The first blast of fresh air was enough to restore at least a smidgeon of clear thinking. Trouble was, Leonard wasn't keen on heeding the voice of common sense, so when caution reasserted itself with pesky doubts about who this man was, where they were headed or what the hell he was in for, Len processed the questions and dismissed them as problems easily solved.

"We should take this back to my place." Wordless assent in the form of a brisk nod was his only answer and Len felt his skin prickling once more. There was something vaguely off here; not in a threatening way or he'd be back at Jim's side in a split-second, but just… off.

He risked a glance at his companion, startled when he found John had fixed him with an equally considering look, paying no mind to the crowd but simply expecting that it would flow around him.

"Is something troubling you, Leonard?" Only just loud enough to reach his ears, and damned if he didn't like the way that mouth shaped his name.

"'M I going to have to worry about your Designated?" Leonard's own wrist began to burn sympathetically, he rubbed it thoughtlessly against his jeans to dull the sting. It was guilt that had set him off, just his own misplaced guilt, and what he had to be ashamed of Leonard couldn't even begin to guess. Khan Noonien Singh hadn't made an appearance in all the months since the runes had first resolved themselves, and Leonard still wasn't sure whether he was relieved, concerned or disappointed. He had settled for an unlikely combination of all three.

John laughed aloud, a wild joy beneath it that had Len's lips stretching up into a smile.

"No. I think not." He swept his long sleeve back to show his bare wrist. Len hoped his relief wasn't too obvious, and especially not his pity. For all his convictions, Leonard couldn't help but feel for those poor bastards that fell outside the pale. Starfleet couldn't be seen to discriminate against them, but it was an open secret that Nulls often found themselves passed over for promotion when competing against their Designated peers.

"Solves the problem, doesn't it?" Leonard yanked at his own sleeve; without exposure to his own Designated, no one else could decipher it. Leonard had checked to be certain. Repeatedly.

He'd hardly unbuttoned his cuff before one of John's hands clamped about his wrist, the other catching at his shoulder to draw him into the sort of embrace Leonard was sure would land him in the second circle of hell.

He had never considered how damn good it could be, not having to lean down to catch his partner's lips. John's fingers twined roughly in his shirt, pulling him off balance and into the other man's solid weight. Much better, now he could focus a little less on standing straight and a little more on that wickedly talented mouth and what it could do for him. He hummed contentedly, lips curving into a lazy smile the better to permit a clever tongue entrance. There was an almost soothing quality to the kiss, rather like the first breath after being submerged too long.

Leonard pulled away first, a little dazed, and more than a little turned on. That last drink probably had something to do with the pleasant lethargy spreading through his limbs and the nearly forgotten heat that was pooling in his gut. It didn't help any that John's tongue darted out to taste his lips as though savoring that last bit of tingling contact between them.

"How the hell d'you expect a man to make it home when you're pulling dirty tricks like that? C'mon, we're going to miss the last transport, and that would be a crying shame."

It sent a thrill up his spine, feeling John's hand settle possessively at the small of his back. He was crossing a lot of his self-imposed boundaries tonight; Len knew part of it was the simple pleasure of rebellion, willfully denying the mark that had never ceased to plague him in one way or another. Another part of it was lust, plain and simple. Leonard had done without often enough, watching while Jim dallied with whomever he pleased or Scotty when he could pull himself away from tinkering long enough. Either way, he intended to get John Harrison out of his system with no messy complications, just sex.

That thought in mind, he lengthened his strides, confident that John would match him step for step. This might not qualify as his wisest decision, but he could see no reason for regret come morning either, and if anyone was entitled to a little indiscretion, surely it was he.

!

!

Beneath his racing thoughts of precisely what he intended for Leonard McCoy tonight and the giddy rush of adrenaline that came of playing his role to perfection, John was surprised to find an undercurrent of relief.

When he had first spotted McCoy leaning against the overhang with a searching gaze fixed on the crowd below, he had taken a moment simply to observe him. There was nothing outwardly spectacular about Leonard McCoy, not from a distance at least. He was tall and fit, his clothes flattered his form to perfection, though it didn't seem he had deliberately arranged it that way. He was effortlessly handsome, and in a purely aesthetic sense, John had admired that.

