Keepers

Summary: Because Jim and Spock probably wouldn't be together without them.

Len wasn't shocked to see Uhura in his office as soon as Spock returned with Jim. He was, however, pleasantly surprised at the two bottles of Saurian whiskey she brought with her.

"Us keepers have to stick together," she smiled, though it was only half a joke.

"Keepers," he grumbled sardonically, catching the bottle she lobbed at him and rummaging in his desk drawer for a bottle opener. "I never signed up to be their nanny, you know."

"And yet," she pointed out, sitting on the edge of his desk. So she could look down at him, Len suspected. "Here we are."

"You're a terrifying woman, Lieutenant," he mumbled, tilting his head back for a swig. It burned down his throat with a satisfying pain. He needed it to hurt right now.

"I'm quite normal, I assure you." But she looked amused. "Just doing what any friend would do."

"Friend, huh." Len stared into the depths of his bottle, swirling its contents absently. "That's you and Spock, right?"

"Friends," Uhura said firmly, but she looked slightly melancholy as she also inspected the inside of her drink. "Maybe we could have been more, but there was always someone else he was looking for."

"You think that's Jim?" He wasn't sure himself. He only knew that they were idiots about each other, but whether that meant they wanted each other, he had no idea.

Uhura was quiet for a few moments, then took a fierce gulp and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. "I hope it is," she said finally. "They're good for each other."

"Well, they're stupidly obsessed with saving each other, for one," Len muttered grouchily.

"But that's why you're here, right? To patch them up when they come back."

Len grunted. "And you?"

"To bash their heads together when they can't see sense." She quirked a smile and offered her bottle. "To keepers?"

"To the damn keepers," Len said, and clinked their bottles. The next swig didn't burn quite as much, but he found that he no longer minded.

"Hey, Uhura," he said, after swallowing.

"Nyota," she supplied, smiling enigmatically over her drink.

"Gesundheit."

She swatted his arm reproachfully. "It's my name, you dolt. Be grateful, not everyone has the privilege."

Oh. Oh. Len stared very hard at the bottle he cradled in his hands, a sense of prickling nervousness poking at his spleen. Unless that was the whiskey. He was...out of practice with this sort of thing, to say the least. His last relationship hadn't ended well by any means, and, well, keeping up with Jim had kept him too busy to even consider the idea.
But Uhura...Nyota was beautiful, smart, had a tongue on her as sharp as her wit...he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't at least somewhat intrigued.

But, damn it, he was getting too old for this and Nyota didn't deserve to be stuck with a grumpy, alcoholic medic like him. He didn't deserve her. Spock definitely didn't deserve her, the git.

He gulped down another surly mouthful. "Would you." He paused, struggling with his words. He had never been good at words, not like Jim or even Spock, the robotic wonder. "Would you like...to have dinner. Sometime. With me."

Nyota was looking at him, with that feline smile that made him feel hunted and intrigued at the same time, and he swallowed around the bubbles fizzing back up his throat nervously. "Dinner?"

"We could complain about the two idiots the whole time. It'll be great."

"I was hoping we could talk about someone else, for a change." She swung her legs absently off the side of the desk, and Len found his gaze wandering down to-

No, damn it. He snapped his eyes back to her face.

"You know, I've been over Spock for a while now, Doctor McCoy. Or is it Bones?"

"Nah, that's Jim's thing," he said automatically, then winced at her suddenly disappointed expression.

"Oh."

"Call me Len." It was a stupid thing to say, an embarrassing thing to say, but then she smiled and raised her bottle in a salute and he knew then that he was in way over his head.

But, what the hell. He deserved it.