Most times Spock came to him only in his sleep. Their bond was there, but maybe they had grown apart as people? McCoy missed him so much, but when Spock was home, he could not but resent him for reasons that weren't his fault. It's been almost a year now since they've seen each other in person. In dreams they're together constantly… it's the bond's fault, it was torturing McCoy with longing he wouldn't let Spock to amend. But at least it proved the bond was still there. If it stopped hurting, McCoy wouldn't know what to do.

Spock could be on an another planet, and his "projection", or whatever, still found its way to McCoy's dreams. McCoy didn't know much of the logistics of it. He had once asked if the dreams were real, but Spock's explanation didn't make much sense to him.

"Dreaming is a way for the marriage bond to manifest itself. It's not more real or unreal than your own thoughts. It is essentially a visualization", Spock had told him.

"You're saying, that I'm seeing what I want to see? Pff, sounds pretty hokey, I thought you pointy-eared bastards were above that sort of thing."

"Just because the experience is subjective, doesn't mean it's not impacting", said Spock and that was something McCoy huffed at in bitter bemusement. To think that he had to live up to 138 years till he heard Spock to get wholly Holy Roller with his Vulcan mysticism. Guess being reborn would do that to anyone. He's not any less insufferable computer calculator though, he's just admitted that some calculations have permanent parameter failures. Like, you can't take love into account. Or what it will do to you.

Or how the loss might blow you blind.

You couldn't gloss over the fact, that though Spock was old too, McCoy was really on his last leg here. McCoy would have never guessed he'd settle living on Vulcan, out of all places, especially when Spock wasn't even on the planet most of the time. He couldn't get angry at him, or fault him for it though. It was only reasonable for Spock to think ten years, twenty, hell, a hundred years ahead. He's gonna be around.

And here you though Leonard H. McCoy wasn't logical!

He was a Doctor, so he didn't fear death. At this point he knew it would come as well as it can. It was good thing Spock was keeping himself busy and entangled with politics and whatnot. More things to fall back to, once McCoy were no longer here. What else he could reasonably expect him to do? It's not like McCoy made him feel welcome when he was around. Something made him fear more he touched and loved Spock, more he would hurt later.

Guess it made sense to wean him off gradually, to hell with McCoy's own desires! He's always been so good on mercy, even when it comes with a cost to his own soul.

In the dream it was always a nice day. Spock had explained, that bondmates, who were exceptionally close, could even telepathically talk to each other from a distance. They had never managed it. McCoy himself suspected it was his damned emotionalism coming between the effort. Besides, who in their right mind would want to open their head to a Vulcan 24/7? Even if your headspace was filled with sugar and spice and everything nice, it is what it is. An invasion of the privacy Humans aren't accustomed sharing. Even if you had one of those so called balanced personalities, it's nothing compared to a Vulcan one. And McCoy knows, he's seen Spock's mind from the inside. He's a real neat freak, in real life and in thoughts. Maybe that's why the long-distance-connection creeps only when McCoy is sleeping, when his outermost guards are down.

Or perhaps McCoy is allowing himself to explore the bond only when Spock is away. If he was in his bed, he'd respond to the dreaming telepathically regardless if McCoy wanted it or not. It felt safe this way. The bond wasn't so threatening when you could be sure it was in your control. And sometimes distance really makes you grow fonder, and Spock was so, so far away.

No fear of intervention. Just the old country doctor and his dream by the seashore with his husband. Spock was watching the sea, looking for ships. Even in McCoy's own dream he's distant. Already looking forward to something more.

"I'm just dragging you down", said McCoy, "I'm like a goddamn millstone collar around neck. You'd be on Romulus right now if I wasn't still here."

Spock side-eyed him. How is he able to look so confrontational when he's not physically here at all? All that of him that was there, was the bit that created the Vulcan marriage bond, one they both share. McCoy doesn't know what happens to it when he dies, if Spock will carry a piece of him with him always, or if it just vaporizes away. Just like he doesn't know if he's gonna drag bits and pieces of Spock to the grave with his rotting Human corpse. He's afraid to ask, both answers seem so… grim.

Spock was wearing something very alien. One of those blocky Romulan things, with the boxed shoulders and grey square patterns. It suited Spock. McCoy just wished he would have been his Spock for a little while longer. You know, Starfleet uniforms… black boots, black trousers, black undershirts…

Or maybe not undershirts. Or trousers, or boots or anything at all. 138 years and yet you'd be surprised how much lust one can have. It doesn't go away like the color your hair. Still, when it felt like Spock sensed McCoy's heated sentiments, it made McCoy fluster a little.