Latent instinct had only allowed him a few moments to take stock of McCoy before he had finally succumbed to the need to draw nearer, ruthlessly tamping down on an unexpected and powerful urge to touch the man, reassure himself that they were both flesh and blood, not conjured in a dream.

Leonard hadn't so much as reacted to his approach, too fixated on whomever he was watching; his eyes flicked restlessly across the crowd, lingering only a few seconds when he encountered a scene of interest, completely absorbed in his own thoughts.

John wasn't sure he had managed to keep the tinge of jealousy from his tone when he had inquired whether McCoy was waiting for anyone.

He still wondered how much of Leonard's reaction had been surprise and how much was his subconscious reacting to the proximity of his Designated. Every study John had painstakingly unearthed showed an increase of activity in the amygdala and hypothalamus when pairs were introduced to their Designated in a controlled environment. Current thought held that an increase of key hormones was responsible for triggering the response that permitted outsiders to see the proof of a Designated pair.

John had resolved to conduct his own tests in that direction whenever time permitted. It was obvious to him now that a Designated pair, even a pairing between Augment and Human, could only serve to strengthen both parties. The next step would be to ensure that his crew benefited from his new understanding. But at present moment, he was finding it increasingly difficult to think in terms of strategy, not when Leonard had synced his footsteps to John's own, not when he had unconsciously drawn nearer even now that they were alone and well on their way to the transport.

Dark as it was, John could look his fill and none the wiser.

There was so very much to see, from tapered hips and purposeful stride to the way McCoy fiddled with that silver ring about his little finger, the only visible sign of his uncertainty. He dared not speak for fear it would bring Leonard back to his senses; he had very nearly lost him outside the club. If Leonard had lifted his sleeve then and seen the evidence for his own eyes, their tryst might have ended before it even properly began.

John Harrison had developed something of a reputation as a conscientious man, at least as far as any agent of Section 31 could afford to be, but it was Khan that was Leonard's Designated, and it was not his nature to compromise his own work out of some misguided notion of honor. He had lost so much else, this much he would take for himself, selfish though it was.

!

!

They chose the seat farthest back in the transport. John couldn't suppress a glimmer of pleasure when Leonard made straight for a corner seat, one that would not be readily visible to anyone boarding. Silently he mourned that it was Leonard's home they returned to rather than his own. His preference would have been to draw McCoy into his own quarters, to see him there, his scent mingling with John's own as they twined in the sheets- a pleasant memory for the days ahead.

John's rooms were sterile, nothing to personalize them; no holos graced the shelves that lined the walls, neither padds or trinkets. His bed was pristine and the sheets tucked in with military precision, all signs of habitation neatly hidden away. It wouldn't be comfortable for a man like McCoy, a man that still wore his grandmother's ring and carried his father's pocket-watch tucked discretely in his pocket, one prone to trotting out the quaint phrases of his youth at a moment's notice.

No. The doctor would be more at ease in his own home, and tonight was dedicated to a study of all things relating to Leonard McCoy. There would be plenty of time later to take McCoy to his home- not the bleak quarters assigned to him by Section 31, but his own ship. One of his preliminary designs that he would yet convince Marcus to build for him and his crew.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

"Hm?" It didn't escape his notice, the way Leonard shivered at the sound of his voice or how they were nestled hip to hip despite the length of the seat.

Leonard chuckled self-deprecatingly, "Old turn of phrase. Something on your mind?"

John was well aware of the phrase itself, only he would much rather have kept Leonard from following the path of his thoughts.

"How far is it to your home?" John rumbled, throat tight with anticipation.

"Twenty minutes." Mischief lightened hazel eyes, showing a tinge of sea-green to its best advantage, "But I'll bet I can make it seem faster."

"Oh?"

