Characters: Spock, Kirk, Bones
Rating: PG, now. NC-17, later.
Warnings: FLUFF. *irked*
Notes: This is fluffy. It may not be fluffy, yet, but it's going there. It's going there in like a weepy goddamn chick-flick way. It's all the things I hate about bad slashfic and weepy ukes, but ... like ... less full of sucking. Or something. I dedicate this one to Twig and Molochai -- one day, we three will take the world by storm, you guys.
"In the light of all my darkest mornings
Things fall into place
And all the soft orange coloured dawnings
Fall into place"
-- Jesus and Mary Chain, 'Cherry Came Too'
They'd been friends a long time -- since shortly after the shenanigans on Delta Vega, in fact. But Kirk had forgiven Spock that, and Spock had forgiven Kirk for shattering the last of his control. A decade of friendship tended to dull the edges of old wounds, and sometimes the scars healed together, in a nasty keloided mess, and it was by those matching disfigurements, however metaphorical they might be, that one could know the unspoken depths of that friendship.
It would, indubitably, be wholly unfair to leave out the third of three, but there were some things that Dr. McCoy had expressed a strong disinterest in ever hearing the details of, and his dearest friends were ... usually kind enough to leave him out of the loop. Usually. Most of the time. Almost always. And when they weren't, he would find ways to have his revenge, as he always did -- in those not so subtle commentaries that went over the heads of most, but not all, of the crew.
"You, your girlfriend, and me," McCoy liked to joke, and neither Kirk nor Spock ever particularly wanted to know which of them was the girlfriend, but each secretly thought it would be the other -- not that they were dating. That was a wholly distressing thought.
They'd gotten older, as time went by, but age only seemed to come into play when experiences from years gone by became solutions to new problems -- and Spock, of course, had mellowed with the passage of time, as had Kirk, though he'd never confess to it. It was McCoy who was grumpy and unchanging. Mostly. Almost always.
"Aww. You two are just precious." McCoy's voice dripped with what might've been caustic intent, in years past, but was now mostly reflexive irritation.
Spock had been standing behind the captain, Kirk sitting with his head tipped back, as they shared a lazy kiss. As Bones spoke, Spock pulled back and raised an eyebrow, and Kirk leaned forward, grinning.
"Damn right we are. No other way for the likes of us, eh, Doc?"
Spock looked faintly uncomfortable, as he always did when Jim and Bones started down this line of conversation. He enjoyed kisses -- that was hardly news to anyone -- but he didn't like to think about how he must look performing or receiving them. Even after all these years, semi-public displays of affection were not entirely easy for him -- but sometimes, late at night, when they were all less than wholly sober, Jim's easy acceptance was irresistable to him.
McCoy heaved himself to his feet. "I see that I'm best to leave you two to your shenanigans, for the evening. Don't take pictures. I don't want to see them."
"Aw, but why not? We're so pretty! You could hang us on your wall!" Jim teased.
"If I hang you on my wall, Jim, it's not going to be in effigy." Bones looked that low level of amusedly annoyed that had summed up his entire relationship with Jim and Spock for the last decade and change. "And it'll be by your neck if you don't shut up."
Kirk opened his mouth again, but Spock's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Good night, Doctor. Sleep well," the Vulcan offered, evenly.
"Yeah, we'll see you in the morning. I might be lying about the morning part of that, though." Jim grinned recklessly, and McCoy left, after a sympathetic look from Spock.
"To bed?" Jim asked, when the door had closed.
"That had been my intent," Spock replied.
"Seriously, I don't know that I'm so keen on taking drunken advantage of you," Jim confessed.
Spock quirked an eyebrow. "You asked my permission when I was still sober. I advised you to wait until I was intoxicated."
"You make an excellent point. I take you at your word."