"I've know you for so long, Doctor, and yet I seem to be forever lost with your emotions. You wish to be intimate, and yet punish yourself for wanting."

"Stop reading my thoughts, it's damn rude", McCoy grumbled, "This dream ought to be more fun. We should be pretty young things and flying without wings. Or be naked giving a school presentation in front of the classroom. Something, hell do I know."

"You wish to be in the nude?" said Spock. It's weird how well he can hide his amusement even like this, but probably it's because as far as McCoy knows, Spock wouldn't have smiled at that. This his idealization of Spock after all.

Maybe he would have smiled, if he was lying in bed next to him. The dream corrects itself enough to allow a hint of grin to find its way to the corners of Spock's lips. He has a kind smile. Made McCoy remember again why he had loved him so much, that he had accepted the proposal, bonded and moved to Vulcan in his old days, even if their relationship was never easy and nothing but conflict after conflict. Neither of them knew how to express any feelings the way it would make them happy.

McCoy nudged his head to Spock's shoulder. There was a bluish sky and a mellow climate, the shore and the sea. Absolutely nothing was like Vulcan, but not really Earthy either. If this was supposed to be McCoy's subconscious, the part of his mind that was hosting the bond, why did it feel like he was just visiting? And why was Spock waiting a new ship to appear on the horizon? A ship McCoy wouldn't board with him.

"I get it. You can't wait to be rid of me", he said bitterly. That's something that even dream-Spock reacted to.

"I can never be without you, Leonard", he stated.

"What would you want me to believe? I'm in your father's house, with your father's new wife, and I feel so alone when you're not with me."

Spock looked like he was being at loss, almost pained. He reached his hand to his husband, sliding his fingers on the edge of his palm.

"You push me away when we're together", he said, "You shield your mind and deny my affection when I offer it to you."

McCoy fell silent. It was the truth, or course it was. He had never felt comfortable sharing as much Vulcan bondmates would share with each other. He had even witnessed Sarek and Amanda, and later Perrin, blossom in their telepathic union with unbearable envy, but him and Spock… too much baggage. Everything from the invading mind meld of the Spock of the mirrored world to Kolinahr, and Spock dying… and not just that, but also McCoy own fears of failure. His divorce didn't feel like it was long ago at all.

There was love, but also disappointment and Vulcan and Human expectations. This ugly mess of tangled garbage was between them, interfering.

Spock took his hand. In real life he probably wouldn't. They hadn't touched each other so nonchalantly or unconcerned since the first five-year-mission. It hurt so much. And yet McCoy was longing for it, craved for it, he latched on to Spock's arm like it was the lifesaver.

"Yeah. You're right", he sighed, "I've been unfair. Unloving. Untrusting. I'm sorry, Spock."

Spock took his time to make up a following answer as well.

"In a way, I can be close to you, when I'm not with you", he said. Why does he have to be so cryptic?

"Does that mean, you dream of me too?" McCoy asked. That time, finally, Spock looked at him properly, and he didn't look like an idealized vision or a dreamy delusion at all. This was his husband, right there.

"I am always dreaming of you, ashayam", he said and kissed McCoy. A wave of the ocean wetted their feet. A touch of the hand, a stroke of the neck, it all blended together into a gorgeous full circle. That was the bond as it was meant to be – a half-less and sideless, unopinionated and unproblematic. Which, of course, was not at all how it was when Spock was home. McCoy was overwhelmed with an odd sensation of relief and forgiveness and he wept.

"I think it's time for you to come home", he said firmly, "I've made you sleep on the couch too long already."

"Sleep on the couch?" Spock raised an eyebrow, as if he didn't know what his husband meant. McCoy couldn't be sure if it was sincere or if he just enjoyed annoying him. But if you'd ask McCoy, he'd suggest the latter one.

"Just drag your ass on Vulcan, or I will go as far as Romulus to whip it myself!" McCoy threatened, and out of uncharacteristic tenderness Spock left out a comment, that it would be irresponsible and downright impossible for an old man like him to follow through the intended threat. Instead, he kissed him once more, and let a ship pass them by without a second glance.

FIN