The feel of a heated palm against his thigh answered that question, calloused fingertips catching softly in his trousers' material. John shuddered, hearing his breath hitch in the back of his throat when that hand continued its journey down to his knee, up again to tease at his inner thigh, higher still until John didn't bother to stifle a growl.

"Do not tease me, Leonard." It was all the warning he was willing to give.

McCoy only smirked, fingers playing at the seam of his pants, drifting up to trace the length of the zipper. "I wouldn't dream of it, darlin'." Now it was John's turn to shiver, inordinately pleased at the casual endearment when from anyone else's mouth he would have called it a maudlin affectation.

Leonard's knowing fingers were gone the next minute, leaving a chill of awareness in their wake. John glanced ahead, verifying that they were well out of the operator's line of sight before turning to capture Leonard's chin, tilting his head back until he could take a deep kiss, one that left them both panting for air when John finally released him.

"You will pay for that." He murmured, stroking a palm over his Designated's jeans to be sure he took the meaning.

"It was worth it just to watch you squirm."

John had no choice but to move away, putting a few inches between them lest he extract his price immediately. Leonard glanced up coyly from under thick lashes, his dimples betraying that he had noticed John's surreptitious movement.

Leonard glanced down, only then noticing that his sleeve was still unbuttoned, John tensed as his fingers began to tug at the buttons, uncertain whether he would undo them or-

"I don't know a damn thing about you 'sides your name." He slid a button into its mooring and John relaxed gradually. "So, I'm assuming you're with Starfleet? Can't think of any reason you'd be this close to headquarters otherwise."

In a manner of speaking. "Research division. Is there some reason civilians would avoid this district?"

Leonard snorted humorlessly, "Guess you didn't come from the San Fran branch. A handful of drunken cadets'll do as much damage as a riot anywhere else; they get the boot if they take it too far, but why put yourself near 'em if you don't have to?" A careless shrug suggested only a madman would spend his free time anywhere near Starfleet's finest.

"I guess if you're not from these parts you must be here on 'fleet business?"

"Yes. From London." John volunteered.

"Huh. Guess that explains the accent. You've got a funny way with Standard."

John arched an eloquent brow, fixing McCoy with a frosty eye.

Leonard only rolled his eyes despairingly, his faint blush suggesting embarrassment, "Beg pardon. I meant I don't think I've heard your accent before. I like it." He added offhandedly.

John tried not to study his sense of satisfaction too closely.

When Leonard cleared his throat-picking up his line of questioning again- John found himself torn between annoyance that McCoy should force him to prevaricate these little details, and pleasure that he evinced such an interest in the personal affairs of John Harrison.

The idea of Leonard developing any lasting affection for this mask pricked, though. He would have preferred to lay aside this avenue of inquiry until Leonard could know him for his true self rather than a pale shadow.

"All right, research. Not medical or I'd've heard of you." A studying glance, seeking confirmation. John nodded, allowing an inward smile to light his eyes.

"Damn it, man, give me some idea. I've had better luck pulling teeth from Tellarites, and they're damn touchy."

"Ah, but if I told you, I would have to kill you." They laughed together at a jest so overused it hardly qualified as humor. John laughed all the harder knowing that Marcus would demand exactly that if he thought it would serve his cause.

"All right, my best guess is weapons research. I'll leave it there- it's polar opposite from my field."

"Medicine?"

Leonard's gaze warmed with pride, picking out the shards of warm blue in his hazel eyes, "CMO of the USS Enterprise."

"You are a talented man."

"Damned lucky too." No false modesty or pretense of being any less than he was; John delighted in the man's easy confidence.

Both snapped to attention as the transport glided to a stop, making their way out with all haste. As Leonard glanced up to speak with him again, he caught sight of the stars and fell silent, studying what few were visible through the light pollution. That was something that hadn't been mentioned in his file- for all his aviophobia, Leonard McCoy was an adventurer at heart. Plainly after so long earthbound he was craving his galaxies and starlight again.

"They are beautiful." John offered, pleased when Leonard unconsciously wended closer, nudging against him in companionable intimacy.

