McCoy watched Spock's face light up, although there were no smiles, there was an extra intake of breath. His eyes scooting in the sight of the seat, the bookcase, his room. But the light faded.
"Whats wrong?" McCoy asked.
"It appears cluttered" Spock said a tiny frown forming on his easily mistakable face.
"Cluttered?" McCoy asked his eyebrows raising as he gazed around. It was not what McCoy would describe as cluttered. There were several decorative (he was assuming the decorative part) weapons on the wall. Two tapestries hanging, a wooden carving of a sehlat. Most of the 'clutter' came from the bookshelves which were stacked, a few old looking vulcan books, and some padds. The small area with a sofa and coffee table was the most cluttered with one book placed diagonally on the coffee table, in the centre was one plant. If anything McCoy would describe the room as being sparse and immaculately clean. All of it was ordered.
"I can't see anyway reason for me needing this many books." Spock said.
"Are you… are you going to call yourself illogical? Because I am fine with that, but can I get a camera first?"
"No. And no. I was just expecting something more empty. I like it." Spock said and proceeded towards the bookshelf.
"Well, thats great. Anyway, I've got to get back to sickbay. Stay here and do whatever, and don't wander off. Spock, Spock-"
"Yes I heard you Doctor McCoy." Spock said turning and using his very proper tone.
"I know you heard me" McCoy said "but are you agreeing?"
"I will not wander off, although I may explore some levels of the ship later on-"
"Thats wandering off."
"If I do I will only go to the decks I am allowed, and I will not hide from security, I will not find vents and climb in them, I will not go to the docking deck and take a spaceship out for a test drive."
"Don't do that."
"I just said I wouldn't do that."
"Why would you say that?"
"Because I'm not going to do that."
"Jesus christ, I am going to be grey before your thirty." McCoy combing his hair back with his fingers, as he slowly began to back up towards the door "please be good."

* * *

McCoy met up with Spock at lunch, and they dined in the cafeteria. Unlike previous days the hall was busy with shouts and many of the crew. All were eating and in between the beats of feet hitting the floor Spock could hear the slurp of food into mouths, and splash of drinks and gurgle of bellies.
"Come on Spock" McCoy called his head nodding toward the empty seat next to him. He was sitting with the rest of the bridge crew. Spock realised he had been standing still emerged in the audio. He walked forth and took the seat with his tray of food.
"Hello Commander" Chekov greeted.
"Hello" Spock said keeping his voice steady, but unsure if that really was the correct reply. He took to his food.
"How old are you now?" Uhura asked
"Eight" Spock said "how old are you?"
"Spock" Uhura tsked "don't you know it's rude to ask some there age."
"Really?" Kirk asked "really?"
"I apologise, I.." Spock cutting off stabbing at his food. He looked up to Doctor McCoy.
"It's fine apology accepted" Uhura said.
"Oh that reminds me. We've got a new mission through" Kirk said and he squinted "it's another meet and greet."
"As long as no one else gets turned into a child" McCoy huffed.
Sulu smiled leaning across the table with the grin of a trickster "oh, Doctor, I'd love to see what you were like as a child. Were you anything as cute as Spock is?"
"No. That's it, I am medically ordering none of you are allowed to turn into a child."
"Well thats it" Kirk sighed dropping his knife and fork noisily on to a mostly untouched salad "there goes my plans for the week."

* * *
Spock's bed was huge, and he was finding it a little hard to believe that he slept in it as an adult, that said, he was enjoying being eating by his blanket, it was much warmer compared to the rest of the ship and he quickly found sleep. He awoke some hours later, in the middle of the night, his lights on 15%, and sweat accumulating on the top of his forehead. It was a memory, or something that had just happened. It was an old memory of something that had just happened. Spock pushed the covers off himself and pulled off his jumper to see bruises forming on his back and along his side. Where he had been hit, by his peers. He gasped and held tightly to the blanket as he felt words being cut into his back.
'Half-Breed'
Carved into his mind into his skin he took a gulp of breath as he remade his composure. He reminded himself as the new cuts already began to scab over, that had not happened today.
'Not real' Spock whispered to himself, with that comfort he began to regain his composure. His regained composure slipped from him when he felt it trailing along his wrist. Similar to a bag being unzipped, or a spider scattering across him. Spock brought his wrist up to his face where green trails of his own blood bled out on to the bed covers. This had not been done by his peers. He had done this to himself. He was overcome with the strangest sense, that he once had, back when he had originally done this to himself. Yet while on the Enterprise, he realised this, this was not what he wanted, and he felt more purely the pain he had never felt when he did this originally.

Then they healed. The cuts scabbed over and the scabs turned to scars. Spock laid back down on the bed his head on two pillows either side of him. His chewed finger nails tracking the few remaining scabs on his wrist. Something settled over his heart. Something that gave him reassurance. He couldn't tell yet but a meaning had settled in his heart. He felt like he was being crushed with a hug. His fingers still tracking the small scabs. This was
this was

this

was

The comfort of his bed absorbed him and he tumbled back into the nothingness dream.