On lazy evenings, during the cold of winter, McCoy and Spock would sit with each other on the couch by the fire. They'd share a blanket and McCoy would insist on holding onto Spock, head tucked under the Vulcan's chin. The close proximity allowed Spock to take in the doctor's scent very easily. Even amongst the burning firewood, his advanced senses could pick out those scents specific to McCoy. He could detect the smell of brandy, from the glass McCoy had had earlier. The faint remnants of disinfectant permeated from his clothes due to McCoy's work at the hospital. There was the familiar cologne the doctor wore. Spock liked the cologne best. It was subtle mint scent, amongst other pleasing aromas.
Unbeknownst to Spock, McCoy was fascinating himself with the Vulcan's scent. McCoy did not have quite as advanced senses as Spock, but with his nose right at his chest, McCoy could take in plenty. Spock commonly smelled of spices, strong but not displeasing, a well-blended mix from whatever Vulcan cooking he had made during the day. There was a specific smell that McCoy had never been able to name that he attributed to Vulcan glands being different from humans'. And there was something that he could recognize but couldn't place right away... Almost like... Mint?
McCoy smiled, realizing that Spock had put on some of his cologne. He glanced at the fire and sighed. "The fire's dying out. It's getting late."
"Would you like to go to bed, Leonard?"
"After you, Spock." He sat up and waited for Spock to stand, and then grinned up at him. "By the way. I like your cologne."
Spock did not dignify that with a verbal answer and instead responded by gently pressing his fingers against McCoy's before taking his hand and leading him to their bed.