"Shame about the light, but I can still pick out a constellation or two if I squint. I don't suppose you've had much cause to leave planet?"

If Khan's feet ever left solid earth again it would be too soon. He had spent centuries floating in the black at peace, only to be rudely awakened by Marcus for his selfish designs. Marcus would pay in blood for his mistake, as would his superiors and those that had volunteered their service to his cause.

"No."

"You're not missing much. When you're not copin' with an alien plague one of the greener ensigns brought aboard then you're just trying to fill the time with something productive. Never a new face, never a story you haven't heard before."

"And yet you chose to ply your trade for Starfleet. You could as easily have been a civilian surgeon."

"Am I that obvious?" Leonard cleared his throat, lowering his voice so it wouldn't carry. "I might've overreacted to a little trouble; it's a habit, one that's served me reasonably well most of the time."

Ah yes, his divorce from his wife of three years- Jocelyn McCoy nee Darnell. It galled John to think that Leonard had not waited for him, but then Leonard would not be a match for Khan if he were a man to accept the vagaries of fate without protest.

"Besides, Earth was starting to feel a little too small. I was gettin' claustrophobic." The wistful undertone in his voice set alarms to ringing, he was thinking again, chasing thoughts John couldn't begin to guess at, perhaps even entertaining second thoughts.

"You are chief medical officer of the flagship, I think that has put you in good stead." John allowed himself to draw nearer, basking in Leonard's proximity.

"Guess so. I can't complain."

Leonard turned down a smaller street, one whose silence was almost cacophonous in and of itself; the flickering light couldn't quite reach the little corner they headed for, a modest single-unit smothered between two ostentatiously large houses.

"This is where I stay when I'm not working. It's been a while since I made it back here, but it can't be too bad off." The offhand statement was only slightly tempered by the desperate confidence of Leonard's tone. Clearly he elected to stay in the staff dormitory at headquarters more often than not; Khan tucked the information away for later consideration.

It was a tense few moments while Leonard struggled to find his keys, the old-fashioned locking mechanism defeating one set after another until finally Leonard stumbled across the correct choice purely by accident.

McCoy stepped over his own threshold with marked hesitancy, taking in the sight as though it were the first time he had set eyes on it. He hadn't been exaggerating the length of his absence if that cautious step was anything to go by. John took a moment to relish the unnatural warmth of the house, allowing a lingering chill to seep from his bones. Nothing would ever purge the cool bite of stasis from his memory he was sure, but any source of heat was always welcome.

"Lights fifty percent. Temp twenty degrees." Leonard murmured, grinning with satisfaction when he received an immediate response. "There's a relief. I thought environmentals might be out after this long." By the time Leonard glanced back at him, gesturing him into the hall almost by rote, John had managed to stifle his genuine mirth lest McCoy take offense. Somehow this was exactly what he had expected of the doctor's quarters- a threadbare rug that Leonard wiped his shoes on almost without thought, synthwood flooring obviously worn but well-tended. Beyond, John could see a small table dotted with holos and knick-knacks, doubtless mementos collected over a long and varied career.

In short, McCoy had taken great care to ensure that he had a home, something that bore the indelible imprint of his personality even while the exterior might have been mistaken for any of a dozen other houses along the row. John spared a second to wonder what he had made of his office aboard the Enterprise; it was likely as neat and orderly as the rest of sickbay, nothing there to betray even a hint of an adventurous homebody with a taste for the eclectic.

A muffled snort brought him back to the present; Leonard had already kicked off his shoes, letting them lie next to another pair at the left of the door. "You can come in; I swear I'm not gonna bite."

"Pity." The sudden shade of nervousness in Leonard's posture, hastily concealed, did not escape John's notice. "Perhaps you are concerned I will bite?"

McCoy seemed to debate with himself for a long minute before finally offering an eloquent shrug that somehow managed to convey embarrassment, resignation and amusement all at once. "'It feels a little odd, bringing someone else home. Only Child Syndrome; I'm not used to sharing, but since I'm working on it anyway, care for a drink? I make a mean julep." Leonard started off, clearly expecting him to follow; John obliged at his own leisurely pace, studying the trinkets scattered about as they wended their way to the back of the house.

