Title: How to Apologize to a Vulcan
Rating: PG
Characters: Spock/McCoy
Series: Star Trek TOS
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. This is for fun.
A/N: Written for ST_respect on LJ, for the Spock/McCoy Team. The prompt was "In the Dog House". I made some corrections since I submitted, so this version is slightly different.

McCoy was in the dog house. It wasn't the first time either. When you'd been divorced, there was a good chance that you were an old hat at sleeping on the couch, and McCoy was. Except he and Spock weren't exactly married, and unlike Jocelyn, Spock would either just avoid him on shifts or pretend he didn't exist outside of a professional relationship for awhile. That was something else that was different: Jocelyn had been an explosion going off, but it was generally over with within a few days. Spock, on the other hand, could stay annoyed for weeks on end. That last parting shot before Spock had stepped on that turbolift had sealed the deal. His ego was still smarting over it. He didn't employ beads or rattles, dammit!

But there'd been something different in that found himself replaying that conversation over and over. He'd offended Spock somehow.

McCoy spent most of his shift doing paperwork, a routine checkup on an ensign, doing tests, and thinking how to approach Spock. Going up for a direct confrontation on the bridge was out of the question. Their relationship was still fresh, only a month old. Jim wouldn't care, though he'd no doubt be surprised. Then he'd never hear the end of it. McCoy didn't think his sanity could take it. Jim could get nigh insufferable when he got in those teasing moods. But while McCoy didn't give a damn who knew, Spock was different. He was an intensely private man. He wouldn't care to have him broadcasting all over the place that he involved on an emotional level with a human being, especially one who half the ship thought was his nemesis.

He privately suspected that the human factor wasn't nearly as damning as the emotional factor.

The doctor finally decided on waiting until it was nearing the first half of his shift. Spock had a meeting around one of the labs on the upper level right now. He'd be on shift for three more hours. McCoy had another hour himself. The question was when could McCoy catch him with the least amount of staff present.

He ended up waiting ten more minutes. He was going to wait another for good measure, but he could already feel some of that courage he'd worked up dying out. McCoy was no stranger to putting his neck on the line or standing up to beings twice his size and then some. However, this was ISpock/i. An upset Spock at that, and there was a certain way to going about it. The problem was that McCoy didn't have any idea what that was.

To his relief, the lab was empty, save for two people. Spock was sitting at a console, back to the door. Lieutenant Allens looked up as McCoy walked in. A middle-aged woman, she was heavily freckled, with a mass of pale hair settled on her shoulders and wide orange eyes. She might have had some distant Saurian in there somewhere. It gave her a piercing, almost haughty look about her.

"What brings you here, doctor?" she asked pleasantly. Was it him or did Spock's shoulders just tighten up?

"Just a professional matter I need to discuss with Mr. Spock," McCoy said, knowing full well it wasn't. He was trying his damnedest to play in Spock's court right now. He hadn't tried being on his best behavior like this since before his divorce. Now McCoy found himself scrambling trying to get back on Spock's good side. At least enough that they could trade barbs as usual, iwithout/i the hard feelings behind them. "It won't take long."

It seemed to work. Allens didn't question it or seem to think much of it. She rose, gathering up a PADD. "I need to run these down to lab five anyway." She looked at Mr. Spock. "The cultures are looking promising, but the results won't be ready for seven hours. I don't recommend we touch the others until we know how these will react."

Spock only nodded. Allens left, the doors sliding shut behind her. For several moments, there was only the sound of beeps, the hum of the ship underneath his feet, and the soft touch of Spock's fingers on the control panel. Tack, tack tack, went those long fingers. McCoy waited patiently, but when Spock showed no sign of finishing anytime soon, McCoy felt his earlier contrition start to turn to annoyance. Spock seemed content to just sit there in silence, not even asking why he was here or what he even wanted to tell him. He didn't even acknowledge that he was standing right behind him. Spock just continued to silently work on entering information into the nearby screen.

The doctor finally blurted out. "Spock, do you have a moment?"

Spock turned, almost mechanically McCoy thought, and regarded him coolly. A shiver went down his spine. He felt that last bit of courage go right then. He should probably just leave Spock to it. Spock would sort it out. He'd probably just insist Vulcans didn't need apologies anyway, that they didn't serve any logical purpose.

Saving his hide warred momentarily with doing the right thing. The latter won out. McCoy was in the wrong and he wasn't afraid to admit it.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier. When I was talking about Norman, I didn't mean to imply there was something wrong with you. I didn't mean to offend you," McCoy started to say, then realized too late that that was exactly the wrong thing to even mention. Spock was Vulcan, which meant he'd insist all the way down to his deathbed that he was governed only by logic and not emotions: that his race had stamped them out and solved all their social problems because of it. At this rate, they'd even move on and cure the common cold too with it, just to prove a point. And since Mr. Spock decidedly didn't have emotions, he couldn't get offended. McCoy was insulting him at this rate.

