Title: Another Piece of Action|
Email: blueberrysnail at yahoo dot com
Betas: Hypatia, Blue, Leiabelle, Saavant, and my wonderful Ami-chan (soup!) Special thanks to Hy for the topic of Spock's journal. LOL.
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Mc
Rating: PG-13 for heavy sexual innuendo
Archive: KSOF2003, ASCEM, AAK/SA. Anyone else please inquire.
Disclaimer: They only WISH they belonged to me :-D Thank you to Sara for the challenge idea.
Summary: Somewhat post-trilogy (i.e. after the whole whale movie thing), McCoy is having disturbing visions of pinstripes....
~ ANOTHER PIECE OF ACTION ~
Dr. Leonard H. McCoy leaned forward in his chair, took another sip from the bowl of tomato soup on his desk, and sighed loudly. Today had been thoroughly, unbelievably exhausting. It had been hours into the planetside exploratory mission before any of the away team had started to show symptoms, and by the time Captain Kirk knew what was going on and beamed everybody back on board, about fifty crewmembers were suffering from allergic reactions resembling poison ivy. Figuring out the chemical nature of the plant, and coordinating remedies with the species of the affected crew had given McCoy hours of stress, and his throat was raw from barking orders at his nurses. Thank goodness for soup-- thick, hot, steaming, soothing tomato soup and flavorful bread to dip into it... it was almost lulling Bones to sleep...
A half-dream flitted into his mind and prevented repose. A scene, a sample from someone else's memory, his eyes looking outward through a face not his own. The soup lay temporarily forgotten as the flashback grew in strength.
A young Kirk, still in his thirties was hurrying through the corridors of the Enterprise-- the *original* Enterprise, of course. The man looked fresh as a new stick of butter compared with the contented but harried and experienced way he looked now, in 2287. Spock was close at his side, also looking remarkably young-- another original. Both men were wearing out-of-date pinstripe suits and wide-brimmed hats, and each crewman they passed peered after them with amused expressions.
"Come on, Mister Spock, we can change out of these suits in my quarters," Kirk told his friend, glancing back over his shoulder at the pair of female security officers who had just bumped into each other while staring at the two men. "Then we can stop attracting so much attention."
Spock shot him a look. "I highly doubt that will ever be the case." Jim grinned as they rounded a corner. "Captain," Spock continued, "I do not understand why we did not change back into our uniforms before leaving Iotia. These suits belonged to two of the men down there."
Kirk keyed his door open and stepped inside, with Spock following close behind. "I thought it would... help a little with our 'tough' image down there, wouldn't you say?" The door slid shut.
Spock nodded. "I see."
"Besides," Kirk added slyly, "we would have both been stripped down to our boxers again, and you know what it does to me to see you like that. The Iotians would definitely have been able to tell I was 'interested', and that wouldn't have done wonders for my macho act." He smirked.
Spock nodded a little more broadly, and lifted his eyebrow. "A most intelligent society. They learn quickly, and to learn one must be observant. The logical choice would be not to disrobe." His face remained calm, but Kirk could tell he was amused. "Of course, both the costume and the culture seemed to suit you quite well. I do believe you enjoyed your moment as a 'gang boss'."
"Really, Spocko? You like dese threads I've got on here?" Kirk swaggered, slipping easily back into the 20th century Chicago bravado he had mimicked back down on the planet. "Well, sweetheart, you don't look half bad yourself." He leaned back provocatively against his dresser. "I'm warnin' ya, I'm packin' heat. In fact, I gotta heater like ya wouldn't believe." He made a wide, downwards gesture with both arms.
Spock glanced down briefly and then approached Jim in a slow manner full of mock-menace. "What makes you suppose I am not similarly armed?" he rebutted. 'Heater' had been the quasi-gangland's slang term of choice for a gun, or a phaser.
"Is dat a threat, baby?" Kirk folded his arms across his chest and grinned.
"I would advise youse to be careful." The foreign slang still slipped clumsily from Spock's lips even after the practice he'd had down on the planet. He drew closer and moved his face, either menacingly or seductively, so that he was nose to nose with his playful Captain.
"Naw, I think it's you dat needs to be careful, since you've got a heater pointed right at ya," Kirk replied without missing a beat.