"I think I've taken enough this evening, but I hope you won't abstain on my account."

"Perhaps on mine if I want to be in decent shape tomorrow. Damn but those Andorian brews hit hard and fast."

It was only fair to offer an escape one last time, "If you are tired-"

Leonard shook his head, "No." The answer was uncustomarily terse for a man that had volunteered so much of himself at the slightest invitation. John didn't have long to wonder at the shortness of the reply, Leonard hesitated again before a closed door, turning about to face him. "Look, I'm not kidding about this being a first for me. I don't bring men home on a whim-" Here he chuckled softly, "Except when I do, apparently." He was rubbing his wrist against his jeans again, a pained furrow between his brows that suggested increasing discomfort.

He sighed deeply, cocking his head at a defiant angle like a man that had heard every argument before and wasn't about to brook them again. "I didn't ask. You know I have a Designation, is that going to be a problem for you? I'm not looking to send anyone on a guilt trip."

Plainly this had been an issue in the past; John damned the one that had put such a wary light in McCoy's eyes. "I am not foolish enough to throw away what another man isn't bold enough to claim."

Tension eased from Leonard's body bit by bit, even as his generous lips quirked in relief. "You didn't tell me you were a poet, Harrison."

"I think John would be appropriate." Appropriate yes, but not anywhere near enough. Already he was imagining what that husky baritone would sound like as it broke whispering the syllables of his true name.

"Force of habit, John." He toed the door open, glancing in as though concerned the furniture might have run off in his absence. Stepping in, John could smell the clean tang of verbena and a note of something earthy beneath, no overpowering scent of disinfectants such as Section 31 headquarters preferred. Almost he had expected the bitter tang of a ship's sickbay to linger even here in the doctor's room but it was becoming increasingly plain that McCoy liked a stark division between his personal and professional life. Everything in this home was designed to call attention to it.

"Pardon. It's a bit of a mess."

Disarranged, but not cluttered. Chaotic, but far from the 'mess' Leonard thought it. The room should not have agreed with his taste at all, but after months serving in the clinically sterile environment of Marcus' domain, so eerily reminiscent of the lab from his youth, he found the sharp juxtaposition calming.

That sly smirk that had settled on Leonard's mouth was having precisely the opposite effect, though. John allowed himself a pleased murmur when Leonard closed the distance between them to place his lips just there, over the pulse in his neck.

!

!

Leonard couldn't help but note the way John hesitated at the threshold of his room. Was he moving a little too fast for Harrison's taste? He'd be the first to admit finesse hadn't always been his forte, Leonard had always preferred honest passion over technical skill in his partners. The latter could be learned with time and pleasurable practice, the former wasn't something that could be taught. The twitch at the corner of John's eyelid suggested a memory- not a pleasant one if that brief flash of a grimace was anything to go by.

"Pardon. It's a bit of a mess."

John's expression lightened almost instantaneously, a brief negative twitch of his head saying that it wasn't the state of Len's quarters distressing him. Nerves, maybe? For all he knew this could be a first for John Harrison too; rather unlikely, given the academy's reputation as a veritable hotbed of self-exploration in every sense of the term, but possible. He briefly debated asking, but some questions were better communicated through other mediums.

That thought in mind, Leonard glided forward, pressing his lips to fluttering skin. John's heart was racing, and Len thought he could hear him catch a breath at the first touch of skin to skin. Testing the waters, Leonard moved farther down, feathering over a strong collar bone beneath starchy clothes. First item of business: get those off.

"Anxious?"

A puff of laughter ruffled through his hair, slender hands settling firmly over his hips to draw him just that bit nearer until it was hard to tell where one body ended and the other began. "Hardly. I might ask the same of you."

Was he? His fingertips were trembling minutely, an oddity in and of itself, and there was a chill that had settled at the base of his spine but far more pressing was the need to touch. "Anxious to get you out of this, maybe." Leonard tugged at constricting fabric to illustrate his point, sliding his thumb over stiff buttons and fabric.

