Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Why do you refer to Dr. McCoy as ‘Bones’, Captain?”

Kirk laughed. “Who knows, at this point? It’s been so long, I honestly can’t even remember how it started.”

“Well, I find it highly illogical,” said Spock, placing his hands on his hips.

“Do you, now?” Kirk couldn’t help but smile.

“The vast majority of your species possesses the same number of bones, and Dr. McCoy is no exception. You might as well call him Skin or Organs.”

“It’s just a nickname,” Kirk told him. “It doesn’t have to make sense.”

“You have never felt the need to refer to me by a nickname.”

“Why, Mr. Spock, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous,” Kirk teased.

“Jealous?” Spock raised an eyebrow. “Vulcans are incapable of experiencing jealousy.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Silly me.”

But Spock was standing closer to Kirk than was strictly necessary. There was enough distance between them that anyone who passed them in the corridor would think nothing of it, but all it would take was one swing of the arm, and they would be touching. Kirk felt electrified by the possibility. He could do that now—take Spock’s hand. They were. . . in a relationship, of sorts. A secret one, of course, so he couldn’t do anything at the moment, but still. . .

The doors to the sickbay wooshed open. Kirk and Spock stepped inside. Crew members crowded the space. There had been a viral outbreak aboard the ship, so now everyone had to be vaccinated. Kirk saw Nurse Chapel darting around with hypos, but before he could spot Bones, he heard a loud rip to his left. Suddenly, his shirt was torn open.

“It’s about damn time, Jim,” Bones grumbled, injecting his arm. “You must be the last person aboard to show up. What, were you waiting for the strain to mutate?”

“You know, you could have asked me to roll up my sleeve,” Kirk replied, glancing down at his now-exposed chest.

“No time for that. I’m busy,” Bones replied, but he nonetheless waited for Spock to roll up his sleeve before administering an injection. More’s the pity—Kirk wouldn’t have objected to an opportunity to see Spock shirtless. “You may feel some nausea,” Bones told Spock, “but don’t blame me if you do. Any side effects come courtesy of your own green-blooded biology.”

“Why does the captain call you Bones?” Spock asked.

“Hell if I know,” said Bones. “Just because Jim and I share a species doesn’t mean he makes sense to me.”

“Doctor,” Chapel called from across the room. “Can you help with this—”

Bones rushed away without another word.

Kirk fingered his torn shirt with a sigh. “I guess I’d better get changed before heading back to the bridge.”

“Yes. It is likely the crew will find the state of your uniform distracting,” said Spock.

Kirk smirked up at Spock. “Are you distracted?”

Spock tore his gaze from Kirk’s chest. “Of course not.”

But, when Kirk went to change his uniform, leaving Spock alone in the hall, his thoughts were fixed on the captain. This was not logical. Spock willed himself to focus on work as he headed toward the bridge, but faint dissatisfaction tugged at his mind.

Spock and the captain were, to borrow the human phrase, “in a relationship” now. That was not the cause of his dissatisfaction, although he disliked the nebulousness of the expression. What kind of relationship? They were not betrothed. They were . . . he supposed the word “partners” came closest, but, even then, Kirk was still technically his superior officer.

Words were unnecessary. What he and Kirk shared defied simple explanation. Their bond lived in shared glances charged with warmth, hands brushed in stolen moments, kisses behind closed doors. Spock knew Kirk’s mind like he knew his own. He understood him perfectly and was understood in turn

Spock acknowledged this with a sense of deep satisfaction, as if he had found the solution to a chess problem hitherto thought to be impossible. He was not happy about it, merely. . . content. That was acceptable.

Then why the lack of inner clarity? Why was Spock—not upset, nothing so emotional—but distracted? What weighed on his mind?

For some reason, he recalled Dr. McCoy ripping Kirk’s shirt open. It was a wholly illogical, human gesture. An act of passion . It might almost pass for a mating ritual.

Spock paused.

He had not mated with Kirk. He did not intend to. Pon farr notwithstanding, he did not experience the physical urges that would precipitate such behavior. In a clear, logical state of mind, the very thought of it was repulsive. However, Spock knew that humans viewed the matter differently. Within their couplings, they mated frequently—as often as possible, it seemed. As their bond deepened, would Kirk expect this from Spock?

There were no emotions attached to this question. Spock simply felt an unrelated tightening in his chest, perhaps a side effect of the vaccine. He was satisfied with the relationship as it stood, but the thought that Kirk might find it inadequate. . .

Spock brushed any incipient emotion aside and continued down the corridor. If Kirk wanted something Spock could not provide, Spock would simply encourage him to seek it elsewhere. Kirk certainly encountered enough females who were amenable to his charms. However, these liaisons were brought about by chance. Kirk might find it preferable to have a more stable alternate arrangement in place, with someone else aboard the ship perhaps. But, who?

Ideally, it would be someone Spock could tolerate. While Kirk enjoyed physical encounters, they tended to be emotionally driven. If he was engaging in regular intercourse with an individual, it was likely he would develop romantic feelings for them, even if he did not have any to begin with, possibly culminating in a secondary partnership. Kirk would then most illogically insist upon this person and Spock becoming friends, if not forming a tertiary partnership of their own.