Something was brewing in Spock's dark eyes. "Right," he said. Then suddenly he grabbed Kirk around the waist, pinning his arms to his sides. Using the same intelligently targeted strength that had proved lifesaving so many times to both of them, he pulled Kirk across the room and forced him down onto the bed. Kirk pretended to struggle, of course, but trying not to grin would have been pointless. The captain's face was glowing with exuberance as Spock held him down against the sheets and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.
"Spock, I think these silly suits are laced with aphrodisiac," Kirk murmured breathlessly as his eyes drank in the image of the man sitting on him-- the beautiful face with glossy black hair and eyes like living jewels underneath long lashes, the powerful span of his shoulders within the brown pinstripe coat, the ridiculous wide-brimmed hat.
"Quiet, youse," Spock throatily replied as Kirk pulled him closer. Their lips met in soft, heavy hunger as Kirk ripped the hat off Spock's head and let it fly.
"Dr. McCoy? Doctor? Are you all right? Doctor?"
McCoy jerked awake with a start, flailing his elbow and in doing so, sending the tomato soup flying right onto the nurse that had roused him out of his borrowed reverie. "What? Who? Oh, it's you, Nurse. Oh, I'm sorry." He stood up and fumbled around for something to help her clean herself with.
"It's all right, Doctor," said Nurse Michaels, patting at her chest with a towel. "It's one of the more pleasant things this uniform's been stained with," she quipped.
McCoy gave her a half-smile and offered her another towel. "What can I do for you, Nurse?"
"Well, nothing really... I just saw you sitting there staring into space and was wondering if you were all right. You've been on your feet all day, and it wouldn't have surprised me if you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open."
"Asleep would have been better," McCoy muttered, moving out from behind his desk.
"Never mind, Nurse. I think I'd better turn in for the night. It's been a looong day." He left the confused and concerned woman standing in his office and got the hell out of Sickbay already.
Bones hurried down the corridors to the double-cabin area that his friends shared, Jim and Spock's cabins connected by a large washroom. The cleverly private nature of what was in reality just shared quarters was a discreet modification to the original Enterprise-A plans, added by a few sympathetic designers as a way of thanking the couple for helping save the world~ again.
Bones' mind was racing, even though he was trying to stifle all thought in fear of another flashback. It wasn't that he was at all homophobic; nobody intolerant of liberal sexual practices could have been friends with James Kirk very long. Bones had been his confidante through numerous "adventures" with several species and members of more genders than even a doctor could have imagined. And the love between his two best friends was very touching and it made him feel good to see them happy together.
But having to watch in excruciatingly clear detail, perfectly preserved by Vulcan memory, the visions of his friends making love in pinstripe suits and gasping to each other with gangster-flavoured innuendo, crossed over from 'touching' to just plain 'disturbing'. Before his unique adventure of walking a mile in Spock's mental moccasins, he had never even really thought of the man as a sexual being at all. Jim was 'lively' enough for the both of them, certainly...
Bones couldn't figure out why the memory, vivid as if he were the Vulcan himself, hadn't been neatly excised from his consciousness along with all of Spock's other memories during the fal-tor-pann resurrection ceremony. Every trace of Spock's homosexuality had been removed methodically from McCoy's straight mind, so why had this odd little scene from almost twenty years ago remained? If nothing else, it made Bones feel even lonelier. He'd been without female companionship for quite some time...
He found himself at Spock's door and pressed the buzzer. Spock signaled him from the other side and the door slid open. "Hey, Spock, you busy?"
Spock was sitting in an armchair reading a scientific journal, and he gestured for McCoy to sit. "Hello, Doctor. I'm reading about creating Bose-Einstein condensates in Technetium-99 using optical techniques."
"Sounds like fun," McCoy said dryly.
"That you, Bones?" yelled a voice from the cracked-ajar bathroom door.
"How you doinÍ, Jim? Didn't mean to disturb you." Bones sat down in the offered chair.
"It's fine, Bones," called Jim. "I'm in the bath!"
"Bath? As in, in a tub full of dirty water?" McCoy wrinkled his nose at Spock. "Since when does he take baths?"
