Leonard notices the little things. When Jim is feeling frustrated he overdoes it in the gym and limps onto the bridge the next morning, knuckles red and swollen and another punching bag ruined. Chekov can be seen eating borscht in the mess hall when he is homesick, uncharacteristically subdued, staring into his food instead of chatting animatedly. Sulu spends his off duty hours in the arboretum when he is missing his daughter, nurturing his plants in place of her. Leonard notices these things because he is a doctor, and because he cares about this motley bunch of adrenaline junkies who have become his surrogate family.
It took him a while to admit to himself that the reasons he notices Spock go beyond his Hippocratic oath. Spock is... special. And Spock has been acting strange lately. Not that he isn't usually strange - because God knows Leonard will drink to that - but this is a different kind of strange. He's been... off. Leonard considers it an accomplishment that he can even pick up on these small changes in Spock demeanour, impenetrable as the man usually is. He took all of the prerequisite psychology courses required for working in the medical department of a starship of course, but despite the (remarkably uninformative) chapter on Vulcan mind processes, he understands Spock about as well as one of Scotty's engineering-based rants. Which is to say, not well at all.
The first few days after the incidents surrounding Krall, he'd felt closer than ever to Spock. Perhaps the idyllic surroundings of the Yorktown were partially to blame, or the fact that everyone was feeling a little high on pure relief and exhaustion. They had connected on that planet, Leonard and Spock, and loathe as Leonard was to risk sounding like a teenage girl, he felt Spock had finally let him in, shown a little vulnerability. It wasn't even awkward after Spock's aborted confession of respect and admiration, as Leonard had anticipated.
They bantered as usual at Jim's birthday party, the insults getting more and more outrageous (and all good natured underneath) and Spock's eyebrow climbing ever higher, the corner of his lip very subtly doing the same. Leonard would call him a green-blooded forest elf and Spock would quietly huff with amusement, while Leonard tried to suppress the affection he felt for the half-Vulcan and ultimately failed.
But that was three months ago.
Now Spock stares quietly into his glass at their regular bridge crew meet ups, (which Nyota likely has had to drag him to) or into the middle distance somewhere beyond the bar, appearing somewhat bored to the casual observer but remarkably spaced out to the trained eye. Jim asks him a question and he answers in monosyllables, his warm gaze and sharp wit glaringly absent. Leonard makes a remark intended to provoke a debate and Spock nods absently, not even bothering to disagree. Leonard suspects he hasn't even heard him.
Spock has lost weight, and unlike Jim, Leonard has never had to hound him to eat properly before because 'providing oneself with optimal nutritional intake is logical.' He had often wondered how Spock subsisted on all those salads, what with the rigorous physical training he did on the ship, but in his physicals he always came up healthy as a horse so he left him alone about it.
Now he is drawn and tired looking, and much thinner than he was just a few weeks ago. Spock doesn't seem the type to hide an illness from his doctor (unlike a certain starship captain he knows) but Leonard resolves to check in with him when he has the chance, though that doesn't seem likely to be soon. They are all being kept busy on the base while the ship is being constructed. Leonard is working in the main medical centre on the Yorktown, mainly dealing with errant engineers and construction workers who got a bit too enthusiastic with a welder, or some other dangerous construction paraphernalia while working on the ship. He thinks Spock is working in a lab somewhere but he isn't sure. He rarely sees him lately unless he has been coerced into socialising by Nyota (which isn't often, Spock is a stubborn bastard).
"Doctor." Leonard startles out of his musings and turns his head at the interruption, gently placing the hyposprays he had been loading back in their box. Speak of the devil, Spock stands sheepishly in the doorway, looking a little disgruntled at where he seems to have found himself.
"I require assistance," Spock continues, looking at the floor.
Whatever Spock needs help with doesn't appear to be urgent, and the reluctance he speaks with makes Leonard suspect it's something private. He strives to be a professional when treating patients (despite the fact that inevitably when working on a starship most of the people you are treating are your closest friends), but he cannot help a small moment of glee at the thought that Spock may have to awkwardly tell him he has contracted some sort of minor STD. But knowing Spock, the bastard would probably just tell him something like that completely straight-faced without a hint of embarrassment (because embarrassment over bodily functions is illogical), and there's no fun in that. Emotions, now those are a whole different kettle of fish.
"Well why don't you follow me into the office and we can talk about it," Leonard offers, carefully noting Spock's disheveled appearance as he follows him through and they take their seats on either side of the desk. His face is stubbly and his shirt creased and worn looking- reasonable attire for a human on a day off, but for Spock it's the equivalent of turning up in a potato sack.
"I've actually been meaning to catch up with you, how's the side doing?"
"Adequate." Spock is still not looking him in the eye. There is an uncomfortable pause. Leonard leans back in his chair and narrows his eyes.
"So what's the problem then?"
Spock gently clears his throat and takes a breath.
"I believe I have contracted the mental illness known as 'depression'." Another pause. Spock finally looks up to meet Leonard's eyes, and Leonard hastily stops gaping at him.
"You- depression?" he blurts. He knows it really isn't that surprising, considering how Spock's been acting lately, but it's still a shock to hear him say it like that. He gathers himself together and internally winces at his unprofessionalism. He is a doctor, and right now he needs to be helping Spock, not expressing disbelief. He can see how much of an effort it took Spock to even come here today, and from the way he's shifting his feet and looking at anything but Leonard it's clear he's regretting it already.
"Ok," Leonard says, sounding more calm than he feels. "We can do something about that." He opens his desk drawer and shuffles some papers around before pulling out a clipboard, Spock now looking out the window to his left.
"So, first of all I'm going to need to ask you a few questions, see if we can start on getting you diagnosed properly, is that alright?" Spock nods once.
