AN: A short chapter but it was sitting on my computer and felt it needed to be posted after such a long wait instead of having another 500 words tacked on to it.

"If you wanted to see him, you should have called."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "I know -"

"You could have called anytime. Maybe in the same week you broke off the date."

"I get it. I was an asshole and Spock deserved better than that. But I want to try make it up to him; at least explain myself."

Jim glared before turning back to his whiteboard, various equations scribbled on it in different colored markers. Some were written in Spock's neat, even handwriting. Others were written in Jim's quick scrawl. None of them looked connected. It looked as though they were fighting to see how many equations they could each write. It captured Jim's attention, though, and McCoy had no idea what it was all for. Physics was nothing new to him but Jim and Spock's minds together, he never dared to touch.

"You'll have to find somewhere else to talk to him," Jim said over his shoulder.

"So is he not here at all?" he asked, growing impatient.

"He was in for a little bit this morning," Jim said. "He was sick, though. So I'm not sure how he'll be if you go to his apartment."

McCoy crossed his arms. "Is it even worth going there?"

Jim shrugged. "It's your call. If you think avoiding him any longer is a good choice, by all means…"

McCoy made his way to the door. "I'll go see him."

Jim didn't say anything as he left.

Spock answered the door in sweatpants. McCoy fought a smile. He had always heard how neat Spock was. How he would never be seen out of his dress pants and a sweater (which was endearing, considering they were baggy on him) and didn't believe in casual dress.

"Hi," McCoy said.

"Hello," Spock said, tilting his head. "I do not intend to sound rude but why are you here?"

"Jim said you weren't feeling well and I decided to drop by."

"At 12 in the afternoon?"

"I'm not working today. I thought now was a good time to talk... And explain myself."

Spock nodded. He opened the door farther and stepped aside, letting McCoy in.

The apartment was cute. Modest and comfortable, McCoy thought, walking into the sitting room and past the adjoined kitchen.

"Listen, I'm sorry about last Saturday. I was -"

"On call. You had an emergency. I understand."

McCoy followed him to the couch. Spock furrowed his eyebrows as he sat, placing his hand on his stomach. He curled his legs up and hunched forward.

"What's bothering you?" McCoy asked, his concern triggering his medical instincts.

Spock took a deep breath. "It is merely cramps. I will be well in a day."

He buried his hands in the sleeves of his sweatshirt and curled his arms around his torso.

"Are you sure?" McCoy resisted the urge to put his hand to Spock's forehead, to fully examine him in a tender way. Like a mother caring for their child (or a boyfriend caring for their boyfriend). "Any other symptoms?"

"No. Doctor, I assure you it is nothing."

"'Doctor?'. Come on Spock, you don't have to be so formal. You can call me Leonard."

"No one addresses you by your first name - not even Jim. I should not have the privilege."

"First off, Jim just hates my name. He gave a nickname the first day we met. And why wouldn't you be privileged? I'm going to take you out this weekend, aren't I?"

Spock stared. His stomach curled. "Are you?"

McCoy smirked. "Only if you're feeling up to it. I'm not on call and need to make last week up to you. Same plans, same time?"

Spock nodded. "That would be… "

"Acceptable?"

"Nice. Very nice."