Does he, or doesn't he?

Chapter 1

The captain's office was piled high with work, for even the most excellent First Officer in Fleet couldn't stem the tide of 430 officers and crew all wanting to take leave at once. With the Enterprise putting in for a long refit after the Tholian Web affair, and concurrent engine damage, every crewman and officer who could be spared for the few weeks of refitting was shipping out. But McCoy had never been known to be put off by any lack of welcome when he was on a roll. Though all the chairs in Kirk's office were piled high with computer pads, tapes and rosters, McCoy just leaned against the bulkhead, a gleam in his eye, and a smile plastered on his face.

"Dare I offer congratulations?" he asked.

"You can offer them," Kirk said, not looking up from his work. "I'll even accept them. Though it might be more effective if I knew what you're congratulating me for. And while you're up, and here, can you hand me the medical section roster? It's by your elbow."

McCoy rummaged around in the organized chaos and handed it over. "I rather thought it was obvious. The congratulations, I mean."

Kirk gave him a fishy eye as he took the folder from him. "Did the Admiralty board send their promotions list to the chief surgeon instead of to this office? Or have I just won the Federation lottery?" He put another tape in the computer. "No, that can't be it. I haven't bought a ticket."

"I saw Spock's name on the Shore Leave roster. That's a first. Of many things, I suspect."

"I made it an order." Kirk looked up. "Don't you concur that it's necessary? He looks very run down, after that Tholian crisis. I was the one trapped in space, but Spock is the one who looks like death warmed over. I'm surprised that you haven't insisted on him taking leave."

"Normally I might have. But Spock and I brokered a temporary truce while you were out there in limbo."

Kirk shrugged. "I'm glad to hear it. But I would think your medical duty would take precedence over personal matters."

"He's healthy enough, for all that when he turns sideways he could disappear. Now that you're back, and," McCoy suggested, "you two are together, he'll soon be right as rain."

Kirk shrugged. "I'm sure a few days leave will help. I told him I don't care if he spends it wandering museums, listening to concerts and lectures, or sleeping till noon, so long as he gets off the ship and stays off. I don't want to see him back here until his leave is up. In fact, I've told the transporter staff not to beam him back."

McCoy lost his smile, and straightened from his slant against the bulkhead. "You're not going on leave?"

Kirk stacked a bunch of reports and shifted them, waving his arms over the teetering pile. "Bones, are you crazy? With all this work that's built up while I was gone?"

"Spock was in command."

"And he did fine, but I'm back now, and there are things only a Captain can do. That a captain must do. Or at least review. I don't have time for leave right now. And caught in that beam, I came back pretty much the same as I left, oxygen aside. And now I've got work."

"But I really thought…" McCoy sank down in the nearest chair.

"Bones, I really don't have time for a chat. And you're sitting on the entire Engineering section's duty rosters."

McCoy pulled them out from under his derriere and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor. "Spock is taking leave -- and you're not going with him?"

Kirk eyed him. "Didn't we just have this discussion? You talk like it's some given. It's not usual for a Captain and his first officer to take leave together. In fact," he added with a reminiscent grin, "most of the leaves I've been on, a Vulcan would certainly be out of place as a companion. Do you remember that little place on Orion--"

"The only time Spock has taken leave since I've known him – and you're not going along? When I saw his name, I thought for sure you engineered it. That if he was taking leave, you would to. That you would be together."

Kirk looked annoyed at being pulled back from his fond reminisces. "Last I checked, he was not only an adult, at least by Federation standards if not Vulcan ones, but a Starfleet officer. I think a Commander as decorated as he is can manage to go on leave, Bones, without his captain's escort."

"Good lord, Jim. I figured you were the only reason that Vulcan was taking leave. I figured you'd finally…" McCoy trailed off, eyeing Kirk doubtfully. "You mean, you're not?"

Kirk settled his elbows precariously on the piles of work and rubbed his forehead wearily. "What am I not understanding? We'd finally what? We're not what?"

"You know," McCoy said, uneasily.

"I do?" Kirk paused, thinking, scratching his scalp, and then looked puzzled. "I don't, actually."

"But everyone knows."

"Really? Good for them." Kirk sat up again, barely rescuing an unbalanced stack before it crashed to the floor. "Someday you can have them tell me. When I'm not so busy. For now, Bones," Kirk gestured dramatically, "I'm sure you have--"

"It's evident in every look."

"It is?" Kirk wrinkled his brow. "Every look, huh? Well then it must be true, I guess. Whatever it is. What is it?"

"Why that you and Spock."

"Me and Spock what?" When McCoy didn't answer, Kirk stared at him, then his eyes widened slightly and a flush crept over his features. "You're not implying…Bones, is this some sort of joke?"

"I thought – you mean you two are not serious?"

