Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: 2009.

Bones leaned against the wall in his quarters. He hadn't slept since his encounter with Spock. Not for lack of trying, but every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Spock and everything he had experienced. His own chest still ached with the pain of the loss the Vulcan had suffered. He wasn't sure how to make it stop. The effects of the mind-meld surely should have worn off by now, a thought that terrified him to his very core. It was one thing to share Spock's feelings. If the emotions that lingered were his own, well, he wasn't sure how to deal with that.

Things had been so much easier before, when they were black and white. When he knew he didn't like Spock and that was that. Goddamn it.

He stood up, weary and ready for a change of scenery. It was time for shore leave, which coincidentally, meant it was time to start drinking. That would be a welcome change of pace.

Bones had barely slipped into the hallway when Jim cornered him. "Oh, good, I found you."

"What is it?"

"I need a favor." Kirk flashed McCoy an award-winning smile, but he was having none of it. Not today.

"Jim, the last time I did you a favor—"

Kirk clapped his hand over the Doctor's mouth, his eyes growing wide. "I thought we agreed never to speak of that again."

McCoy wrenched away from him. "Well, they're still talking about it on Wrigley's Pleasure Planet. A lot."

"Shut up, Bones. That's an order. Now, are you going to help me, or not?"

"Do I really have a choice?"

"No."

"Fine, but you owe me one." Kirk owed him a lot, actually, now that he thought about it. He needed a ledger, or something, to keep track. "What is it?"

"It's Spock. He's been acting strange lately."

"Lately?" McCoy muttered. For once, though, his tone held no trace of bitterness.

"That's it? You're not going to make any snide remarks?"

"That green-blooded pain in the ass is always acting strange, Jim." The insult fell flat on his tongue, his exhaustion too great to care about putting Spock down. He did, however, have a reputation to uphold. Wouldn't want anyone to think he was acting strange. "So, what, you want me to examine him?"

Christ, that didn't come out right. Or maybe it did, he really wasn't sure. Jim had no reason to find double meaning in an otherwise innocent statement. McCoy was paranoid, that's all.

"Look, I was thinking maybe you could keep an eye on him during shore leave."

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a babysitter!"

"I know, I know." Kirk rubbed a hand over his face. "But if I let him go off on his own, he's liable to do nothing but work."

"How is that my problem?"

"It's not healthy, Bones. He's barely set foot off this ship in weeks. Besides, you've got no idea what it's like, having two best friends that can't stand each other. Well, I'll tell you—it's irritating."

"The hell I don't know about irritation," McCoy said. "I've got you, don't I?"

"Very funny. So you'll do it?"

McCoy took a deep breath. He hadn't even had time to process what the hell had gone on the night before, let alone how he felt about it. Spending more time with Spock would only add to his confusion. "If you're so worried, why don't you go with him?"

"There's this girl…"

Well that figured. They'd been here for one damn day, most of that devoted to work, and he had a goddamn date already. McCoy couldn't even remember how long it'd been since he'd made plans that didn't include Jim. Too long, that was for sure.

"Come on, Bones. Do it for me. Who knows, you might even find you like the guy."

That was the problem. But maybe he would find that the night before had been a fluke. Hell, it had to have been. The things he felt could be chalked up as effects of the mind-meld and nothing more. Right?

Sure, okay.

All McCoy needed to do was have some drinks, throw out a few well-placed insults, and things would go right back to how they were before. How they were supposed to be. "You owe me."

"Absolutely. Whatever you want, Bones, it's yours."

At least there was an upside to this mess. "Tell Spock I'll meet him in the transport room. And I want my weight in Romulan ale."

Kirk winced, causing McCoy's lips to stretch into a half-smile. If he was going to do Jim a favor, he sure as hell was going to make it worth it. If anything, drinking his weight in Romulan ale would erase any angst he might suffer, assuming this didn't blow over. Definitely worth it.

In the transport room, the crew had gathered together to beam down for shore leave.

"I'd really prefer to catch up on my training manuals," Scotty was saying to Kirk.

Looked like Spock wasn't the only workaholic aboard this ship. Personally, McCoy was looking forward to having a stiff drink and setting foot on solid ground for a while.

"Sorry, Scotty, but everyone has to go," Jim replied. "No exceptions."

Scotty let out a sigh. "Well, a glass of Scotch does sound agreeable."

"And vodka," Chekov chimed in, mispronouncing the v, as per usual.

"About that." Kirk stepped on the transporter pad. "I expect everyone to have a good time and relax without making a scene." He trained an eye on Scotty and Chekov. "You two in particular. Even if someone insults me."

