McCoy stood with arms crossed over his chest, cheeks puffed out, and forehead furrowed. He held up a hand stalling others' comments. "Wait for it."
"For?" Kirk asked.
"The inevitable backtracking until," the doctor tilted his head towards Cara as he emphasized the word, "she finally admits I'm right."
Her voice was unyielding and insistent. "Not going to happen." She stood with hands perched on her hips. "And by the way you're not."
He stepped closer to her. "I am."
"Okay, maybe … maybe you correctly elucidated a tiny point of valid logic supporting your point of view." Raising a hand she brought its index finger and thumb together until a hair's breadth separated the digits. "Miniscule … very small."
"Unlikely," Spock commented in his usual monotone.
Swerving eyes only, the doctor glared at the Vulcan.
"Cantidad muy pequeña," Cara said.
Returning his focus to her, McCoy said in a tone hinting at satisfaction, "And so it begins."
"Understood what I said, did you?"
"Of course not. Not without a universal translator. Nor does my comprehending it matter. Switching to Spanish or Italian is one of your tells, the one that proceeds you eating humble pie."
The corner of her mouth twitched. She launched a rant seamlessly blending at random all three of her childhood languages with accompanying emphatic hand and arm gesticulations while pacing right and back, left and back, on repeat, ending with, "... parte trasera de la mula."
"Mule's posterior," Spock translated.
"Are you calling me a jackass?" McCoy huffed.
"If the shoe fits," Cara retorted. Halting in front of the doctor, at leisure she folded arms over her chest and glowered up at him. They stood toe to toe; bodies, chins, and mouths separated by little more than twelve inches.
He chuckled. "Resorting to cliché, another behavioral sign you're about to admit I'm right and you're wrong. I'm a trained psychiatrist, ergo, I know how to read people."
Her eyes narrowed. "It's an idiom you … you … idiota obstinado."
"Doctor if I may be of assistance …"
"Yes, thank you, Spock, worked that one out on my own."
Kirk found the ceiling inordinately interesting as he suppressed laughter.
"Alright. I may have been a little … overeager," Cara said.
"Okay, more than a little," she added.
"Go on," McCoy encouraged without hiding a wide, almost preening, victorious smile.
"And in my … enthusiasm shall we say, I glossed over a few pertinent details."
An arching left brow telegraphed his incredulity.
"Okay, more than a few," she said. Then paused, foot tapping as if waiting. "Your turn now."
"My turn? Whatever for?"
"Climb down off that high horse of yours and admit you may also have been mistaken."
Nick entered the observation lounge as Cara's response finished. His eyes flicked around the space. In a low voice he asked the ship's commander and first officer, "What's going on?"
Kirk grinned. "You know. The usual when these two are in a room together for more than twenty minutes." He mouthed, 'Verbal foreplay.'
"Captain, what do activities preluding and stimulating successful intercourse have to do with a difference of opinion which escalated into a quarrel?"
"Later Spock, I'll explain later."
"You often promise this and then practice forgetfulness."
"Channeling attraction into a different energy, typically annoyance, instead of admitting to the mutual physical desire and, in this case, acting on it."
"How … illogical."
The photojournalist flashed a knowing look as the pair's vocal sparring continued uninterrupted by other conversation in the room. "Do they even remember what this row is about?"
"Doubtful," Kirk said. "And it's their third spat this week."
Throwing his hands up the doctor emitted a loud scoff, then walked in a circle before again facing Cara. His index finger wagged near her nose. "Of all your schemes, the lame brain ones which invariably land you in hot water, this … this takes the cake."
"The day's young," she said. Her words sounded like a promise.
"Start the briefing?" Nick nudged.
"Or get them a room." Spock eyebrows curved down and in, coming closer together. "Why are you amused? Is this not Earth vernacular as well as practical suggestion when beings are engaged in overt public displays proclaiming their wish to copulate?"
A finger was held up pausing further explanation. Starting under the bridge of his nose, Kirk's left hand scrubbed down to his chin. His expression now in keeping with the dignity of his rank he said, "So it is. And an unusual turn of phrase from you."