Just as he feared, Spock's face grew even harder. His eyebrows seemed to freeze right into place.

"There's nothing wrong with you," McCoy hurried on. Even so, he could feel this quickly slipping out of his control. "What I Imeant/i to say is that his behavior is strange for a human. Humans generally are a lot more open, and Norman feels like he's hiding something. He doesn't even smile. But you're different, since that's the norm for a Vulcan-" Spock didn't look appeased, even for a Vulcan. He looked like he could have been made out of stone. It felt like talking to a block of it at any rate.

The doctor stared at him for a moment, then said:. "I'm digging myself even deeper, aren't I?"

"You do not have a suitable instrument currently in your possession," Spock replied stiffly. "It would also be impossible to excavate such a structure on a starship. Nor would there be any logical purpose in attempting to do so."

Spock knew exactly what McCoy was saying, but he'd been around the Vulcan long enough to know when he was deliberately being literal, to the point that if it'd come from anyone else, it'd be obtuse. It was Spock's way of putting a giant barrier between them. The First Officer was regarding him as if he about as much interest as an insect, not someone he slept with. Then he turned his attention back to the PADD.

Now McCoy was bristling right back at the Vulcan. He probably wasn't sleeping on a couch, but he was going to have Spock pretending Leonard McCoy doesn't exist for the next several weeks anyway. In McCoy's professional opinion, it was too late anyway to salvage the situation, so McCoy decided to keep on digging. His frustration finally spiraled out. How did he even get involved with a thick-headed, emotionless Vulcan? And how did he even fall head over heels for him in the first place.

The doctor yanked the PADD out of Spock's hands and set it down hard on the table, and with his other hand, forced the chair around so Spock had to face him. Spock didn't look surprised at being jerked around, but he did look annoyed... and interested, for some reason.

"I'm trying to say sorry, damn you!" McCoy exploded. Why in blazes did he even try?! "You wouldn't know remorse if it hit you in the face. I know you don't give a damn, but I'm trying to say that I was wrong. I feel bad about it. Hell, you Vulcans probably don't even have apologies, but I'm trying to say I'm sorry for hurting your feelings."

Throughout all this, Spock watched him patiently. Then he reached for the PADD before he could stop him. Spock actually wrote more down, as if McCoy didn't just go off on him. As apologies went, that was one of his worst ones yet. McCoy couldn't think of a single thing he could do to make this better.

"I get it, Mr. Spock, I'm on the couch for awhile," he finally said, then turned to go.

"There will be no need."

McCoy stopped, startled. He glanced over his shoulder. He hadn't expected Spock to say anything. He'd expected him to go back to work. Spock wasn't looking at the PADD right now. He was watching him, an eyebrow finally raised.

"You are correct. We don't see a use for apologizing in my culture. There would be no emotions to damage in the first place, nor would a Vulcan have entered into a situation where their actions weren't dictated solely by logic. A Vulcan also would not be in a situation that they would have been at fault in, if their prior actions could be explained by pure logic: there is nothing more desirable than a purely logical approach. It is also highly illogical to apologize for an action you cannot change either. "

McCoy was just barely managing to keep his mouth shut. This was the most Spock was speaking to him so far, and no doubt the most he'd actually hear from him voluntarily for weeks. Even when it was Spock about to drown him in his Vulcan logic.

"Your apology is crude, and relatively poor by human standards, as I do not believe an apology dictates yelling at the apologee," McCoy almost exploded again at him for that, but that hint of a smile ghosting around Spock's mouth suddenly shut him up. "However, despite its faults, I will accept your apology."

And Spock lifted two fingers. McCoy gaped intelligently at it for a moment. Spock hadn't ever offered that to him before. McCoy wasn't even sure what he was being offered either. The computers had mentioned something about a gesture, but hadn't said what it was supposed to mean, which wasn't a surprise. Finding anything about Vulcans was difficult, especially when just about every Vulcan he'd ever met (admittedly limited) was tight-lipped as the next. McCoy only knew that it was something quite intimate for them. The computer had also only said that two Vulcans touched their first and middle finger to the other. Somewhat awkwardly, the doctor lifted his hand and touched the tips of his fingers to the tips of Spock's.

That seemed to amuse Spock. McCoy wasn't even sure how he knew that, he was as stone-faced as usual. The First Officer calmly adjusted McCoy's hand so his fingers were touching the sides of his own fingers.

There was a strong wave of emotion. McCoy wasn't a telepath by any means, in fact, he was blind as a bat when it came down to actual empathy or mental powers, but even he could feel something. Even if he couldn't understand any actual word or specific thought, something nameless passed between them. It was a warm glow that spread from Spock and radiated outwards in his own chest. McCoy couldn't ever fully put it into words after that. But just then, a gentle happiness, contentment maybe, washed right through him.

Spock turned, and just like that, went back to his work. The connection was broken. McCoy went back to his shift, without any further angry words for Spock. Maybe he wasn't very good at apologies, but he'd certainly just been schooled in how one really accepts an apology.

(The End)