Because, at some point, something like this would have to happen.
Disclaimer; I do not own Star trek, characters, places, etc etc, make no money off of this, so on.
It was a common sight for Commander Spock and Lieutenant Sulu to spar. This sight usually attracted quite a few onlookers, for both of those involved were quite skilled with the blade. Today, however, both would find themselves regretting the presence of the watchers.
Both were armed with heavy epees. The goal was not to land hits but to have a good exercise and keep up their reflexes, so as opposed to being fierce the fights were more artistic than anything as the two used the most complicated maneuvers possible. Because of this, neither wore any protective clothing. They were both skilled enough that the point had become to defeat the other without touching, which usually meant disarming the other or getting the blade to the other's throat. This time, this worked against them.
Later, Sulu would not be quite sure why his hand had slipped. He was an experienced fencer, nothing like this had happened in a long time. In any case, he found that he had suddenly given Mr. Spock a rather vicious cut on the hand. The Vulcan leapt back immediately, dropping his blade and cradling his hand, quickly turning green as blood poured out the deep gash.
"Sir!" Sulu dropped his blade as well. "Shit - Are you alright?" He leapt forward, reaching out to grasp the other's hand and examine the wound, only to have Mr. Spock snatch it back as though burnt, stumbling away with an indecipherable mutter. "What the... Someone get medical?" One of the ensigns rushed to a comm. Sulu didn't understand why the Vulcan looked so stricken. He had been injured much worse than this before, everyone knew that. A cut on the hand was nothing compared to that arrow that had hit him on the last mission, or the painful poison before that. Something else was wrong.
"Sir?" He asked again. Spock blinked furiously, looking a little bewildered. Sulu stepped forward again. Spock stepped back. Sulu stubbornly ignored this, moving up to grab the Vulcan's injured hand, mindful of the injury. He ignored the first sharp tug, keeping his grip firm as he inspected it, but Vulcan strength had been forgotten. A second later he was on the floor, his chest throbbing from the shove. Some from the watchers yelled for security.
Sulu stood up unsteadily, confused, but before he could do anything else two nurses and Doctor McCoy had come in. McCoy took one look at the scene - Spock, hand gushing blood and suspicious, Sulu on the floor bewildered with alien blood on his palms, and the frantic onlookers - and groaned.
"You calm down. No one's trying to attack you, snap out of it." He strode toward Spock and ignored the Vulcan's flinch, shoving him to the nurses. "Wait for me in medical."
They left, Spock still looking a little disoriented in Sulu's opinion, and McCoy scowled at him. "You hurt?"
"I... No." He shook his head. "What was that?"
"I'm assuming you accidentally cut him, tried to touch his hands?" McCoy's eyes flickered to the green blood on his palms.
"Yes - just moved away the first time, shoved me back the second time - what was the problem?"
"Vulcan hands, Mr. Sulu, are quite different than humans. Touching them finger-to-finger is the equivalent of a kiss, and I'm guessing you did more than that. So you first cut him, then full-out molested him. I imagine he would be a little violent. Wash that blood off now."
McCoy swept away with Sulu gaping after him in front of a shocked crowd of onlookers.
Afterward, he apologized to the First Officer, who assured him he 'bore no resentment over the incidence' and that Sulu 'could not be blamed for ignorance'. He still couldn't look him in the eye for weeks, though.
It also didn't help that half the crew grinned when they saw him, or when Pavel informed him of the rumors going around about him and the Commander now. And he really didn't much enjoy the captain he admired bursting into laughter at the sight of him.
Cultural miscommunications sucked.
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