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Leonard stared hard at the ceiling in his quarters. Though he'd gone to bed in the middle of beta shift, a specific request made by the captain himself, he hadn't gotten one minute of sleep and it was nearly time for him to get up for the next day's alpha shift. There was no way he could calm himself down enough to get any rest, not when he was so bothered by the afternoon's events and knew what was awaiting him.
After the breakdown in his office, Leonard had managed to gather up the tiny shred of dignity he had left and pull himself from Spock's embrace. The green-blooded computer, not surprisingly, acted as if the entire incident had never happened and ordered Leonard to report to his quarters at 21:00 the next night so they could begin their mental training. Leonard had no choice but to comply unless he wanted to be thrown in the brig for directly denying orders.
He had then walked back to his quarters in an exhausted daze, stripped out of his uniform, and climbed into bed. The mesmerizing Vulcan lyric danced through his head over and over again. He had no idea what the words meant, but he couldn't help but feel comforted by them. For a few seconds, Spock had cared. He had put aside his damn Vulcan strictness, gotten on the floor, and held Leonard and whispered comforting Vulcan things into his ear and god damn it he liked it a lot.
He thought about the situation again and again, viewing it from every angle possible. As a doctor, he could see exactly what had happened. He'd had a panic attack. He couldn't breathe, his chest hurt, he began to hyperventilate, his heart was racing…it was probably better that Spock calmed him down than he used medication. It's always better to try and control it yourself, and he did. Now if he could only figure out why he'd started having panic attacks again, he would be golden.
As an individual, he could finally admit that he had been in denial. There was a problem that needed to be addressed. Though he was having some trouble believing that Spock wanted to take him on as a ward, he knew now that he needed someone's help. Seeing as his personality and profession never allowed for him to put himself first, it was a good thing his superior officer was the one offering to help.
He wasn't sure what sort of mental therapy Spock had been blabbing about, but he figured the elf was going to plop him down on a little rug and teach him to meditate. Seemed like a waste of time, but if it made all the anger and sadness go away it must not be all bad. There were plenty of reason that Leonard did not want to be sitting in Spock's quarters alone with him late at night, most of which happened to be the same reasons he desperately wanted to be sitting in Spock's quarters alone with him at night. He constantly had to remind himself that some fucking school-girl crush was never going to be a reality and he had to cut the shit before nine o'clock.
The intercom whistled and a familiar voice chimed from across the room. "Bones?" Leonard sighed and rolled out of bed, trudging across the floor in his underwear, swearing silently.
"McCoy here." His voice was rough and cracked.
"Were you asleep?"
Leonard rolled his eyes. "What is it Jim?"
"Bones, I checked in with sickbay just a few moments ago…it's empty and Chapel says they've got everything under control. I want you to go back to bed. Take the day off."
Suddenly, he was entirely alert. "The day off? No. No way."
"Bones, you're drained. You need to take some time for yourself. Please just…do this for me?" The captain's voice had lowered to a whisper. He was probably calling from the bridge and here they were making a scene.
"Fine." He slammed a fist onto the comm, disconnecting himself from the captain. "God damn it, Jim," he mumbled as he slid back into bed.
Now he had to deal with the embarrassment of having a babysitter - first Spock, then Christine, and now Jim. The entire ship was going to think Leonard had gone off the deep end. Just some crazy old man who's gone weak with age, they'd say. He was worthless. No good at being a doctor if he couldn't take care of patients. What else was he good for? Nothing. After a few moments of staring at the ceiling he knew there was no way he was going to sleep. A shaking hand reached out to the bedside table and snatched a bottle of red pills. He scooped out a small handful and swallowed them down. That should knock him out. He rolled over, burying his face in a pillow, and silently cried and cursed the ergonomic pillows for being specially designed to let air reach his face.
A few hours later, Leonard woke up in his dark room. He rolled onto his side groggily and croaked out for the computer to tell him the time. 20:30. He groaned loudly and slid from his covers. His undergarments dropped to the floor and he climbed into the shower.
How was he going to deal with Spock? The very thought of his commanding officer made him nauseous. He lathered up an unnecessary amount of shampoo and scrubbed it into his hair hard enough that he felt the heat rising from his scalp. If he hid in the shower he could say he felt sick. Spock would understand…but he would just request his presence again the next day. And the next day. And every day until the god damn five year mission was over. Leonard sighed as he let the water push hair down over his face. He couldn't escape.