Kirk sat back, letting the medical section leave reports go skiing down the paper slope to the floor. "Good Lord, Bones. What sort of fevered imagination do you have? In our myriad shared shoreleaves, in the many brothels, sex dens and port dalliances you and I have patronized, in the many women you've seen me involved with, have you ever once noticed me even taking a glance at anyone not of the opposite sex?"

"But I thought Spock was different."

"Different? Of course, he's different. You don't get much different than a Vulcan/human hybrid conning a starship. So far as I know, he's the only one. But really, I think friendship's enough of a stretch for him. You know how Vulcans feel about human emotions." Kirk grinned at that and went to retrieve his papers. "That's good. Feel about emotions? Get it, Bones? Ha-ha."

"Jim, you really are terrible at jokes."

Kirk looked miffed. "I'm a Starship Captain, not a comedian."

"That's my line. And to answer you, I've just seen, for the last month, the evidence of how devoted he is to you. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep. All he could think of was rescuing you. He's devoted."

Kirk shrugged, his amusement put aside as he restacked his work. "To his Commanding Officer. That Vulcan loyalty was extended just as much to Chris Pike, if you remember."

"All right then. Spock aside, what about you? You can't tell me you don't feel…something."

Kirk paused, his eyes rolling. "What do you want from me, Bones? He's as close as a brother. We're lucky in that respect. Half the Fleet's senior officers are at each other's throats like cats and dogs. Mirror universe aside, half our Captains feel a little edgy about their ambitious Firsts. And Spock wasn't all that fond of me when I first took over. Given all that, I think we do rather well just being friends."

"The way you look at him-- I just assumed."

"Huh? Bones, Spock does not have the anatomy -- for me at least – that favors long looks."

"I don't mean leering at him," McCoy said, exasperated. I mean …looks of affection."

"Of course I regard him with affection. He's a friend. And I've admitted, as close as a brother. And that's all I've ever considered him to be."

"I thought I saw – Look, now we have this conversation out in the open, do you really mean to say that you don't want it to be more than that?"

Kirk shook his head, and leaned on his elbows on his stack of reports. "Bones, what can you be thinking? Putting aside that I've never wavered in my regard for the ladies, I'm a starship captain. And Spock is a subordinate officer. It's outside of regulations."

"On a five year mission, people naturally form attachments. There's been precedent on other ships – male/female, I grant, but it's the same thing."

"No," Kirk said. "It's not. Good Lord, Bones, you know what the Admiralty is like. A more hide-bound, bunch of ultraconservative dinosaurs never were. I get enough grief from some of them for having a half Vulcan first officer – regardless that Spock is the most decorated one in the Fleet. They have to accept the fact of him, but they don't much like it. If they ever suspected me of regarding him in the way you imagine, I could throw aside all my hopes for Flag rank. And Spock would never see a Captain's braid."

"If Spock wanted a Captaincy, he'd of had one by now. And I didn't think you wanted Flag rank."

"Not now, no. But sure, after another five year mission or two. Naturally I want it. A fleet.

And if there's another war, I damn sure want to command a squadron. Do you think I'd get that if anyone thought I had such tendencies? No. Things haven't changed that much in Starfleet. The competition for the top ranks is fierce. I'd never make it up the ranks and keep a space command if … well, if that were suspected of me. And Spock would have made First in half the time, if he weren't half Vulcan," Kirk grinned again, "get that, Bones? Half the time, half--"

McCoy made a pained look. "Don't, Jim. I still can't believe it of you. And Spock never wanted command anyway. But you -- you'd trade Spock for a flag?"

"I'm not trading him for anything," Kirk said impatiently. "I don't want him that way at all. But even if I did -- and I don't -- it would mean risking losing command of the Enterprise. And losing all hope of promotion. Why, two officers of command rank on the same ship can't have that kind of personal liaison, male or female. You know damn well that Fleet policy is to ground at least one, if not both. To start such a relationship would be to lose everything. Spock threw away a life on Vulcan for space duty. And I've worked damn hard, all my life, Bones, to make Starship Command. I can't imagine how you, of all people, who know us both so well, could imagine we'd choose otherwise."

"I just thought…It seemed a …natural progression."

Kirk regarded him skeptically. "Come on, Bones. You've seen my psych profile. You know Command is almost everything to me. That shouldn't be a surprise."

"I…guess not. But somehow, it is."

"Well then," Kirk shrugged. "I guess you're not as good a psychologist as you thought."

"I guess not."

"Aside from your extraordinary supposition, and professional considerations, it wouldn't be very kind of me as a friend, either, would it? Even if I was so inclined – and I'm not -- just think of the hassles for us both if we had those tendencies. Joining Starfleet for a relatively short time by Vulcan standards lost him his father's regard for 18 years. Can you imagine what a bombshell would be dropped on their reconciliation if what you imagined came to pass? And after he just reconciled with his parents? I'd never do that to Spock."

