardonic he became.
Fascinating.
What that conclusion meant in turn, of course, was another inquiry in itself.
2. Offers of drinks were actually invitations for company.
“Loitering around my sickbay, I see.”
Spock chose to ignore the doctor’s odd form of greeting, instead opting for addressing the reason for his visit. “Do you know the whereabouts of the captain? It was my understanding he wished me to join him for the midday meal.”
“He’s in a personal meeting with Pike,” McCoy responded gruffly. “The call came on a private channel, so he hadn’t expected it. Course, he figured you’d come looking for him, so he dutifully instructed me to inform you that he is ‘sorry’ and will ‘catch you at another time.’” He rolled his eyes. “Not sure why he couldn’t have just sent you a note; I’m a doctor, not his damn secretary.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, Doctor. Nevertheless, you have my thanks for the message. In that case, I will simply use the time to further productivity in the labs.”
McCoy snorted. “Business as usual, eh, Mister Spock?” he quipped with a small grin. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to loosen up once in a while. I’m sure the other hundred-something scientists can handle the lab work just fine on their own. Relax, have a drink or something. Care for one?” He rose up from his desk.
“You are well aware of my impartiality toward alcohol,” Spock reminded. “It neither affects me nor draws me to it. I believe my time would be better spent elsewhere.”
The doctor frowned slowly. “Hell, Spock, I’m not trying to shove it down your throat,” he said, looking somewhat affronted. “Ah, forget it. Go have fun tinkering around with your little science experiments. But if you ever change your mind…” McCoy gave Spock a look, leaving the remainder of his sentence purposefully open.
Spock merely nodded and left.
Later in the evening, Spock expressed curiosity when Jim declined his offer to play chess and instead announced he was going down to sickbay to drink with Doctor McCoy.
“So late?” he found himself questioning. “You are aware you are scheduled for alpha shift in the morning, Jim. Surely indulging in alcohol at this hour will reflect upon your performance tomorrow.”
Jim only chuckled. “Relax, Spock, I’m not out to get hammered. We’ll probably sit and talk over a glass for the most part; it’s what we usually do, anyway.”
“If that is the case, then why is the consumption of alcohol required?” The captain paused, looking over at his first officer in contemplation before shrugging.
“Just an excuse, I guess. You can only really enjoy a drink with company, after all.”
Jim bid him goodbye, and Spock was left to his own thoughts, slightly dismayed to realize he was starting to frown.
If Doctor McCoy had desired company, then why hadn’t he simply said so?
3. What came across as anger was actually concern.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?”
Spock paused in his attempt to sit up. “I believe my action is clearly visible.”
McCoy looked unimpressed, crossing his arms as he stepped closer. “Oh, alright then. But just to be sure, let me calmly ask: you weren’t planning on getting up and wandering back to the bridge, were you?”
“I am sufficiently rested, and the wound has healed. I see no reason for-”
“Yes, the wound is healed, but you’re in no shape to return to duty, you arrogant Vulcan!” McCoy butt in, stepping right up to the biobed. “Look, I know that a shot to the shoulder like that is about as concerning as a paper cut to you hobgoblins, but there’s still the residual effects of the treatment to-” As he was ranting, Spock had pushed himself up further, only to lurch forward as a churning sensation rocked his stomach. He inadvertently gasped and clenched his eyes shut. Suddenly a pair of warm hands latched onto his arms, guiding him back.
“Case in point, Mister Spock,” McCoy reprimanded into the half-Vulcan’s ear as he pushed him onto his back. “We’re low on your usual painkillers right now; until we can resupply at Starbase 9, we’ll have to save the remainder for any critical emergencies. So until then, you’ll have to sit tight and deal with the heavy stuff. If you’d have just stayed still you wouldn’t have upset your stomach like that.”
“Of course, Doctor. How irresponsible of me to cause myself unneeded suffering.”
McCoy glared down at him. “Don’t get cute with me. It’s not like I enjoy giving you those meds. The last thing I need is you puking up your green guts all over the place.”
He reached up to adjust something on the biobed monitor, just barely brushing the side of Spock’s ear with his hand as it moved, effectively silencing the half-Vulcan before he could produce a response. Though it was a brief, almost nonexistent touch, what passed through Spock in that instance made him look up at McCoy with newly kindled curiosity.
Annoyance, yes, and frustration… but actual anger? There was… none.
The doctor looked back down, and yes, Spock could recognize it now. It was no wonder why he had missed it before, an expression so subtle. “Now stay in bed. You got that, pointy-ear?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
McCoy quirked an eyebrow, the surprise evident on his face at Spock’s swift submission, but eventually walked away. In his hours of rest to follow, Spock did not miss the occasional instances of the doctor standing just outside the doorway, gaze suspicious and watchful.
4. Jim was not the sole tie that connected them.
“So the strategy of this game is to lie?”
“It’s not lying, Spock. It’s bluffing.”
“Yes - the act of misleading or deceiving another with a false display. A lie.”
McCoy squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You know what, don’t worry about that right now. You’ll get the hang of it pretty quick once we start practicing.”
“Vulcans do not lie. I do not believe this game ‘is for me,’ as you humans say.”
“Spock, trust me, this game is perfect for you. I mean, look at you! You’ve already got the face for it!”
The half-Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “Nyota has often forewarned me that I might experience periods of ‘corruption’ in your presence, Doctor. Tell me, is this one of those instances?”
“Don’t think of it as corruption, Mister Spock. It’s simply education. Once you learn the ways of Texas hold-em, you’ll-”
“Are you well, Doctor? As I recall, you initially named this game ‘poker.’ Has this changed?”
“…Spock?”
“Yes.”
“Shut up. Now then, let’s expand some more on hand rankings…”
5. Their relationship could indeed be classified as “friendship.”
“You’re here pretty late, aren’t you?”
Spock looked to see Doctor McCoy walk into the rec room, arms crossed and a bemused expression on his face.
“The captain and I finished our last chess game three point two seven minutes ago. I was merely putting the board and pieces away.” He paused and glanced up. “Do you play, Doctor?”
“Me? Nah,” McCoy replied, eyes flitting over the remaining pieces waiting to be put away. “Never really got the chance to learn.”
“As you were no doubt occupied with the lure of poker, I assume.” He felt a small pit of warmth grow in his side as McCoy laughed.
“Got me pegged right, don’t you?”
Spock inclined his head once, then adopted a more thoughtful expression. “Are you busy at the moment? I presently have no other tasks that require my attention. If you would like, I could teach you.”
McCoy looked genuinely surprised. “Teach me chess?”
“I believe that is what I offered.” The corner of Spock’s mouth twitched as the human made a show of thinking it over. After two seconds McCoy crossed over and plopped down in the chair opposite Spock.
“Okay then, oh pointy-eared master, show me what you got.”
Spock quirked an eyebrow, but nodded and began resetting the board. “I will instruct you on the movement of each piece, and then we will discuss matters of strategy.”
McCoy nodded, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.
“If you desire, Doctor, you are welcome to procure beverages of your preference for us both.”
After a beat of silence, a slow grin formed on McCoy’s face. “I thought Vulcans didn’t drink.”
“We do not,” Spock said, placing the final piece on the board. He looked back up. “However, I was under the impression that one ‘cannot enjoy a drink without company.’” When his statement was met with silence, Spock swallowed inaudibly. “Am I wrong?”
McCoy’s grin grew into a smile. “Correct as always, Mister Spock. I’ll be right back.”