Ten minutes later he was outside of Spock's door, hair still damp, same grumpy expression on his face. He rang the chime and the door opened immediately to present a very proper looking Vulcan wearing traditional, black Vulcan robes. Leonard's eyebrow perked up to his hairline. "What's with the get up?" he asked. He was answered by a step back and an extended hand to invite into the room.
He'd only ever been in Spock's quarters once before and they were exactly as he had remembered them. They were hot, upwards of ninety degrees Fahrenheit, and the lights were dim. It reminded Leonard of the planet Vulcan. There were even the same shades of red mixed into the room by tapestries and ceremonial statues scattered about the room.
"Please have a seat, Doctor," Spock said stoically, waving a hand toward a mat on the floor before an altar. Leonard hesitated, but sat down, crossing his legs Indian style. He watched silently as Spock sat across from him. Leonard had never seen him out of uniform before and something about it was comforting, as if he had a real personality behind that perfect Starfleet record.
"Tonight we are going to attempt to teach you mental discipline. In many instances, this is the most effective tool in rebuilding endurance and stability after a traumatic event."
"I haven't gone through any damn traumatic event!" Leonard spat, his face growing red with frustration. The heat in the room was getting to him now and he could feel little drips of sweat roll down the back of his neck onto his uniform.
"To repair and prevent damage from anxiety, the same measures are taken. I will help you to build mental barriers so that you are better able to control your emotions."
"I'm not a damn school girl, Spock!" Leonard wiped some of the sweat from his head. "I'm a grown man, I can control myself."
"Evidently not," Spock answered calmly.
"God damn it Spock! I can control myself and why is it so damn hot in this room?!"
"Computer," the level of Spock's voice remained the same. "Reduce temperature by ten degrees Fahrenheit." Leonard could feel himself cooling off immediately.
"You have tried your way, Doctor, and it has failed. If you want to be healthy again, I suggest you allow me to help." The doctor swore he almost heard a bit of emotion behind those words. A little bit of Vulcan annoyance mixed with a little bit of Vulcan desperacy.
He grumbled to himself and crossed his arms over his chest - a sign that he was giving up and Spock could do whatever he liked. He would be along for the ride, but he wasn't going to like it.
"Let us begin."
If those words didn't make Leonard's heart sink right down to his stomach, Spock's hands reaching toward his face sure did.
"HEY! Hey, what are you doing?!" Leonard unfolded his arms and rocked back onto his hands to get as far away from Spock without moving. He wasn't told there was going to be touching involved in this.
"I am initiating the meld."
"MELD?! No. No way you are going in my head." Drugs were one thing, meditation was another, but there was no way Spock was going into his head. He would see every thought Leonard has ever had, all the feelings directed toward him, all the lonely nights and dirty thoughts, all the guilty touches in the dark…
"Doctor, you need my assistance. I am no longer going to tolerate your stalling."
Leonard's voice suddenly changed to a pathetic, pleading tone that he barely recognized. "Spock…please…no. You can't. You can't go into my mind I-"
"Doctor I will not judge you on anything I see there. Vulcan's are unable to be prejudiced against any individual because of their thoughts or feelings. Now, please allow me to initiate the meld."
Leonard sighed and leaned forward again. His heart was beating a million miles a minute. He closed his eyes and waited for it to hit him. Spock's hand landed on his face so gently that, for a moment, he was unsure if it were real or not. For ten of the longest seconds of his life, nothing happened, and then it hit him. There was a presence in his mind, a faint buzzing far off, at first, but it grew stronger. And suddenly Spock was with him in a way he could not describe.
He was being very polite about the whole ordeal too. He remained in the forefront of Leonard's consciousness so as not to delve into any of his thoughts. Surprisingly, the doctor knew exactly what Spock could feel or see, but was unable to feel anything of Spock himself.
That is because you are unable to reciprocate any telepathic connection, Spock said to him. Leonard nearly pulled away for a moment. Spock was able to speak to him through the meld?
I am able to do this, Doctor. You are not, as of yet, but there is no need for you to answer me.
Well fine then, he thought, giving a small grunt in response. If Spock was just going to use him for his brain, then let him have it.