"Risa can't get here soon enough." Nick cast a thoughtful glance at Cara. "Though she isn't good at vacations. Never wants to slow down. Won't slow down that is. She's filled all ten days the ship's in port from sunup to sundown and beyond with crew and their friends and family meeting us there."
"Bones has declared his intention of remaining on board to, and I quote, 'tend the inevitable injuries from damned foolish escapades.' Burying himself in invented work is his usual modus operandi when confronted with shore leave. Security nearly had to evict him when Enterprise went in for refit. I'm considering making time off an order. Which will compound his grumpiness and dare him to find increasingly creative ways for avoiding it. Now so set in his ways, he misses the point of a society like Risa's."
"Or runs from it."
Kirk turned to face Spock. His chin lifted as eyes scrutinized his second in command. "An astute observation, particularly from a Vulcan."
"I have a dual heritage, biologically and culturally. Which is often purposefully ignored or overlooked."
A bowed head accompanied, "My apologies. I intended neither."
Nick retreated quietly from the room.
Spock stood with hands clasped behind his back. "Unnecessary, Jim. I present as wholly Vulcan. Yet twice, first in rejecting my rightful position at the Vulcan Science Academy, and recently with the destruction of my home world, I've experienced the sorrow, the scarring of turning away from the place I expected to occupy in my society, of leaving or losing family and other beings with whom I shared a close bond, and also felt the fear, the loneliness, the uncertainty which accompany starting over."
Kirk's thumb pointed at the doctor. His voice was soft. "Ever shared that with him?" He added, "Bones is at a crossroads and unsure how to find his way. He'd appreciate and benefit from your insights." A pause. "Once he's pretended otherwise of course."
"It has been and continues to be a private journey, yet I will consider your request as it concerns an integral member of our crew." Spock raised an eyebrow. "I trust my sentiment will remain between us?"
"Your secret fondness for Bones is safe with me."
"And you're not in charge of where I go or what I do," they heard Cara say to McCoy.
He held up and twisted his blue clothed wrist, bouncing light off its stripes which accentuated them. "On this ship, I actually am. Me officer," he waved the wrist at her, "you civilian."
"Shall we give them the room?" Kirk asked.
"Indeed sir."
ooooo
As they continued their verbal rounds of one-upmanship, Leonard and Cara did not notice they were alone in the observation lounge. Phrase by phrase, step by step the physical distance between them shrank. When their bodies nearly touched, his arms slid around her waist, hands clasped behind her lower back. She inched closer and rested her arms on his shoulders, fingers stroked his neck. Neither his action nor her response resulted from prior thought; both were made from impulse. Both sprung from sentiment and were free of artificiality, constraint, or affectation. Both were true and timeless, as if this couple always had been and always would be in one another's arms.
Encircling her waist with one arm, his free hand tilted her chin up, his nose traced down hers with the lightness of a feather. Cara rose on tiptoes, turned her head slightly to the right and caressed his cheek with hers. His hand smoothed her hair, with exaggerated gentleness its thumb followed the line of her cheekbone, then the backs of its curled fingers rubbed down her jaw. As he did, she leaned into his touch and sighed.
Their eyes met and held the other's gaze, the only sound in the room their quickened breaths and heartbeats; neither spoke, words were superfluous. His hand cupped her cheek. Her lips brushed against his and parted …
Both hesitated.
Both pulled back.
Their hands dropped to their sides as ghosts pushed forward and they withdrew behind self-constructed boundaries and assumptions. The silence between them grew heavy.
Leonard spoke, his voice filled with remorse. "Sorry. Sorry. No excuse for my conduct. I don't poach." His tone turned firm. "I'll not step over the line again. That's a promise." Without additional explanation he marched from the room.
Cara sank into one of the plush chairs and stared out of the floor to ceiling window into the darkness of a stellar void the ship orbited. "This is for the best," she said aloud yet with a quiet meant for self-soothing. "It's for the best."
