A/N: I've officially never written anything like this before. Ever. And so I'm sorry in advance if it's crudely done. But the intent was to be more emotional than sexual. Also I know this is my first Star Trek story and I know wading into a longstanding fandom with a slashfic isn't the done thing. So again. Sorry. But I do hope nobody is too offended by it. Nothing actually happens.
Disclaimer: Star Trek: The Original Series is the brainchild of Gene Roddenberry and I love him for it. I'm borrowing a couple of characters and messing about with them but I promise I'll put them straight back.
The Night Before
"Doctor McCoy to the Bridge," the Captain's disembodied voice ordered.
Bones looked up, sighed heavily and rubbed his hands over his face. 'Not this,' he thought to himself. All he wanted to do was to hide in the sickbay and not see anyone. Especially nobody who may frequent the Bridge. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Not today.
He stood from his desk slowly, groaning slightly with exertion. He suddenly felt a lot older than he was, and felt his legs turning to jelly as he walked towards the intercom on the wall.
"Doctor McCoy to the Bridge," the Captain repeated, a little more impatiently this time. Bones swallowed hard before opening communications.
"Captain, uh... request permission to remain in sickbay," he finally answered.
"Request denied, I need you here," Jim replied, his voice hitting that note of cheerfulness that set Bones' teeth on edge.
"Jim, I don't ask a lot from you, but today, please - let me stay here for God's sake. I... uh... I don't feel well. If anyone needs my help then the sickbay is the most logical-" he stopped for a moment, feeling deeply nauseous at the way the word felt in his mouth, "The most obvious place for me to be," he corrected himself.
"Bones. Come to the Bridge. That's an order," Jim answered, his voice firm yet concerned. There was obviously something wrong with the Chief Medical Officer but at that moment he didn't have time to find out. "Kirk out," he finished, switching off communications.
"Yes sir," Doctor McCoy answered, not much louder than a whisper.
His legs felt as heavy as lead as he forced them to move towards the elevator to the Bridge. He could feel the colour draining from his face and his stomach started churning so violently he genuinely thought he was going to throw up. Eventually, with a grumble of determination and after swearing in a most colourful fashion to himself, he shook his head vigorously.
"Dammit, McCoy, act your goddam age!" he growled. "You can do this. You're just doing your job, that's all. If you're needed there, it's because you're a doctor and people need your help. Stop being so self-obsessed, you don't have time, you idiot!" he scolded himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, his lips twitching into a defiant pout as the doors opened and he stepped out onto the Bridge. "Captain," he began, nodding at Jim. "What seems to be the trouble?"
"Bones, there was an electrical overload to our control panels and both Lieutenant Uhura and Mr Spock have suffered burns. Mr Scott is on his way to fix the panels now but I need you to fix Uhura and Spock," the Captain explained, gesturing over towards the crew members who were nursing their burnt hands. Bones' face fell.
"You called me up here for a couple of minor burns?" he demanded, indignantly. Jim's eyes widened in surprise. "You could easily have called for Nurse Chapel instead!" he pointed out. "She's more than capable of treating this!"
"Bones, wait a minute," Jim began, holding his hands up in protest.
"No, Jim - I'm a doctor, not a goddam nursemaid! There's nothing here that couldn't have waited until the patients made it to the sickbay! I had other things to do, I asked not to be disturbed," McCoy ranted, not even sure why he felt so angry.
"Doctor McCoy, stand down!" the Captain ordered, sternly. McCoy opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it, dropped his shoulders and nodded in resignation.
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, Captain," he answered, meekly. He chanced to look at Kirk, whose face was full of concern. This reaction was wholly unlike Bones, who would do anything to help anyone in need, especially those he considered to be his friends.
"Is everything all right, Doctor?" Jim asked, quietly. McCoy didn't answer right away, he bit his lower lip and looked away.
"I'm just... a little under the weather," he answered, not even caring how unconvincing he sounded. Jim frowned. "I asked to be left in the sickbay for today, Captain. I asked for a reason," he continued. Jim's frown deepened. Something wasn't right and he didn't like being kept in the dark over it.
"Explain."
Bones looked at the floor and shook his head. When he looked up again, his eyes locked with Spock's.
"I... I've got patients to attend to, Jim. Excuse me," he finally replied, walking towards Uhura. "I'm sorry, Uhura. Come with me, that's a pretty nasty lookin' burn you got yourself there," he declared, tenderly picking up her hand and examining. He made a few tutting noises and shook his head. "I'm pretty sure you'll live, though," he decided, flashing her a grin and a wink. Uhura smiled back at him.
"Takes more than a short circuit to get the best of me, Doctor!" she chuckled. His smile broadened for a moment until he looked up at Spock.
"How about you?" he asked, gruffly. Spock blinked once and raised his eyebrows briefly, not quite prepared for McCoy's brusque manner.
"The pain is moderate, Doctor," he replied, showing the doctor the palms of his hands, which were burned more severely than Uhura's.
"Only moderate, Mr Spock?" McCoy asked, raising his right eyebrow and looking sceptically at the Science Officer. Spock swallowed and nodded.
"I believe I too shall live," he answered, flatly. McCoy nodded.
"I believe you're right," he agreed. "Both of you come with me to the sickbay so we can get you bandaged up," he ordered, heading back towards the elevator.