Spock cocked his head slightly at a large bottle filled with bright green translucent gel that had been left on the coffee table near McCoy. Bones picked up the bottle and read aloud, "'Spearmint Bath, To relax and refresh the body for sleep and other nocturnal activities.' Well, that's something different. Where'd you pick this up?"
"Risa," called the captain from the bathtub.
"Ah," said McCoy, nodding a little. Spock was nibbling on baby carrots, and he offered one to McCoy. Feeling lulled by the dim, velvet atmosphere of the Vulcan-decorated cabin, and not particularly eager to recall the memory that had instigated his visit, Bones remained silent for a few minutes, munching vegetables and watching Spock read his journal.
Finally, he spoke. "Uh, Spock... could T'Lar have made a mistake?"
"A mistake? What do you mean, Doctor?" Spock closed the journal and looked intently at the human.
"Erhh..." McCoy paused and shifted in his seat. "Let's just say that I think one of your memories is still knocking around in this old noggin of mine."
"I cannot imagine what," said Spock, looking concerned. "Everything seems to be perfectly in place, and in order just as it should be."
"It's not a very.... *momentous* memory, Spock," said McCoy. "You're leading a perfectly normal life without it. However, I... am not." He looked at the Vulcan pointedly. "It's not exactly my idea of a pleasant afternoon."
"Spock... did you and Jim... well, you remember that planet, what was it called," McCoy fumbled. "Iota. Iotia. Whatever. The planet where everybody was runnin' around talking like Chicago gangsters from two hundred and fifty years ago. Remember them?"
Spock nodded. "An extremely intriguing case history in sociological mimicry," he said.
"I remember that!" Kirk emerged from the bathroom in a bathrobe and healthy glow, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. "What ever happened to them?"
"They found another book from which to base their customs," said Spock. "If I remember correctly, 'Watership Down'."
"A political allegory from the twentieth century," Kirk explained to McCoy's blank face. "Involving rabbits."
"Rabbits?" McCoy asked incredulously. "As in... hop hop?"
"Rabbits," said Spock, and bit into another carrot.
"You should read it, Bones," said Kirk, smirking. "I loved that book when I was a kid."
"No thanks," said Bones. "So now the whole planet is acting like rabbits?"
"They were able to absorb the democratic lessons from the novel without taking the rabbit parts literally," said Spock. "Within the book, both a lethal false utopia and a brutal autocracy are contrasted with the author's vision of democracy."
"No wonder Jim likes it so much," McCoy commented.
"Why are we talking about Iotia?" Kirk asked.
"It is the Doctor's opinion that T'Lar left one of my memories within his mind when she performed the fal-tor-pann," Spock said to his bondmate. "Apparently, it has something to do with our visit to Iotia, but I cannot find any gap in my memory of the planet."
"It wasn't on the planet," said McCoy. "Afterwards."
"Don't you remember anything from afterwards?" McCoy pushed.
Spock cocked his head. "Such as?"
McCoy caught Kirk's eye just as Kirk suddenly cupped his hands to his mouth and began to chuckle softly. Spock turned to look at Kirk questioningly.
"Do *you* know what I'm talking about?" Bones asked Jim.
"I... think I do..." Kirk pretended that drying his hair required all of his mental attention.
"Spock," asked McCoy. "How does this work? Do we need to mind meld?"
Spock nodded. "That would be appropriate."
McCoy snorted. "I'm not so sure that's the right word here."
Spock's eyebrow shot up. "Oh?"
"Spock..." Jim said, drawing near. "I don't know for sure, but I think our poor friend's gotten stuck with a somewhat private moment..."
They shared a look.
"I see," said Spock.
"Please, get it out of my head," McCoy pleaded dryly.
Spock obliged him, placing his hand on the man's temples. Seconds later their breathing synchronized. Kirk paced around them in his damp bathrobe, peering curiously at his friends. He didn't know what was going on inside their heads, but he could sense first caution, then curiosity from his Vulcan spouse.
Suddenly there was a sort of mental sonic boom and McCoy flew back in his chair, shaking like a starving person. Both Kirk and Spock flew to his side and cradled his shoulders. "What happened?" Kirk asked Spock.
"His mind shields itself from mine," Spock said. "When I gave him my katra, he accepted it unwillingly, and endured much suffering on my account. Apparently it is not so ready to accept my mind a second time."
