Happy Whumptober, everyone!

McCoy chewed his lip and paced another round in his office. He couldn't go back to his room yet - curse him for a fool, but Spock was off-duty for another hour, and he couldn't risk running into the man when their rooms were so close together.

His normal staff had long since turned in for the night, leaving him to cite paperwork and stew (hide) in his office. Bones came to a halt and dragged shaking hands over his face.

The sheer enormity of Sarpedion crashes over him in waves, impossible to digest, impossible to wrap his mind around.

"I don't like that. I don't think I ever did, and now I'm sure."

Could it be… could he be… all these years…?

No, no, this was blown out of proportion. They were friends.

What kind of friend would say those things?

Spock didn't really feel… that way about it. He'd brought McCoy to his wedding for god's sake!

One of his closest friends and he'd still been stabbing Spock in the back.

But he didn't mean… of course he'd never meant anything by what he'd said. Foolish words, bandied about in the heat of the moment, never truly intended to hurt.

Except for the times they were. Except for when you were so desperate to be right, so determined to drag the truth out of him that you wanted him to hurt, if only to know he felt something.

He hadn't meant it like that. He'd defended Spock, hadn't he? Against the Platonians, when they tried to drag the emotions out of him?

Congratulations, Leonard. You're better than the abusive puppet-masters. What a shining beacon of morality are you.

Well, how could he have known anyway? How could he have known better if Spock never told him?

And was the onus on Spock, Leonard? Did you need to be told not to be cruel to him? Shouldn't your default have been tolerance, not racism?

Racism! No! He's spent all this time in space, he fights for the lives of all his patients just the same, no matter who they are. He's saved so many of them! Spock is one of his closest friends - Spock couldn't mean any more to him if he'd been a human. Of all the fool ideas - this was ridiculous. Spock never said Leonard bothered him - it was his fault if he'd never spoken up before now. Leonard was gruff with everyone, it was a part of his character.

And yet Spock couldn't speak up, not without betraying his values. He could never admit you were hurting him. Maybe couldn't even admit it to himself. And Leonard… you aren't just coarse with Spock - all those commands, Leonard. All those times Spock had to command in the way he saw fit, and you nearly committed mutiny against him. The mission in the Galileo, Leonard. The time Jim was shifted to another plane of reality. The time Jim was stranded, amnesiac on a planet to be destroyed by a meteor. God, how have you never been written up for insubordination before now? What are you still doing out in space?

No… no, god it can't be. He doesn't want to be that person - he isn't that person. He's… had a few outbursts. Sure, he should've been called out before now. But doesn't the pressure get to everyone sometimes? Really, this is Spock's fault for never reprimanding him before now, for letting things escalate the way they have.

Is there no end to your excuses, Leonard? Stop blaming Spock for your own mistakes. Maybe Spock never spoke up because he didn't believe anyone would care enough to support him. You sure weren't convincing him any different.

Shaking, Leonard collapsed against a wall, tilting his head back against the smooth metal. He hadn't meant anything by the pointed comments about Spock's ears, or blood really… Spock had seemed so proud of his Vulcan half that it had seemed like something safe, something almost ridiculous to joke about. Even Jim did it, sometimes.

And the rest of it… the prodding at Spock's emotions the… god, had he said something was wrong when Spock's heart was put together? In front of the crew? To the crew? So long ago… before he'd really known who Spock was. He'd fought Spock's command decisions time and again… but of course he did. He disagreed with them. He'd thought they could be better… but how had he done it? As a supportive friend and counsel offering advice, or an adversary, tearing against someone whose basest philosophies he couldn't stand?

…What was he doing in space? Why him, if he couldn't even put up with the philosophies of the Vulcans, co-founders of the Federation, brilliant and pacifists to boot.

… He had to make this up to Spock. Somehow. He had to apologize, and he couldn't keep working around it. Somehow, his whole relationship with Spock had revolved around hurting the other man, for years and he didn't know how to… move forward. Once he apologized… then what? He didn't know what he could do anymore, and he wasn't really sure Spock would tell him.

The future loomed, inscrutable and intimidating overhead. What would his arguments with Spock look like now? Could they still argue? Banter? If they had to debate the best course of action, how would they interact? Perhaps they could still be professional with each other, but Leonard doesn't know how to be positive with Spock - how to say nice things and be open with the other man - and he knows Spock doesn't know how to do the same to him.

He'd always trusted his emotions to guide him through relationships before - overthinking an inherently emotional affair had always seemed ludicrous. But now he has been betrayed: has betrayed himself, and even now he feels part of himself rage at Spock as a flimsy defense against the crushing horror and guilt that threatens to consume him.

And he… he's so sorry. More than he has the words to say, more than he can grasp himself. He's so sorry, and he needs to make Spock understand it and he needs to know what to do with himself now, and… and he's a wreck and he doesn't know what to do about it.