The Enterprise has shore leave on Earth and it's just in time for the spring holiday. Most of the campus has cleared out. Leonard only has some inventory to do, but his Head Nurse at Starfleet Medical had proclaimed that she would not spend all of Spring Break counting gauze. She had turned truly militant and between her and some well placed grousing on Leonard's behalf inventory had been finished at the record speed two days. This of course meant that Leonard had five days of half shifts that he timed in order to match Jim's meetings and course planning, which in turn means, they have as much time as they want to spend with their friends.
Spock and Nyota won't be in San Francisco until the end of the week. Nyota went to go see some of her sisters in Africa. Chekov had gone off to see his family until Thursday, and Sulu was doing an exploratory adventure in Korea to look at some extraterrestrial flora that the Korean scientists had been breeding with local flora. Scotty was in town though.
His family in Scotland had planned an off-planet vacation before they knew that the Enterprise would be docking this week. Scotty says they had offered to cancel, but they almost never got off planet, and they were going to Risa. How could he make them give that up?
So, Scotty is hanging out with them at the Kirk-McCoy apartment. He's sitting in Jim's chair, a glass of scotch in his hand and regaling them with stories of missions gone haywire—because apparently it isn't the Kirkian syndrome; it's the Enterprise syndrome—and giving glimpses of life without a slightly crazy, daredevil captain, as well as including them on the lives of their friends, friends they don't see that often. Jim sits beside Leonard, soaking in all the information, laughing at the antics of a mostly crazy Scottish engineer.
Leonard is surprised to see that a look of longing never crosses his features, just enthrallment, or shock at a story about Spock letting the crew get away with something they so shouldn't be getting away with. He always thought that Jim would kinda resent not being able to go into space anymore, but he doesn't even look like he misses it. He still gets to go to other planets for Admiral's conferences and dignitary meetings, but it's not the same thing; it's not the same adventure.
He snaps back to himself, when Scotty nearly howls, "Jim! Jim, m'laddy! Ye have to make me one o' your sandwiches. I willnae leave this apartment until I have one!"
Leonard snorts. "All these years, you still haven't figured out how to replicate Jim's sandwich."
He'll never tell Scotty that Jim doesn't do anything special to the sandwiches. It's all in his head.
"I've bloody well tried!" Scotty exclaims, leaning forward in his seat with a look of earnest. "I've done ev'rything I can damn well think of, but I cannae…the good Admiral does something…I just cannae make 'em like he does!"
Jim smiles and pulls himself out of his seat, heading towards their little kitchenette. He moves a little slower than he normally would, having been reacquainted with the fact that Scotty has a drop everything as you go personality. He nearly trips over the engineer's boots, but manages to save himself just in time.
"Bollocks!" Scotty proclaims, looking over the side of his chair. "I always forget that you cannae see where my shit is."
Jim laughs again. "Don't worry about it, Scotty. I don't mind that you forget."
Leonard knows it's the truth. He would rather people forget that he can't see, because it's seems like those who always remember, who are always conscious of it, coddle him. Leonard, however, would appreciate it if Scotty just kept his belongings by the door.
Scotty meets his gaze briefly, looking chagrinned, but Leonard doesn't call attention to his fleeting annoyance. Instead, he hauls himself up off of the couch, following his lover into the kitchen. Jim's sandwich really isn't that difficult to make, but they had actually gone shopping over the weekend, so there is an assortment of things in the cooling unit.
Jim has the bread out, the pan already on the stove. He's going through the spices in the cabinet, Leonard having helped the admiral put Braille labels on all of them so that he could 'see' what he was cooking with without sniffing it. Leonard makes a grab for the pickles, ham, and cream cheese from the cooler, setting them on the counter for Jim before he takes a seat at the table, where Scotty has sneakily settled himself.
"Make sure he doesn't watch me, Bones," Jim tells him.
Scotty quickly shifts seat so that he can face the opposite direction of Jim. He doesn't try to be sneaky, doesn't try to see what Jim uses on his sandwich so that he can replicate it. It's probably like a game to him, trying to figure it out himself, without peaking to see what Jim does.
Leonard catches Jim's smirk as he lines up the ingredients. He spreads butter onto six slices of bread, stacks them carefully on a plate in the corner. He takes a few pickles out of the jar, patting them down to get the juice off, does the same thing with the ham. He stops when he gets to the cream cheese, hand on the tub, finger gently tapping against the lid in contemplation. "Bones, will you do this part? I don't wanna rip the bread."
"Sure, Jim." He walks over and carefully spreads the cream cheese onto three slices of bread, the opposite side of where Jim has buttered them. He sets them down, saying, "Kay, Jim, you're good to go."
Jim surprised him, turns his sightless gaze towards Leonard and pushes his lips out. Usually, he doesn't enact public displays of affection in front of many people from Starfleet, considered it to be inappropriate in front of colleagues, even if they are close friends. But Jim has decided it's okay as of right now, so he leans forwards and give Jim a brief peck on the lips.
Jim smiles. "Thanks, Bones."
Shaking his head and walking back to the table, he returns, "No problem."
Scotty fills up the silence of Jim's cooking and Leonard watching carefully. He burbles in a near one-sided conversation only broken by Leonard's grunts and Jim's 'Really's.
When Jim is done, he cuts the sandwiches diagonally. Scotty, giddy as hell, bounces over to the plates and helps Jim take them to the table, his ass barely making contact with his seat before he's taking a large bite out of the pickle, ham, and cream cheese sandwich. He makes a delighted noise, chewing slowly, savoring this moment.
"Christ in a cute little hand basket," he moans sinfully, as if he's getting a blowjob instead of eating a strange concoction of a sandwich that Jim came up with then he was a miscreant in Iowa. "Lad, you should start your own café and serve this as the main dish. I swear ye'd never have trouble with business."
"I'll keep that in mind if being an admiral ever loses its shine."
"Even if it never does…" he swallows another bite down, and points at Jim, even though he can't see it. "If'n I ever care enough to get my own ship, I will find a way to demote you and make you my own personal sandwich chef."
Jim laughs, loud and boisterous, shaking his head. "Whatever you want, Scotty. Just make sure Bones can go too."
Scotty tells him that won't be a problem in the slightest, but Leonard just smiles to himself, hooking his foot behind Jim's ankle under the table.