"Sarek seemed to have chosen who he wanted to marry, after all."

"And I'm sure Spock will, when the time comes. Some nice Vulcan girl. And even me, someday. But, really, Bones-- " Kirk shook his head "Whoever passed this rumor to you, needs to be told they're completely out of line."

"No one passed it to me," McCoy said. "It was just…I don't know, Jim. Maybe I did read too much into a few looks."

"After seeing so much of Chris Chapel's longing looks at Spock, you're starting to see them in everyone. Lord, it seems like every girl on the ship takes a fancy to him, at least for a bit. Even Uhura. Though she doesn't do more than tease. No sick cow looks from her. But I tell you, Bones," Kirk said, warming to his subject, "having that woman on the bridge is sometimes more punishment than pleasure. Particularly when I've been too long between shore leaves myself. I've gotten rid of the clinging yeomen, but Uhura, now… She'd tempt even a work inundated Captain to a leave. Or, even a Vulcan, I wager, if she really put her mind to it. Of course, Uhura's ambitious in herself. She never does more than a little light banter. She knows better than to be inappropriate." Kirk eyed Bones fondly. "You know, maybe it's you that needs the leave, Bones. You had a rough time on that Tholian mission too. Spock looks like a spare twig. And you're starting to see things that aren't there. And I don't mean me winking in and out of Tholian space."

McCoy looked both shattered and embarrassed. "Maybe you're right. I am sorry, Jim. For the misunderstanding. Maybe I should take leave."

"Do. Say hi to Spock if you see him. And speaking of leaves, there's a whole slew of crewmen who won't get to take theirs if I don't get back to work."

"Sure." McCoy rose unsteadily. "Right. Well, I'll just let you to get to it." He turned back at the door, "And Jim--"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"I'm really am sorry. Some men would have decked me."

"Forget it. You know what they say about Space Fever. After you've been out long enough, anyone looks good. Maybe you've just got a quirky touch of it. You don't feel it yourself, but you ascribe the symptoms to your patients."

"No," McCoy protested. "Well--"

"You have to admit, there is something odd about the medical section and Spock. Chapel gets all soppy over him. And now you ascribe the same feelings to me."

"Not soppy. But--" McCoy shrugged. "You're right. I was out of line. Again, I apologize."

"Don't mention it, Bones. At least you gave me a good laugh on an afternoon when I really needed one. But now," he said, with a gesture to his work and a meaningful edge to his voice, "Laughs aside, this stuff can't wait."

"Sure, sure," McCoy backed out, eager to make his escape after his embarrassing faux pas, and let the doors close behind him, with a snap that seemed to echo Kirk's parting tone. McCoy turned, regarding them, seeing the name plate on the door as if for the first time. Captain James T. Kirk McCoy wondered how he'd overlooked that the Captain always overruled the man. "Don't mention it," he muttered, echoing that phrase, grateful Kirk was being so blasé about his mistake. Then he turned and looked back, so abruptly a crewman bumped into him. "Excuse me, sir."

"Don't mention it," McCoy repeated absently "I mean," he flushed, recollecting himself, "sorry, crewman." The crewman moved off, looking back once or twice as McCoy still stood as if pole-axed, unnoticing he was causing concern. McCoy then shook himself free as if from a spell. "Don't mention it?" he said to himself, and gave the door a double take. "Don't mention it? Could he have meant…? No, no. This time, I know I'm wrong. I can't imagine what I was thinking." He trundled on down the corridor. And then he turned back once more. And shook his head again. "No, I'm reading too much into things. After all, this is Jim Kirk. And Spock… I'm as bad as Christine, reading love into the slightest show of emotion. Space fever is right. Why the next thing, I'll be seeing little green men."

And then he turned back one last time. "Little green men?!"

"Are you all right, Doctor?" The crewman who'd been using the time before his leave to take a curious tour of the legendary deck five, sheer officer's country, returned to him, concerned about the CMO's odd behavior.

"I don't know." McCoy said dryly.

"You're talking to yourself," the crewman politely informed him, his eyes rolling just a trifle at this evidence of the sure conviction, rampant among the lower decks, that all officers -- even the CMO – were as mad as snakes and were best carefully humored. Rumor was they got giddy on the rarified oxygen levels on the upper decks. It made him rather eager to get back to his own level, if this was the result of breathing the pure air of officer's country.

"Right now, Crewman." McCoy squinted at his face until he recognized him "Jones, I'm the only person who's safe for me to talk to about this."

"Yes, sir," Jones said, politely and made a hasty escape away from Deck Five madness. He hadn't seen the Captain, or the Vulcan exec. Nor even Sulu, dancing up and down the corridors with a saber. But he had seen the sawbones walking up and down, talking to himself about little green men. He'd gotten at least one good story to tell.

Whereas McCoy was still half convinced he still had a story to conceal. Or not.