"Then we are in perfect agreement." Leonard's oversensitive nerves had him practically leaping out of his skin at the puff of warm breath against the shell of his ear, the dark chuckle that followed only sending further shocks of sensation through him.

"Sensitive, Leonard?"

"Ah, yes." Between the darkness and the silence any noise was magnified, any touch. He could practically feel the blood racing through his veins, his breath coming markedly shorter already. It had been too damn long, and this was nothing like the few women he had brought home during his time at the academy- the body that he was mapping out with eager hands was broader, more solid, and he was enjoying the changes entirely too much. Leonard had always expected that would be the case; after his Designation had manifested it had confirmed his every suspicion.

The thought brought him up short, a sliver of apprehension lodging in his chest. That had to be the cause for his initial unease at the club; he was yielding ground in what he had always perceived to be a battle with fate. Now his Designation had resolved, he knew his Designated to be a man and no sooner had he learned so than he found a handsome one during a night out and immediately decided to bring him home.

No. Leonard had always delighted in the Human form, fascinated with its mechanisms and construction; this wasn't a case of surrender so much as it was a long overdue decision that he would no longer limit himself out of some misguided fear of 'losing' to a mark that had always been a part of him. He'd been cutting off his nose to spite his own damn face for too long.

"Second thoughts, Leonard?" John's nimble fingers had paused in their work; when had those buttons come undone anyway? Not that he cared, only he had missed the experience for too much over-thinking on his part- typical.

"None." He reached for John's shirt to return the favor, fingers hovering over the top button with indecision when a new thought struck him. Why not show off some of his lesser known talents?

Catching John's hands before they could move any lower, Leonard caught his eye and offered him a mischievous grin, feeling unaccountably lighthearted now that his decision was made.

"Y'know, my instructors always said I had a smart mouth. They didn't know the half of it." Just to make certain his point was understood, he dipped down to catch the top button of that pressed shirt with his teeth, carefully plying the button with his tongue until he could tease it through its catch. John's breath caught and held. Glancing up, Leonard could see that his pupils had expanded almost to the point of swallowing the iris, a warm blush just beginning on the skin of his throat. If that wasn't an enthusiastic endorsement of his skill, Leonard didn't know what would be.

Feeling considerably more confident than a moment ago, Leonard pushed that obtrusive overcoat off John's shoulders, humming approval when the man allowed it to drop forgotten to the floor.

The next button was a trifle more difficult, tucked in the folds of John's shirt as it was, but not as hard as Len pretended. It was only a rare sort of pleasure to watch someone come undone so easily without even a touch.

As he moved down once again, tongue brushing against exposed skin, John finally remembered himself, gliding his hands over Leonard's shoulders and winding into the loose fabric until Leonard could feel the tension in his grip. By the fourth, John had begun to pant softly, muscles jumping with tension when Leonard laid a soothing hand against his stomach. He couldn't resist sucking softly on the last button, catching John's gaze with his own and refusing to look away while he slipped it from its mooring. He was well aware of the picture he presented, lips flushing and eyes dilating with arousal, the faintest sheen of saliva escaping the corner of his mouth.

When John's eyes narrowed, fingers flying down to attack the doctor's shirt once more, Leonard finally knelt. John froze when he leaned forward to press his lips to the clasp of fine dress pants, allowing his tongue to trace a meandering line up the zipper. He felt lewd, flushing with embarrassment as much as excitement, but with John's otherwise cool blue eyes fixed on him with such heat, Leonard wasn't about to resist his impulses. Not since Jocelyn had he found a partner willing to indulge his shameless moods, but John was actively encouraging him with all those breathless sighs and twitching muscles. He had nothing to fear here, not gossip or censure; this was only one night and then John would be back to London and Leonard to his endless reports and late nights with Jim.

It was more temptation than any mortal man could be expected to resist.

"D'you want to see my best trick?"

John sighed unsteadily, regaining his composure long enough to offer an invitingly appreciative smile, "Oh, yes."