Author's Note: For those of you on the alert list, check the previous chapter, too. This is the second one today, so you might've missed the previous one.
'How long've we been doin' this, 'hura?' McCoy drawled, his accent, as always, amplified by the liquor he'd consumed throughout the evening. They were sitting in a bar, dark except for the flashing, coloured lights, not far from Starfleet headquarters. In fact, it was a popular bar amongst those in the service; it was Nyota's turn to pick the location for their night out, and McCoy had accepted her choice with only a slight grimace as his complaint against it.
'Doing what, Doc?' Nyota asked, one finger circling the rim of her glass absently.
'Gettin' drunk Friday night,' the doctor explained, and she blew out a huff of breath that was nearly a laugh.
'I dunno,' she answered, her own speech slurred slightly. 'Since I broke up with Spock?' McCoy sat forward eagerly then, and drunkenly waved one finger at her.
'See! See! Tha's 'xactly what the pr'blem is,' McCoy yelled exuberantly over the pounding of the music around them. 'Ya could'a said "two months," but 'stead ya said "since 'pock." I know tha's why we star'ed drinkin', 'hura, but i's been two months now, and 'm still listenin' to ya talk 'bout 'im.'
'You don't'ave to,' she said, frowning at him.
'Do so!' retorted the doctor, and Nyota couldn't suppress a snort of laughter at the childish response. 'Y'only come t'me now if ya wanna talk 'bout 'im, so if I wanna talk t'ya, I better wanna hear it.' For the first time, Nyota felt a pang of guilt for a different reason. She had been so focused on the idea that McCoy would just be sick of hearing about Spock that it hadn't occurred to her that the doctor might feel used—they hadn't exactly been close friends before the big break up, and it was true that all they really talked about after it was her ex-boyfriend. Before she could open her mouth to apologise, he was already talking again.
'Truth is, 'hura—Nyota-I like ya. Lot. Jus' wanna spend time with ya.' He reached out and clumsily grabbed the hand that had been playing with her glass, nearly knocking it over. The doctor stared drunkenly at her hand in his, and then laughed. 'Took me two months an' half a bottle'a whiskey ta get th'courage t'do that.'
Nyota stared at him for a long moment, and when she didn't respond, McCoy sighed and gave her had a squeeze before drawing back.
'Sorry. Jus' call it dr'nken stupidi—stupidit—stupidness.' McCoy shook his head, and started to stand. Time seemed to freeze as Nyota remembered the frown he would get when she would talk about Spock, the glint in his eye she hadn't been able to place when she said no to anyone who asked if there was someone else for her already, each time he'd go out with her on Friday night and then help her back to her quarters when the bar closed down at two in the morning.
She stood up so fast and clumsily that it knocked her chair over and shook the small table, and McCoy looked at her in alarm as she grabbed onto his wrist.
After a moment of trying to work out what to say, something that would encompass everything about him that Nyota had only now taken notice of, she cleared her throat. 'You're... a really good guy.'
'Ya don' 'ave ta make me feel better,' he said. 'S'okay, I get it. I-'
'Shut up,' she said, and when McCoy's mouth snapped shut Nyota nodded in satisfaction. 'You aren't getting it. I think you're a really good guy.' His brow furrowed in confusion, and she waited for any sign of understanding, but none came.
'I still don' get it,' he told her, and she huffed in exasperation.
A second later, she used her grip on his arm to yank him towards her, which sent him stumbling into her. Drunk as he was, McCoy was unable to keep his balance and fell into her, pushing her back against the brick wall behind her. He stared at her, his eyes wide with surprise, and she threw both arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.
It was sloppy, and they were both definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol they'd had that night, but there was fire and aggression and want and need as his mouth moved against hers. When she finally allowed him to move back slightly, there was a look of surprise mingled with that same wonder on his face.
'Oh,' McCoy said. 'Ya think 'm a really good guy.'
'Yeah,' Nyota answered, 'I do.'
The fact that she meant it, that she genuinely believed he was a good man, didn't stop her from quietly collecting her clothes and slipping them back on in the morning before he woke up so that she could creep down the hallway back to her quarters.
It didn't stop her, but it did make her feel all the more guilty.
After three shots of tequila and another five glasses of liquor the night before combined with little more than three hours' worth of sleep meant that when her door chime went off at precisely 0800, Nyota was not going to skip to the door and greet whoever her visitor was with a great, big bear hug. Especially since she had a feeling that her visitor was none other than Dr McCoy.
'Computer, identify visitor,' she mumbled, not bothering to lift her head from her pillow.
'Visitor is Commander Spock,' the computer replied in its crisp, automated voice. Nyota sat bolt upright, and then swore colourfully in Swahili when it caused the pounding in her head to increase tenfold. Groaning, she rose slowly and glanced down at herself. Straightening the dress she hadn't bothered to change out of and pulling back her hair quickly, she went to the door.
Nyota stood in front of it, staring at the metal for a solid minute. She contemplated not opening it, having the computer tell Spock that she wasn't there because she really didn't think she could handle this right now, but instead she sighed and hit the button to open it.
'Good morning,' Spock said stiffly. He was standing stiffly, too, with his hands clasped behind his back, and he could've passed inspection, with his uniform and posture perfect as ever.
'No,' she said, her voice unintentionally revealing some of the discomfort of her hangover, 'it really isn't.' Spock's lips twitched slightly in the ghost of a frown, and she sighed again, and stepped aside to allow him to enter. 'Come on in.'
They stood awkwardly in front of the door for a moment, and then Nyota gestured to the couch, and Spock complied, sitting on the very edge of it, just as stiff as he had been. She made her way to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee.
'I'd offer you tea, but you took it with you when you got the rest of your stuff,' she said.
'It is of no consequence,' he answered dismissively.
'So what did you want?' she asked without preamble, one bracing hand against her forehead to try to stifle the pounding.
'I can return at another time if you are unwell,' he offered, hesitation clear in his voice. Nyota knew what that meant—he didn't want to be having this conversation at all, and she felt a pang of sympathy. They'd talked to each other since they broke up, of course, but each time it had been in the presence of another officer, and always about ship's business.
'I'm just hungover, Spock,' she said bluntly. 'I'll be fine.' Seeming to accept this, he inclined his head marginally, and then pressed his fingertips together, gathering his thoughts.
'I came to inquire as to your intentions towards Dr McCoy.'