This was written for Trektober 2023 Day 12: Meet Cute.
When Leonard McCoy first steps onto the Enterprise the first thing he noticed was his twisted stomach. It aches with the knowledge of having been ripped apart and pieced back together atom by atom. He closes his eyes and braces himself against the wall. He drops the pack he'd been carrying with his last few belongings that weren't transporter ahead of him. With practiced patience, Leonard forces himself to take deep breaths. It'll pass. He'll get used to that sensation.
He has to.
"Dr. McCoy!" The enthusiasm in Jim's voice is undercut by the formal title. Bones knows he is glad for his presence. Jim would not have been so insistent in his request otherwise. Professionalism. It's a tightrope thin line to walk, and what's at the end of it? One self-imposed cage for a fleet-enforced one.
McCoy raises his head and offers Jim an annoyed scowl. Jim beams at him. Between those warm hazel eyes, that bright hair, and the gleaming teeth, it's impossible for Jim not to radiate warmth and sunshine. The scowl gives way to an honest smile. Leonard pushes himself off the wall and strolls down the transporter's steps.
"Well if it isn't Jim Kirk." McCoy moves to raise his hands, offering his oldest friend a hug.
He half expects Kirk to sidestep it. Especially when the captain looks back and forth between the vulcan to his right and the head engineer at the transporter's control console. Instead, Jim steps closer and meets McCoy halfway. Well, there's no escape for him now. Leonard wraps his arms around Kirk's shoulders, giving him a strong squeeze. Jim's arms loop under his own, and barely press into his back. It's a polite hug if anything.
McCoy steps back, fixing a curious look on Jim. He's seen the made if lower spirits, and never had one of his hugs felt so half-hearted.
Kirk steps back and quickly looks back at the vulcan. "Dr. McCoy this is my number one, and our head science officer, Mr. Spock."
"Well," McCoy pushes his worries to the back of his mind. Putting on his best grin, he offers out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Spock."
With a completely impassive face, Mr. Spock glances down at Leonard's hand. For a solid thirty seconds, his gaze remains transfixed on the outstretched palm. Then he slowly raises his head again. Cold, emotionless, dark brown eyes stare Leonard down. "It's not diseased or anything if that's what yer worried about."
James lets out a chuckle. "Vulcans are apparently not prone to physical contact with others, doctor." He clasps a hand around McCoy's shoulder, guiding him towards the other gentlemen in the room. "And this is our head engineer, Mr. Scott."
"I for one, am a fan of handshakes doctor." The man begins grabbing McCoy's left hand with both of his. He has a firm handshake. One the doctor would have returned if he wasn't preoccupied with placing the accent.
It's definitely Scottish adjacent. Leonard looks over at Jim who gives a knowing wink and smile. A Scotsman named Scotty. A more humorous man would have a joke there.
"Bridge to captain." A smooth voice calls out over the comms.
Kirk strides over to the computer and answers. "What is it Uhura?" McCoy walks back to the transporter and picks up his pack.
"There's a malfunction with the computer system, sir. We need you and Mr. Scott up on the bridge." Jim shoots Scotty an impatient glance. The engineer strides out of the room wearing an apologetic smile.
Then Kirk is standing before him, looking much less like an old friend and more as the captain. His back is so rigidly straight, that McCoy knows exactly who he'll be giving his first examination to.
Once the other two were gone, Spock and McCoy were left alone in the transporter room. The two stare each other down, neither seemingly sure of what to say or where to go from here. Bones couldn't help but feel a little letdown. He comes all this way, agrees to take a post on a five-year mission into the depths of who knows where, and all he gets is a lackluster hug plus a hurried farewell. He didn't expect Jim to make a big show upon his arrival, but doesn't an old friend merit a slightly warmer welcome?
"Doctor McCoy," the vulcan starts, his dark black hair shining under the room's ceiling lights. "I will lead you to your room."
Now he's being chaperoned. Stellar start. McCoy waves him off, "No, there's no need. I'm sure the captain needs you up on the bridge."
Spock looks back at the door, as if someone else may come back. When he turns back he states rather emotionlessly, "The captain will call for me if my presence is required." The vulcan gestures with a hand toward McCoy. "You are new to the ship. It will be easier for you to adjust with an experienced guide."
McCoy shifts the pack he has slung over his shoulders. "Isn't that work for an ensign?"
"The captain will be happier, knowing someone with," Spock stops and tilts his head, as if searching for the right word. "Importance showed you around."
McCoy stops just short in front of Spock. He places his free hand on his hip. "Jim's never been one to care much about rank." Not before anyway.
The vulcan raises a brow. "The captain made note that he wanted me to specifically help you grow adjusted to the ship."
Bones nods, piecing it together. Jim wanted them to get along because they'd be working closely together. Well, he can play along with that. Even if this level of stoicism was something he's not used to. "Well then, lead the way." Leonard steps back and waves his hand out towards the door.
Spock folds his hands behind his back. He takes one step towards the door before the whole ship starts to rock.
Caught off guard, McCoy tries to steady himself but trips over his own damn feet. He goes tumbling forward, just as Spock turns around. Leonard collides, face first into a rather lean and sturdy chest. A pair of arms wrap around his back, holding him in an embrace-like state as the shaking continues. The pair fall further forward from McCoy's view. There's a loud thud as Spock's back hits a wall. Finally, they stop moving. The ship's shaking continues for a moment more.
