Episode: Metamorphosis
It isn't often that the three of them find themselves with spare time off together. Command runs on a totally separate track from Sciences, though Spock does spend a good portion of alpha shift on the Bridge due to his dual status as First Officer; and nobody knows better than McCoy how Medical runs its own hours at all hours, and those never coincide with anybody's schedule unless there's a rare run of health aboard ship.
So for all three of them to have down time at the same time is a rare occurrence indeed, and McCoy is actually looking forward to having a twelve-hour shuttlecraft ride just to catch up with Jim on the events of the last few busy weeks. And maybe just have a good gab-fest while they're discussing ship's business, since that hasn't happened much lately. He hasn't so much as had time to eat breakfast with the captain in over a week, and in fact only even saw the man the morning Kirk showed up in Sickbay right before a conference call with the Admiralty, demanding a headache pill with all the irritability that indicated he'd discovered McCoy locked out his meal card from complex carbohydrates the night before.
So, the fact that Spock is coming along at the Federation's clear and unarguable "request" on this little venture to pick up Commissioner Hedford, is just butter on the biscuit. He and Spock haven't had a good snipe-fest in a couple of weeks at least, and Jim has been busy with an enormous amount of paperwork from their last few missions, as well as trying to fight the powers-that-be to get his people at least a brief shore leave when they stop for refueling on Gamma Hydra XII's supply station. McCoy well knows both his superiors are exhausted after a grueling month, neither of them having taken their scheduled day off per week for various reasons, and he hopes to coax both of them into relaxing just a bit before they reach their destination and the work of ferrying a high-maintenance diplomat on medical emergency throws them back into the thick of things.
Even Spock's annoying insistence as they pack, that they spend the majority of their unexpected time together doing crew evaluations since they will be more efficient with Command, Science, and Medical all in collaboration from the beginning, can't dampen his eagerness for the trip, and he stows his gear aboard with all the enthusiasm of an Academy cadet going for his first deep-space flight.
Jim only glares half-heartedly at his chatter, as he and Spock begin the pre-flight checklists, and McCoy just pretends not to hear the captain's mumbling under his breath about too-chipper backseat drivers. Scotty bids them a cheerful farewell over the comm channel, before the Enterprise shoots away into hyperspace with a tiny ripple of backlash as their warp bubble forms, intent upon finishing the ship's charting of the Beta Canaris system's localized ion storm, before returning to rendezvous with the Galileo II in two days' time.
Sixty minutes or so later, they are sailing through space with the unexpected but welcome aid of a gentle solar wind. Kirk has finished up navigation computations, had Spock double-check the calculations, and fed them into the shuttle's auto-pilot. Spock is busy double-checking systems and tweaking them here and there, which for some reason amuses McCoy to no end; because how often does the walking database get the chance to tinker with his precious machines, and it's always hilarious to see him not-quite-frowning at some display which does not meet his exacting standards.
McCoy stretches, gets up to make a few cups of coffee at the portable replication unit in the back. Figuring out the contraption (obviously Spock isn't the only one who likes to tinker, and he's going to smack Scotty when he sees him next for changing the buttons all around on him) takes him a good twenty minutes or so, and when he returns with his hard-earned plunder it is to see Spock leaning back in his chair, chin resting on one thin hand, just silently watching his co-pilot.
This is nothing new, and McCoy rolls his eyes. It's ridiculous how everyone thinks Spock never shows emotion; 'cause if that's not affection and amusement in the hobgoblin's expression then McCoy'll drink his coffee decaf for the rest of the trip. Spock's almost relaxed-looking, which is scarily weird, and the corners of his eyes are all but smiling, which is even weirder.
He plunks a steaming coffee cup down in front of Spock, and then settles easily into the seat directly behind the Vulcan, grinning widely over the rim of the cup.
Because Jim is snoring fit to wake the dead, head tipped forward on his chest and hands neatly folded in his lap, slouched into the most uncomfortable of positions behind the navigation console and apparently not caring one bit.
Spock unfolds his arms to re-check the instruments once more, and then swivels in one fluid motion to face the doctor, picking up his coffee cup on the way.
"If you suggest wakin' him up to do your cotton-pickin' crew evals, I will slip you a mocha latte next time," McCoy hisses ferociously, stabbing a finger in the Vulcan's direction.
A dark eyebrow rises slowly over the rim of the coffee cup, as Spock looks dubiously down into the drink's steaming depths.
McCoy settles back with a smirk, raising his own cup in a mocking toast to his companion's wariness of human nature.
Yes indeedy, it's going to be a very interesting, dare he say fascinating, twelve hours.