Spock first thought of Uhura. He found her presence agreeable, and he believed any human would consider her a worthy mate. However, Spock knew Kirk’s sense of propriety and duty would prevent him from forming an intimate relationship with any female crewman. That left the males. Of that number, there were few favorable options.

Spock considered the bridge crew. He did not have much of a rapport with Sulu or Chekhov, but he supposed he would not object if Kirk chose to pursue them. Mr. Scott had a strong scientific mind that Spock could admire, and he and the captain could undoubtedly bond over their shared love of the Enterprise. Then there was Dr. McCoy. . .

Despite the fact that Dr. McCoy seemed to derive great pleasure from antagonizing Spock, he was nonetheless a friend. He was intelligent, when emotionally driven outbursts did not compromise his judgment, compassionate, and strong-willed. In those respects, he was much like Kirk. It was no mystery why the two men got along so well. Spock saw no reason why they would not also be compatible as mates.

That settled things. The next time Spock saw Dr. McCoy, he would provide his analysis of the situation and allow him to arrive at the appropriate conclusion.

***

Just as Bones was preparing to leave the sickbay for the night, Spock showed up. Bones narrowly held back a sigh. It was possible the Vulcan was having a bad reaction to the hypo after all—if that was the case, he would keep his annoyance in check long enough to make sure nothing was wrong.

“What do you want?” he barked. 

Well, most of his annoyance, anyway. He was only human.

“I need to speak to you about a matter regarding Jim Kirk.”

This time, Bones let himself sigh. Loudly. “Let me guess—he’s pushing himself too hard. Too many late nights and early mornings, too busy obsessing over ‘losing his edge’ to realize he’s already lost it.”

“That is his default state of being,” Spock agreed, “and you are correct that it is disadvantageous.”

“Well, I’ll be. Correct, am I?” Bones grinned. “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there, Spock?”

“However, in a larger sense, you are still incorrect, because that is not why I am here.”

“Couldn’t just let me have it, huh?” Bones rubbed his temples. “All right, then. I’ll bite—what’s wrong with Jim?”

“Nothing is wrong with him, doctor. I have come to inform you that Jim and I have entered a partnership—”

“You what? ”

“We have entered a partnership,” Spock repeated. “However—”

“I can’t believe Jim didn’t tell me! The bastard!” Bones exclaimed.

“We decided it would be in the best interest of our careers to remain discreet,” said Spock. “I am trusting you not to tell anyone else.”

Bones dropped a hand that had been reaching for his communicator. Scotty owed him money, but there was no way to tell him he’d lost the bet without revealing the secret. Damn.

“My lips are sealed,” said Bones.

“No, they are not. You are speaking,” Spock pointed out.

“You know what I mean!” Bones snapped.

“I rarely do, doctor. Your use of language is frequently inscrutable.”

“What’s inscrutable is why you’re here,” said Bones. “If your relationship with Jim is some kind of secret, what are you telling me for? What do you want, my congratulations? For me to walk you down the aisle at the wedding?”

“We are not betrothed.”

“Not yet,” Bones muttered. Knowing Jim, he’d probably propose the second the five-year mission ended.

“I am Jim’s. . . partner,” said Spock, an unusual note of hesitation in his low, even voice, “but I am not his mate.”

Bones’s brow furrowed. “You mean, you’re not having sex?” The faintest hint of green tinted Spock’s ears, and Bones fought back a grin. If there was one upside to Spock’s new relationship with Jim, it was that it gave him plenty of ammunition to tease him with.

“We are not. I have neither the drive nor interest to engage in intercourse outside of pon farr. As a human yourself, as well as a doctor, you are no doubt aware that your species tends to mate more frequently.”

“You could say that,” said Bones drily. “Once every seven years isn’t much to go on for most folks.”

“I agree,” said Spock, but before Bones could crow over his second unexpected victory, he continued. “As Jim’s partner, it is my duty to ensure his needs are met. I cannot meet this need. I have considered the alternatives and come to the conclusion that you would fill this niche most optimally, if you chose to, of course.”

It took Bones a moment to realize what Spock was saying. “Hold on just a minute. You want me to—to—”

“To engage in sexual intercourse with my partner,” said Spock.

“With Jim,” said Bones faintly.

Spock nodded. “With Jim.”

Well, it’s not like Bones hadn’t thought about it. You’d have to be stupid not to. Jim was a good man, a good friend, and damn good-looking to boot. But—

“Jim’s not one to just take what he wants and leave, Spock,” Bones explained, his tone almost gentle. “Sex can be very emotional. If you’re in some kind of relationship with him—well, Jim having sex with someone else might get in the way. I wouldn’t do that to my friends.”

Spock’s reply was immediate. “I took that under consideration, doctor. I have calculated the probability that any sexual partnership involving Jim would evolve into a romantic one at 73.9%.”