"Well," Leonard begins as he lifts his head. Spock was staring down at him, making no move to release his hold. "I, uh," McCoy's voice trails off as he nervously starts to pull back. The vulcan releases his hold on him. "Sorry 'bout that Mr. Spock. I suppose I haven't earned my space legs yet."
"Turbelence is quite common on a ship that dwells deep into space like this one." Another thing he'll have to get used to. Turbulence and a vulcan who doesn't get the joke.
"Yes well, sorry about the," he waves his hand gesturing towards Spock's chest. "Landing on you thing. I know people who are touch-averse like yourself. I'll be more careful with picking where I fall in the future."
"I am not touch aversed doctor. My people are touch telepaths." The vulcan explains, and for the first time since encountering him, McCoy could swear there was a new light in Spock's eyes. The barest form of emotional display. "We consider touch a very special thing to be reserved for those closest to us."
"Ah, well, all the same. Sorry." His cheeks feel like someone lit a bunch of firecrackers in them. Here he stands, flustered, and there's just the barest difference in the vulcan's face. As if he truly couldn't be bothered to feel anything at all. That can't be healthy.
"It's fine. In fact, I'm relieved that you were not wounded in the fall by this." Spock unfolds his hands, reaches deep within his pocket, and pulls out a small neatly wrapped gift. It was thin, and rectangular in shape, with clean, unwrinkled baby blue wrapping paper covering it. A ribbon was used to tie a bow on top. The knot was so perfect, and unmoved that McCoy finds it hard to believe the gift was in Spock's pocket.
Never on any of his other ships, or stations had he been greeted so warmly. The doctor stares up at Spock. Was it his eyes playing tricks on him or was there the faintest hint of a smile on the other man's face? "You didn't have to get me a gift, Mr. Spock."
"I'm aware." McCoy would have considered his matter-of-fact tone rude, were it not for the circumstances. It's hard to be stern when presented with a gift.
Leonard takes the gift and very carefully slips the ribbon off, wanting to leave it tied and as a keepsake. Using his pointer finger's nail, he slides it along the bottom, of the box's lid. The wrapping paper gives way, breaking neatly, under the pressure.
When he lifts the lid off, an old, metal tool gleams up at him. It's black and polished giving it the look of obsidian. The tool is cushioned by a purple mass of silk beneath. McCoy runs a finger along the top of it. The blade at the tip is curved to a ridiculous degree, causing the tip to nearly touch the base of the blade itself. It's very cold, and clearly metal, not stone. The material feels completely foreign to his experienced touch.
McCoy's finger continues to trail down, digging down against the hilt of the tool. He hadn't noticed until his finger felt the bumps, but there was a pattern along the hilt. A series of symbols he didn't recognize, that are barely elevated above the rest of the hilt. It's not meant to be obvious. He realizes with a start that this item has been very well taken care of. The doctor raises his head, concern filling his chest. He can't accept such a clearly special item. Whatever it's for.
Spock raises a hand to stop his refusal. "The captain made mention of your fondness for antique medical equipment." He lowers his hand, pointing it towards the box. "That is an old vulcan surgical tool."
Utterly dumbfounded, McCoy looks back down at the gift. It was incredibly thoughtful, especially for a stranger. That bewilderment is accompanied by a deeply seated gratefulness. Jim talks about him. Has been talking about him to at least Spock and the vulcan had listened. He cares, and clearly, very deeply. That's an emotion if McCoy ever knew one. So while the front? Was it due to him being vulcan? Was it in their customs to deny and suppress emotions, or was Spock just a stoic individual? Either could be the case, but Kirk had made mention of vulcans earlier.
The doctor was still lost in thought as the door opened. Spock calls from the hallway, "Are you coming, doctor?"
McCoy quickly places the lid back on the box and walks very carefully with the gift in hand, and his pack slung over his shoulder. "It's not out of your way to guide me, is it?"
"No. Your room and mine share a wall." McCoy tries to keep the illicit thrill that triggered within him, contained. Perhaps his time on this ship shall be spent with more company than just Jim's. "You share a bathroom with Mr. Scott who you met earlier."
"So Kirk wanted me to get to know my roommates first, huh?"
"We are not your roommates."
"That wasn't-" McCoy lets out a sigh. With a shy smile, he shakes his head. "Never mind Mr. Spock."
When Spock dropped him off at his room, he gave a tour of the interior. All of McCoy's boxes with his belongings were neatly set aside in an empty corner of the room. Out of the way. Bones continued to insist that he didn't need a tour, but Spock was stubborn. Perhaps as stubborn as Kirk, and remained to make sure the doctor knew where everything on the ship was because as soon as the pack and gift were set down, the vulcan led him throughout the rest of the ship.
By the end, it felt all the more clear to Doctor McCoy, that Spock was a deeply emotional individual who wore a facade to hide his internal workings from the outside world. One that Jim had no problem fighting back against, as would become apparent over the course of his first few days on the Enterprise.
Later the doctor had a long internal debate about where to keep Spock's gift. A part of him wanted to keep it close by, in his room. That way he could make sure it was well taken care of and not within reach of others. However, he was in dire need of more decorations for sickbay. Many of his personal objects were decorating the walls around the biobeds and surgery room, leaving his objects in dire need of more.
In the end, the sickbay won out. He hangs it right across from his desk. That way every time he's stuck writing a long report or has retreated to rest after a difficult patient, he'd raise his head and see it. A constant reminder that, indeed, Spock does in fact care. No matter how much his vulcan customs may demand he denies it.
Thank you to the individuals on the Trek Triumvirate discord that read through this.