"I'm sorry, Bones." Kirk patted McCoy's shoulder.
"It's okay, I'm all right," McCoy muttered. "Just need to calm down a little." He peered around the room. "Brandy?"
Kirk darted through the bathroom into his quarters to retrieve the drink. While he was gone, McCoy said to Spock softly, "You know, it was worth it, carrying your mind."
Spock gave him a kind look that wasn't quite a smile but was good enough.
"He needs both of us," McCoy continued, "but in *separate* bodies." He winked. Spock's expression changed from a Vulcan's version of beatific to a Vulcan's version of a smirk.
Kirk returned with the brandy and glasses. "Time for a little self-medication," McCoy remarked as he sipped his glass. The warmth hugged his skin, and soon he felt that he was relaxed enough to continue the procedure. "Okay, Mr. Spock, do your worst."
Kirk, still hovering over his two friends, couldn't help but sense Spock's growing uneasiness about the whole procedure. The Vulcan had always been a very private man, and even though McCoy was one of his dearest friends he was quite relieved to live inside his own head again. He hadn't melded with anyone but Kirk since the fal-tor-pan, and even that didn't count to him because Kirk was the completion of his being, not something external.
Kirk eyed the shy scientist sitting across from McCoy. Spock was stalling for time by trying to arrange his hands 'just so' at McCoy's face, which had flushed a little to a pleasant pink. "Spock," Kirk said gently. Two pairs of eyes glanced his way. "Spock, Bones, do you think this might go a little more smoothly if I joined in the meld?"
A pulse of relief floated over the bond he had with Spock. "Excellent idea, Jim," Spock said out loud.
"Pull up a chair, the water's fine," drawled McCoy. Spock raised an eyebrow at the mixed metaphor as Kirk found a third chair and joined them at the table. Then Spock placed a hand on each of their foreheads and slowly, gently, drifted into their minds.
"Concentrate on the memory you wish to return to me," Spock said to Bones, sotto-voce.
Kirk felt McCoy try to pull up the scene, mentally recoil slightly, and then fight his own reluctance. As he relaxed, the memory played itself out in completion before the trio, concluding with the younger Jim and Spock curled in each other's arms, half-clothed but spent, resting on a rumpled bed. McCoy observed the scene with a doctor's detachment, Kirk with impish nostalgia and overwhelming love-- and a little embarrassment.
Apparently, T'Lar had found the memory too foolish, too confusing, too human, and just too silly for her to handle-- thus its abandonment within the brain of the wrong man.
Spock's alien mind downloaded the memory rapidly like a sponge soaking up water. His brain's physiology knew exactly where to file it away chronologically, and he realized that, yes, he *had* been missing a spot. A small spot, but a sweet, if silly, memory of his younger years with his t'hy'la. He was glad to have it back; he didn't want to lose a single moment of his time with Jim. Vulcans live longer than humans, and he knew that someday when Jim was gone he would live for simple memories like this. This one especially appealed to him, even though it seemed foolish and frivolous on first glance, because it symbolized so much of how James T. Kirk had changed his life forever. Jim, he knew, had taught him how to be playful. And that was so much of a part of how to embrace his half-humanity...
Spock sent pulses of love into the two human men's minds, on different frequencies of course, before he withdrew. Kirk leaned across the table and looked at McCoy questioningly. "Well? Spock? Bones? Did it work?"
"Thank you, Spock, I feel much better," said McCoy. "I think I'll have a little more of that brandy." He started fiddling with the glass. "And thank you too, Jim."
"I'll leave you two to your Spearmint Bath gel," the doctor said when he had finished his drink. He stood up and stumbled toward the door. "I'm going to go get some sleep."
"Night, Spock, Jim..." The door slid shut on the doctor as he chuckled to himself down the hallway.
Kirk stood up and walked around the table to where Spock sat. "Are you done with your reading?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Spock's neck and burying his face in the soft black hair.
"You smell of mint," Spock commented.
"I should hope so, after that bath."
"It is interesting how many cultures associate mint with some form of courtship ritual. There is, of course, the custom of 'breath mints', which in some parts of the galaxy--"
"Quiet, youse," Kirk interrupted, cutting off the lecture with a full, leisurely kiss.