Are you prepared to begin the exercise?
Leonard nodded slowly and gasped very quietly as he felt Spock push into his mind.
And suddenly everything was a runaway train.
Every panicked moment, every hot-blooded argument, every Starfleet report, teeth brushing, shower, meal, conversation with Jim, drink with Scotty, physical examination, masturbation, paperwork, away mission, and chess game flooded into Spock with more power than a tidal wave. Leonard tried to pull back, but had absolutely no knowledge of how to do anything, so he sat there and waited nervously for Spock to communicate with him again.
Then, without warning, one familiar feeling was pulled to the front. Not voluntarily, by either party, but just by habit. It was the warm feeling Leonard got when Spock paid him attention, no matter how small or insignificant. It was the thrill he got out of brushing against the Vulcan's overheated arm on the bridge. It was the happiness in his heart when Spock survived an away mission mostly unscathed. It was the overjoyed feeling that Leonard had the past two days when he recalled those Vulcan words being spilled from those perfect lips.
He didn't think it was possible, but he felt Spock tense up beside him. For one horrible minute, the two of them felt the same emotion, saw the same images of the Vulcan officer. Spock knew how Leonard felt now and there was absolutely no hiding it.
He wasn't sure what to do and Spock wasn't answering or moving. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't seem to work his mouth. The longer the images remained in his head, the hotter his face and neck felt, and the more nauseous he got. Suddenly, without warning, Spock's hand was gone from his face and his presence was gone from his mind.
The room was deathly quiet and he realized for the first time that the blood rushing through his ears had sounded like an avalanche. Now that he was alone with his thoughts, his heart was calming down. Carefully, he peeked one eye open and then the other. Through the darkness he could see Spock, eyebrows raised, brown eyes glossy, with a deep green blush on his cheeks. Leonard could throw up at the sight of it.
"Spock, I'm really sorry. I didn't-"
"There is no need for apologies, Doctor."
He wanted to argue, to tell him that of course there were needs for apologies. He made a Vulcan blush, something he didn't even know was possible. But Spock's voice was so broken that all he could do was snap his jaw shut and wait.
"Look, I should just go…"
"No." Spock's hand shot out and grabbed Leonard's wrist. The doctor froze, his blue eyes wide and locked on Spock's face looking for any trace of emotion. "I was not expecting to see such things from you, Doctor, but-"
"Leonard."
"I beg your pardon?"
"My name is Leonard. I think after seeing that you can call me by my name."
Spock hesitated for a moment then continued slowly, as if he were having trouble choosing his words. "Leonard, it was unexpected, but there is no reason for you to feel guilt. It is illogical to apologize for something over which you have no control. Your feelings for me are not by choice and instead of trying to change the situation, it is most logical to deal with what we are given."
Leonard blinked a few times. What was he saying? Was he suggesting that they roll with it? Was this his way of accepting a sort of proposal? If this was as forward as Spock was going to be about it, then this might be his only chance to act.
Without another thought, Leonard tugged his arm harshly, pulling Spock forward. In one not-so-graceful movement, he managed to have their lips collide in a very awkward, very uncomfortable kiss.
Neither of them moved for a while, getting over the shock of what was happening, then, very slowly, Leonard opened his mouth against the Vulcan's and allowed himself a taste. Spock did not reciprocate, which wasn't entirely surprising, but Leonard had jumped in too far now, he couldn't back out. After it was over, he was going to die of embarrassment, so why not go all out before it was over?
Spock's lips were burning hot, like the rest of him, and soft, like his neck had been the previous day. They tasted like the Vulcan smelled - a mixture of soap and his own, unique man-scent. He sharply inhaled, allowing his nose to be filled with it before poking his tongue out and gently gliding along Spock's lower lip.
After a while, he came out of his trance and realized Spock still had not moved a fraction of an inch, and he reluctantly pulled away. His superior officer was sprawled in the most awkward position, one elbow on the ground, the other arm trapped in Leonard's grasp, and one knee pointed toward the ceiling. Suddenly mortified with what he'd done, he jumped up, allowing Spock to fall the rest of the way to the ground. He watched him for a moment, desperately wishing for words to form, but when panic started to set in and tears formed, he knew there was no point in trying. Without another word he stepped around the altar and rushed out the door.