Chekov cast his eyes toward the ground, giving a sheepish nod. The crew had yet to let him live down the events of their last shore leave.

"Aye, sir." Scotty nodded. "If someone insults the Enterprise, though—well, that's a whole other story."

Jim's face twisted, as though he were trying very hard not to grin. "I'd expect nothing less, Mr. Scott."

McCoy tapped his foot on the edge of the pad. "We get it, Jim. Now, where's Spock? I don't have all night, you know."

"I am right here, Doctor."

McCoy glanced behind him. Spock stood in the doorway, stoic as ever. "About damn time."

"I was told to meet you in the transport room, which I have. A time was never specified."

"Are we ready for transport, sir?" Scotty asked, his eyes darting between Bones and Spock.

"Great of you to ask, Scotty. We are ready." Jim flashed a look of warning to McCoy, who merely shook his head. He wasn't the one holding them up.

Spock, immune to the wordless bickering, stepped onto the pad. "Energize."

A moment later, they were gone.

The bar was crowded. Not the point of claustrophobia but busy, to say the least. The crew immediately split up, with a promise to be back on the Enterprise by morning.

Within seconds, Spock and McCoy were the only ones left standing by the door.

"Doctor, while I appreciate your efforts to assist me, they are not necessary." Spock took a step back.

"Oh, no you don't." Seizing his wrist, McCoy pulled him toward the bar. "I told Jim we'd stay together, and that's exactly what we're gonna do. Don't worry, I don't much like it either."

"If this arrangement is not agreeable to you, why do you insist on abiding by it?"

It was a reasonable question. Spending time with someone you didn't like wasn't logical, after all. But McCoy had made a promise to Jim. Even more than that, he needed to see for himself if the feelings he'd been flooded with the night before were truly his own.

Fingertips suddenly hot, Leonard's pulse sped up as he remembered he was still holding Spock's wrist. Damn it. Maybe transference wasn't to blame after all.

"Come on." He dropped the Vulcan's wrist and started toward the bar. Spock followed at his side, his fingertips grazing McCoy's as they navigated the crowded space. Tiny crackles of electricity flowed between the two, and the bar suddenly felt very small.

"Hey, Doc," the waitress said with a smile at the sight of McCoy. "Haven't see you in a while. What'll it be, sugar?"

"The usual." He glanced at Spock. "And something that really hops for my Vulcan friend here."

The edges of her lips tugged into a smile. "I've got just the thing."

Spock's eyebrows knit together. "I do not drink, Doctor."

"Maybe you should start."

"Alcohol is of little interest to me."

"It's shore leave, Spock. Inebriation is mandatory." McCoy nodded to the waitress once more. "Make it a double. For both of us."

"No problem. I'll be right over."

The unlikely duo found a table in the far corner of the room, where it was dark and somewhat quiet. McCoy took the seat that faced away from the bar, while Spock chose to observe the other patrons while they drank. Within seconds of situating themselves, the waitress returned with their order—a mint julep for the doctor and a grasshopper for the science officer.

"Let me know if you need anything else."

McCoy threw back his drink, the knot inside his chest releasing almost instantly. "Tastes like home."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware one's home had a taste."

"You know what I mean." Except, he really didn't. God, this would be so much easier if his companion was human. At least then he wouldn't feel the need to spell out every single thing he experienced. Hell, he wouldn't be in this predicament if Spock were human. "Aren't you gonna try yours?"

Spock continued to stare at the bright green concoction in his glass. "I do not understand. Is this supposed to be a comment on my race?"

McCoy couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. The color of the grasshopper hadn't even occurred to him while placing the order. He was simply operating on a rumor he'd heard regarding Vulcan inebriation. "Try it. You might like it."

Eyebrows raised, Spock took a sip. "Fascinating. The taste is better than expected."

"So you like it?" It was often hard to tell with him.

"I do not dislike it."

Three drinks later, it became apparent that Spock did, in fact, like the grasshopper. And McCoy loved mint juleps. Oh, did he ever.

The waitress had just brought them another round when a heavy man in an overcoat approached their table, cradling a ball of fluff in the crook of his left arm. "Can I interest you in a sweet, adorable tribble?"

"No," Spock said automatically.

"God, no," McCoy added before taking a sip of his drink. "Hell no."

"Come on, now," the man continued, "they're the cutest things you'll ever see."

"Damn it, man, we said no!"

Still, the intruder did not leave. He turned to Spock, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Something to warm your Vulcan heart, perhaps?"