Bones wasn’t surprised. He’d bet his medical license that Jim was a cuddler. What did surprise him was that Spock apparently didn’t mind.

“That sounds like it could get complicated,” he said.

“It could. In all likelihood, Jim will attempt to simplify it by joining the two separate romantic partnerships into a single unified relationship.”

Bones’s mouth fell open. “Are you trying to recruit me into a polycule? ”

“Yes,” said Spock. “It appears you understand.”

“Hold on. I need a second,” said Bones, cradling his face in his hands.

Spock was silent for a moment. Then: “That was one second. Do you require another, or—”

“Just let me think, you literal-minded menace!”

Bones thought about it. Although he’d rather die than admit it to that smug Vulcan, he was honestly a little flattered that Spock had sought him out. It showed a lot of trust. He wasn’t interested in sleeping with Spock—okay, so maybe he was, a little bit, but only as a matter of scientific curiosity, so it didn’t count—but that wasn’t on the table anyway.

A partnership—that was what was on offer. A relationship with Jim at the center, loved and cared for by them both. Put that way, it didn’t seem all that different from the bond they shared already.

“Before I say anything, you tell me something, Spock,” Bones started, fixing Spock with his sternest gaze. “Is this some logical plot you’ve cooked up behind Jim’s back?”

“He is currently unaware of it, but I do not foresee any objections,” Spock replied.

Bones threw up his hands. “You’re out of your mind! Didn’t you once stop to think that maybe you should ask Jim if he’s interested in all this?”

“It did not seem necessary. I know him, and I believe he will be pleased.”

“Well, ask him,” Bones insisted, crossing his arms.

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you are interested?”

***

Later that evening, Kirk was poised on the edge of his bed, casting longing glances at the door. He’d arranged for Spock to meet him in his quarters when he finished up his business in the lab, and every second of waiting was a second too long. Then, finally, he heard Spock’s low voice at the door.

“Come in!” Kirk exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Before he knew it, he was racing across the room, all but throwing himself at Spock. Fortunately, Spock was strong enough to withstand the onslaught. At first, he was still as Kirk embraced him, not reciprocating but doing nothing to pull away. Then, very gently, he hugged Kirk back. Kirk melted into his arms. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“I have been waiting just as long,” Spock replied.

Kirk laughed. “Sure, but it’s easier for you.” He pulled back enough to smile up at Spock. “You get to be all cold and logical. I have these messy things called emotions—joy, impatience, desire. They make waiting very difficult.”

“Then you would be better off without them.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Spock. I like my emotions just fine. The waiting is harder, but this—” Kirk got on tiptoe to give Spock a kiss “—feels so much better.” He sighed, satisfied, and nestled against Spock’s chest, closing his eyes. “I wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything.”

Spock smiled softly.

Then: “Jim, I have something to ask you.”

Kirk straightened up, intrigued. “Ask away.”

“I want you to have sex—”

“ Done! ”

“—with Dr. McCoy.”

Kirk blinked, stunned. “Any particular reason why?” he asked when he found his voice.

Spock explained his rationale. Kirk was torn between being amused and touched.

“It seems you’ve really thought this through.”

“Of course I have,” Spock replied.

Kirk lightly stroked the back of Spock’s hand. For a second, it looked like Spock was blushing, but it could have been a trick of the light. “And you did all this thinking. . . for me. Because you wanted to make sure I was happy.”

“That is a correct assessment of the situation,” said Spock, his eyes lingering on Kirk’s fingers.

“Well, just so you know, sex or no sex, I’m happy with you .” There was no denying it—Spock definitely blushed that time. “You’re smarter than I am, Spock, and more than that—I trust you,” said Kirk. “If you think this three-way relationship is the best way to go about things, I’m glad to give it a try.”

***

So, the next night, Bones met Kirk in his quarters while Spock waited in his own. Eventually, Kirk called him on the communicator, sounding a bit breathless, and Spock left to join them. He found the two men in bed, with Bones curled up against Kirk’s chest, already snoring. Kirk’s hair was tousled, his face was flushed, and his eyes sparkled. Spock smiled at the sight of him, telling himself that he wasn’t experiencing an emotion—merely rational satisfaction that his plan had succeeded.

“Come here,” Kirk whispered, and Spock obeyed.

It was a tight fit, getting into bed, but Spock managed, wrapping his arms around Kirk and resting his chin on his shoulder. Spock always felt cool aboard the Enterprise, so he found the heat emanating from his bedmates soothing. He especially savored the warmth of Kirk’s skin against his own.

Before long, Kirk was asleep as well, his breathing all but drowned out by Bones’s rumbling snore. Still, Spock could feel him breathe. He tried to time his breaths to his partner’s, entering a restful, almost meditative state, until any sense of distance between the two of them dissipated. Partner was not a strong enough word for the bond they shared, and they had transcended any need for mating.

Soulmates. That was the word.

Spock pressed a light, almost imperceptible kiss to the back of Kirk’s head. “Sleep well, t’hy’la,” he murmured. Bones let out an exceptionally loud snore. “And Bones.”