Leonard clears his throat. "Can you give me an indication of how often over the past two weeks you have been feeling down? Every few days, every day, once in a while?" Leonard realises his mistake before he's finished speaking, and waits for Spock's usual objection to use of the word 'feelings'.
"Every day," Spock replies. Huh. Leonard makes a note on his clipboard.
"And do these feeling last for more than half the day?"
"Yes."
"Have you been feeling less inclined to socialise, or take part in physical activities?"
"Yes."
"Can you give me an estimate of how many hours sleep you get every night?"
"Less than three hours, although I find myself more inclined to fall asleep for short periods during the day," Spock mumbles. Jesus, no wonder the man looks haggard, he isn't sleeping properly at all.
"Lastly, have you been having suicidal thoughts? Frequently, sometimes, or never?"
"Never."
"Ok Spock," Leonard masks his relief at that last answer. "The next step is finding you a therapist, I can make you an appointment with someone as soon as tomorrow- "
"I would prefer not to see a therapist," Spock cuts him off. "I feel medication would be more beneficial."
Leonard looks at him for a moment and sighs. "Spock, medication is rarely prescribed without the purview of a proper psychiatrist, you'd need to have a few sessions first to see what will suit you best and then your mental condition will have to be monitored throughout to see if the dosage needs to be changed. Personally, I don't even like to prescribe medication if it's not absolutely necessary, often therapy alone can be just as successful."
Spock's expression is no longer blank, if anything he looks desperate, and Leonard aches with sympathy.
"I am not comfortable talking to a stranger." Of course. Spock is far too private a person to divulge his shameful human feelings to someone he doesn't know intimately.
Leonard's eyes flick down to Spock's hands, which are clenched tightly together in his lap, folded reminiscent of his usual poise and decorum, but the white of his knuckles gives away how uncomfortable he is.
"Well, normally I wouldn't suggest this because we have a personal relationship, which doesn't usually mix in these situations, but I think you might be a special case." He smiles tentatively at Spock, who doesn't react. "I am trained in psychotherapy as per Starfleet's standards, so if you want to talk to me and see how that goes, that's an option."
Spock looks up and Leonard is alarmed to see a sheen in his eyes, reminiscent of their conversation about the death of the ambassador on Altamid, except then he had been choosing to express his grief. Now he looks like he's given up.
"I would like to attempt whatever you conclude will help," he whispers. "I find I am no longer in control of my emotions and I would like this to stop."
He looks so incredibly pathetic that Leonard itches to reach across the desk and grab his hand in solidarity, or perhaps throw an arm over his shoulders. His common sense tells him that this would not be well received. He takes a sticky note from the pile on his desk and scrawls a time on it.
"Tomorrow morning ok? In here?"
"That is acceptable," Spock replies, taking the note. He folds it carefully and sticks it in his pocket before standing up slowly and wandering out of the office without so much as a 'goodbye'.
There was a point when Leonard would have been loathe to admit feeling any sort of fondness for anyone, there's too much vulnerability in someone knowing you care about them, and after the train wreck that was his marriage he was wary for a long time.
But now he has matured a little, has lived through things that he never thought he would and he knows that trying not to care is not worth it. It is the people he surrounds himself with every day that make life worth living, and the moments of sadness make the joy even brighter. He loves Jim, and Nyota and Scotty and everyone else. But there's a special place in his weathered old heart for Spock. That hobgoblin wormed his way into Leonard's affections with his dry sense of humour and his stupid eyebrows and his secret-but-not-so-secret utter romantic gooey core (that necklace, what a sap).
They argue, but everyone knows there's no anger in it, that this is their version of Nyota and Christine's enthusiastic gossip over coffee in the mess hall. Sometimes, ten minutes in, Leonard will realise he's wrong, but he keeps going, his points getting more and more ridiculous and Spock's not-a-smile getting bigger and bigger. He just has to take one look at the way Spock twists his lip and ducks his head adorably and he forgets what they were talking about. Often their exchanges will end with Leonard laughing at the faces Spock's pulling by trying to not pull faces, and Spock sighing in mock exasperation.
More of his time is spent thinking about Spock than he would like to admit. It's easy to let his thoughts wander to what most would agree is almost universally the most interesting individual in the room. And can you blame him, really? With his bow lips and twitchy mouth and really rather large nose that somehow fits his damn face perfectly. And the stupid cap of incredibly soft looking hair that Leonard would give his best bottle of bourbon to spend a few minutes running his hands through. Spock would look cute with messy hair. And those eyes... those molten iron, melted chocolate, fucking puppy dog emotional eyes. Spock's demeanour says 'I need personal space', but his eyes scream 'hug me'.
Perhaps this fixation is somewhat unhealthy. For all Leonard loves Jim like a little brother, he doesn't crave his company like he does Spock's. He's not stupid, not at all (he is a doctor), he knows what a crush is. And he's smart enough to know that this is significantly worse than that. One way or another, Leonard is going to get hurt. He learned his lesson with Jocelyn when it came to overly high expectations. Spock is in a long-term relationship with a woman, probably isn't even attracted to men. The chances that he could feel anything like this for Leonard are exceptionally low. But Leonard doesn't give a shit. He's done with giving a shit.
There will be no distancing himself from Spock and agonising over unrequited feelings. He's going to enjoy the time he does spend with him and hopefully eventually move on. That is the adult thing to do. Spock would almost certainly not be disgusted with how Leonard feels - he'd probably let him down gently and go back to acting like nothing had been said at all. But there is no point in complicating things, especially now Spock is relying on him.
Leonard looks down at his own messy scrawl on the checklist of Spock's symptoms.
He's going to bring the light back to those brown eyes and he's going to do it soon.