The silence was deafening and the atmosphere between Spock and McCoy was so palpable that Uhura struggled to breathe in the elevator.
"Is everything all right, Doctor?" she asked, resting her fingertips gently on his forearm. The doctor looked sharply at her.
"Why wouldn't it be, Lieutenant?" he retorted. Mr Spock's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"I believe the doctor is simply overtired after treating the crewmembers affected by the recent food poisoning outbreak on board," he volunteered. McCoy glared at him.
"As a matter of fact, I'm feeling a little nauseous myself," he answered sharply. The two patients exchanged a brief, wide-eyed glance with each other and silence resumed.
When they finally returned to the sickbay, Spock sat on a bed and waited patiently while McCoy tended to and bound Uhura's burned hands.
"You're gonna have to come back twice a day for the next couple of days to have these re-dressed, Uhura. I mean it, those burns are nasty and you've got a severe risk of infection. The Captain would have my hide if I let anything happen to our Communications Officer!" he told her, smiling kindly at her. She nodded.
"Are you sure you're all right, Doctor?" Uhura asked, frowning slightly with concern. McCoy paused for a moment and eventually nodded.
"Just a little tuckered out," he answered, quite untruthfully. "Y'know what they used to say about a woman's work never being done? Seems the entire sex passed that mantle onto doctors!" he joked. Uhura chuckled. "Now go on, Lieutenant, back to your station!" he ordered with a nod and a wink. She nodded and breezed out of the sickbay, feeling better already.
Eventually, McCoy turned to Spock.
"Let me see your hands," he began, grimly. Spock held his hands out wordlessly and McCoy began to examine them. "Moderate pain," he muttered in disbelief. "I suppose even admitting to having that much feeling goes against the grain for you, Mr Spock," he said.
"Doctor, I do not derive any more pleasure out of this scenario than you do. Not only do I share your discomfort with the situation in which we find ourselves, I am also in a degree of pain that, were I to succumb to my half-human nature, would cause me to cry out in agony," Spock answered, calmly. He was always calm. It was almost enough to drive McCoy demented. "I gather by your silence that you don't wish to discuss what happened," Spock continued after an uncomfortable pause.
"No, Mr Spock, I do not wish to talk about it. I wish to forget it ever happened and I wish to be allowed to continue to do my job. Your burns are severe and need treatment. There's a very real chance of the burns becoming infected," McCoy replied, his tone sharp but his blue eyes burning with an emotion not even he could define.
"You wish to forget?" Spock repeated. McCoy looked up from cleaning the burned area of his palms and tried to read some sort of emotion in Spock's eyes. There was nothing. No wonder nobody ever played poker with the Vulcan.
"I... I've never... uh... I am not..." he stammered, unsure of how to word what he wanted to say. "If that was the man I am, that would be fine. But it isn't. I am not that way, and I never have been," he finally said, firmly.
"I understand and share your concerns, Doctor," Spock admitted. McCoy nodded.
"I apologise for... I don't know why I..." he paused and looked around the empty sickbay, just in case someone was listening. "I am a doctor, Spock. As such, I have a duty to my patients. I signed the Hippocratic Oath, and I violated that oath. For that, I am deeply sorry," he murmured, so as not to be overheard. He leaned in closer to Spock as he spoke, and Spock, for reasons unbeknown to him, felt his pulse quicken and his mouth suddenly dried up.
"You are apologising for violating the Hippocratic Oath, Doctor. You do not appear to apologise for the actions that violated it," Spock answered, his voice suddenly hoarse. He cleared his throat and blinked twice.
McCoy bit his lower lip and raised his right eyebrow as he looked into Spock's eyes. He felt as though there was no available air in the sickbay and breathed in deeply before he suffocated.
"I can't apologise for what I did last night. I didn't intend to... to kiss you, Spock. But I did. It was wrong of me. It was wrong because it was selfish and it was the action of a man and not a doctor. So, for the sake of this mission and the ship and for countless other reasons, I am asking if you will forgive me and if we can try and put it behind us," he explained, his voice still low enough so that nobody would overhear them.
"In that case, Doctor, there is nothing to forgive. I reciprocated the kiss, which makes me as guilty as you are of acting selfishly - without regard for the ship, the mission and other factors we did not consider in that moment," Spock answered. He looked down at his hands. McCoy had finished binding them and was now just holding them in his own, rubbing his thumbs gently over Spock's bandages.
"I think you'll recover just fine, Mr Spock," McCoy told him gently. Spock nodded and stood up.
"As will you, Doctor," he replied. McCoy smiled and looked at the floor. If Spock didn't know any better he would almost have sworn he saw the doctor blushing. After a brief pause, Spock began to walk out of the sickbay.
"It... it won't happen again," McCoy called after him. Spock stopped and turned around. To McCoy's surprise, an impish grin had taken over the Vulcan's face.
"Please, Doctor - do not make any promises that neither of us truly intend to keep," he replied, before heading back to the bridge.
McCoy frowned for a few moments, unsure of what to do or say in response, even though it was far too late by now to do anything. In the absence of any other reaction, he burst out laughing, his shoulders heaving, burying his face in his hands as he laughed.
"You goddam green-blooded hobgoblin!" he giggled, shaking his head as he walked back towards his desk.
THE END