AN: Rp journal fic, prompted by 'kiss on the forehead' and Nyota Uhura/Leonard Mccoy. I'm a huge fan of this ship, and tried something a little different with this fic. Not entirely sure how I like it, but, yes. Lyrics borrowed from Edwin McCain and his beautiful song, "I'll be."
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The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful, stop me and steal my breath
Drawn together, a friendship built on trust and understanding. Don't try to understand why I'm with Spock. Don't try to understand why I need that whiskey bottle at the end of the day. Don't ask, don't tell. Don't hurt, don't push.
Something became lost, a wire crossed and sparks flew, flinging the two together into an electric muddle. You shouldn't be with him, you shouldn't turn to the bottle.
I'll be captivated
Another twirl, her resting back in his strong embrace. A hand on her waist, their fingers entwined, they stood in the center of his sparsely decorated cabin, save a photo or two of the only woman he would ever truly love again, Joanna, the soft hum of music barely noticeable as they danced.
I'll be your crying shoulder
Neither of them looked at the other. Leonard held her like a man determined to never let go, and Nyota stood with her head buried against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his human heartbeat. Heat radiated, warming every inch of them both. His joy, his sadness; it all hung thick in the air. Despite the tension, she welcomed it.
I'll be your love suicide
He's too emotional. So much more emotional than him. She won't leave him. He won't ask her to. They won't admit how they feel, but they won't stop late night rendezvous. They only ever hold hands, they never kiss. He asks no questions, and she offers no answers. He knows she needs someone to speak with emotion, look at her with uninhibited passion. She knows he's lonely, wary of being hurt.
It's not an affair of the body, but of the mind. He refuses to ever become the other man in any physical sense. He tried to resist it in the emotional, but he is only so strong.
Tell me that we belong together
They sway together in the dimmed light of his room, often in simple silence, enjoying the feel of a body against their own. They can kid themselves that it is satisfying enough, this way. They do not tumble into a bed together, but the contact between the two is palatable enough.
Dress it up with the trappings of love
The song is ending. His time with her flittering away. He knows it's always the same; she takes what she needs emotionally, he takes what he needs to starve off the feeling of being lonely. His hands, so strong and firm around her weaken in anticipation. No words to say, no questions to ask.
She looks at him with a simple look of adoration, and it breaks his already fractured heart. He knows it's reflected in his eyes, and he sees a twitch of her lip. Her poker face isn't as strong as she would like it to be, and he knows she's breaking too.
I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips
She steps back from him, her gaze wavering just like it always did. As if afraid to continue, un-trusting of her own strength of will. He nods to her silent question Yes, you should go now.
He walks her to the door like a true gentleman should, the space between them wide, yet still not enough.
I've been dropped out, burned up
He whispers her name, she whispers his back. A routine, tradition, need. Both need to know it is they the other think of. Not a bottle of Jack, or another man. He steps forward, presses his lips to her temple, a tender press to her warm skin. It's as far as he is ever willing to go. She knows that.
Till next time. Because there will be a next time. There will always be a next time.
You're my lifeline, you make me smile, you understand me in ways nobody else could
But don't ask, don't tell. A little haunting secret.