Without even blinking, Spock reached up and nerve-pinched the man. He fell to the ground with a thud. The tribble let out a soft squeak. Around them, the patrons of the bar let out a cheer.

"Damn annoying things, those tribbles." Bones finished off what little was left of his julep.

"Indeed." Spock raised his own glass, swigging the dregs of the lime green liquid. "If a companion that drains all your resources while offering nothing in return is your main objective, a human mate would be more logical. At least then you can guarantee they won't reproduce at the speed of light."

McCoy couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped him, loud enough to rumble over the noise in the establishment. So Spock did have a sense of humor. Good to know.

Across the table, Spock's face grew pale. He set down his glass, fixing his eyes on the worn wooden tabletop. "Perhaps we should take our leave now."

Confused, McCoy turned to survey the room. Lieutenant Uhura leaned over the bar, her tiny miniskirt riding up to expose the backs of her thighs. Next to her was a man that could only be described as ruggedly handsome. He tucked a stray lock of hair back into her ponytail and raised his hand to the bartender.

"Something wrong?" McCoy had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but he wanted to hear it from Spock directly. It was the only way to know for sure.

"As I'm sure you know, Lieutenant Uhura and I had a … relationship." Spock's tone was decidedly clipped. Still, McCoy could read between the lines.

"Had being the keyword there."

"Precisely."

Leonard grinned. "Fascinating."

Spock's eyebrows furrowed together. "I believe that is usually my line, Doctor."

So Spock wanted to avoid his ex. Well, McCoy could certainly relate. He stood and gestured for the Vulcan to do the same. "I think we've found some common ground, Mr. Spock."

Those feelings had been his own, for sure. No amount of transference could last this long, or remain this intense. And maybe it was the juleps talking, but right here, right now, in this instant, McCoy had lost the urge to fight his feelings.

The hotel room would never get a five star rating, but it wasn't dismal either. Spock couldn't help but notice there was only one bed, though— a rather large one at that. His head felt fuzzier than usual, his limbs slightly unsteady, and he wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into. One thing was certain: he would not be alone tonight. This brought him both immense relief and deep satisfaction. However, nerves were also a factor.

"It would have simpler to beam back aboard the ship," he pointed out, still standing by the door.

McCoy sat down on the edge of the bed and stripped off his shirt. "Maybe, but there's something nice about sleeping in an unfamiliar place. It's exciting. We spend enough time living on that damn ship. Might as well take advantage of having other options."

Spock nodded, but remained silent.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I've been a dick to you, and I wanna apologize for that. The things you've been through, well, I couldn't have even begun to imagine how they felt."

"I shouldn't have forced my own issues upon you, Doctor." Spock took a step toward the bed.

"You didn't force anything on me. Besides, I had it coming."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the Doctor's sudden candor. Perhaps there was something to be said for intoxication. "You were in so much pain last night. I feared I had destroyed something inside you."

McCoy shook his head. "If anything, I'm seeing more clearly now." Reaching out, he threaded his fingers through Spock's. "Jim was right. I've never given you a fair chance before."

"You are drunk, Leonard," Spock said. It was the reasonable thing to say, but it pained him to think this moment could be contrived, that it may not last. He had lost so much already, was it too much to ask to keep this one thing for himself?

"Definitely. Doesn't make this any less real, though." His inhibitions were obviously lowered. Though in Spock's experience, mostly through observation, that didn't necessarily mean this was a false confession. It could simply be that the alcohol had forced the truth from Leonard without giving him a chance to second-guess what he was saying. One could only hope.

Swallowing, Spock disentangled his hand from Leonard's grasp. "These feelings I have for you are not logical."

McCoy stood up and closed the distance between them. "Screw logic."

And then the unthinkable happened. Lacing his fingers around the back of Spock's skull, Leonard crushed his lips to his.

The intensity of the kiss caught Spock off guard. There was unimaginable heat flowing between them, as well as pulsing through his veins. He returned the kiss, no longer worried about logic, or anything else for that matter. This was all he needed.

The void inside his chest began to fill. He broke away from Leonard long enough to pull off his own shirt, and then pressed against him once more. As long as they were touching, nothing could be wrong.

Leonard spun him around, pushed him up against the wall. His lips trailed across Spock's shoulder blades. Shivering, Spock reached back to tangle his hand in McCoy's hair as he arched his back.

Spock's eyes fell shut, his defenses lowering, and there were no more secrets between them. Conflict warred in McCoy's mind, woven together with more wanting than seemed possible for a single person to contain.

None of that mattered right now. Details were irrelevant. They were together, and that was enough.