Warning: I typed out a faux Scottish accent for Scotty. If this bothers you, please steer clear of this piece.
Enjoy!
Mutual
"Can ya tell me again why ah'm doin' this?"
Spock's ears quite possibly twitched. He, certainly not for the sake of curiosity, leaned his head out of council room B's open door.
"'Cause I told ya to, now stop askin'."
Spock perceived the good doctor prodding what appeared to be a blindfolded Scotty through the hallway, and from the lift in the Southern vulgar Common, a smirking doctor at that. An eyebrow rose deliberately.
"It's a wee bit strange, is all. Ya jist don' get asked every day if you'll kindly put on a blindfold, please and tanks. An' I cannah see where I'm goin'!"
"That's the point, Scotty – corner!"
"Aah!"
"Easy, there, you're fine."
A scientific mind demanded pursuit of such mobile idiosyncrasy as this. Spock followed, at a more than somewhat stealthy distance.
"Oh for the love of – Doctor, are we goin' ta get dere soon? I'm good and tired of trippin' over ma own two feet."
"Yeah, yeah soon enough, soon eeenough."
Spock halted, following McCoy's example, noting with interest a successful and complicated herding sequence to bring the sightless engineer to a seamless rest.
"Whoo. I feel like a sheep bein' run throo its paces in tha fields…Tell me we're where we ought ta be," the Scotsman's features tightened in a familiar expression of alarmed consternation and the doctor heckled genially.
"Heh, heh, heh, we're here all right… in fact," he turned from entering an access code to the storeroom before him and removed the blindfold with a flourish. Round, brown eyes blinked rapidly as they took in the cubic storage area. Scotty touched a hand to his heart and gripped the doorframe, staring disbelievingly at the beaming McCoy.
"Doctor," Spock angled himself to better view the items effecting such a maudlin reaction, "don' tell me these are fer me?"
"Hahahaaa!" Bones clapped his hands, accentuating his trailing laughter. "Yessiree, these are all for you, Mr. Scott."
"Ah-" a new level of shock evolved on the already surprised features, "all?" Bones leaned a shoulder against the hall wall, assuming a pleased slumped position. He shut his eyes blissfully and made an inviting sweeping gesture, chuckling,
"Aaaaall for you."
"Sweet Jesus, Mary, an' Joseph."
Spock regarded passively as the chief engineering officer stepped nearer the attractive arrangement of spirits, stroking the labels lovingly, acquainting himself with every bottle as if each were his child lost from him since its birth. A predictable reaction, though noteworthy in that the doctor also judged it so. He stepped out of a passing security official's path casually.
"Oooh," Scotty crooned after completing the rounds, "wha' a beautiful sight, a beautiful sight." He turned to the self-satisfied, smirking doctor, his intensely moved expression in place.
"You like it?" McCoy inquired with a hooked grin. Scotty clasped both of the softly curved shoulders and kissed each of the medical officer's cheeks in turn, causing both of Spock's infamously angled eyebrows to disappear behind his bangs.
"I coul' not thank ya enough, doctor!" the Scotsman replied heartily to the cheerily startled McCoy, doe eyes shining in earnest sincerity.
"Good, good," the M.D. respond with equal excitement, "then happy birthday."
A change came over the engineer's face that Spock, had he been fully human, would have labeled humorous befuddlement.
"Ma'…Good God, I clean forgot!" He laughed at himself, running a hand up his forehead through his hair before blinking himself into action. Glass clinked as Scotty scooped up the precious booze and held a bottle of high end scotch towards McCoy. "How about a few drinks, doctor? Wanta celebrate with me?" McCoy nodded ceremoniously and resumed a freestanding position.
"I'd be glad to, Mr. Scott." The pair exchanged amiable smiles and turned to find Spock observing them from a polite distance. The two parties eyed each other – one in awkward uncertainty and the other in unforgiving nonchalance. After a substantial opportunity to start conversation had passed, Spock inclined his head and passed his conclusion.
"Fascinatingly enough, it seems your mutual love of alcohol makes you a remarkably compatible item."
"Why – why, you-" As the good doctor processed his statement for offense, Spock turned and marched sedately to the council room with a parting, "Happy birthday, Mr. Scott." McCoy rounded slowly on his companion, disgust meeting a judicious shrug. Scotty shook the scotch bottle slightly and noted,
"There t'aint nothin' wrong with libation." The doctor's vexation succumbed to the growing grin and the pair resumed the stroll to Scotty's quarters.
"I'll toast to that."