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This story occurs after A Choice to Make and is based off TOS: Operation--Annihilate! and TOS: Amok Time. I do hope you enjoy and please forgive errors!




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.







The first time McCoy had suspected something was off was when, during a game of kal-toh in his quarters a day after that harrowing ordeal on Deneva, Spock had admitted he did have an appreciation for beauty, and that he probably would’ve kissed Nyota had she been the first sight he’d seen upon regaining his vision.

It’d been from on his back on the floor that McCoy had let it sink in that Spock had used Uhura’s given name, and he watched Spock complete the sphere—his shock at the first officer’s confession causing him to lose his balance from leaning on the chair’s two back legs.

Spock had then helped him to his feet with an amused expression and bade him goodnight, citing lute lessons in Uhura’s quarters within the next hour. McCoy guessed it’d probably taken that next hour to get his gaping mouth to finally close.

McCoy’s suspicions had deepened the next night during the farewell celebration for some members of the crew who’d been reassigned to other posts. The stop at Starbase 10 had been to make the transfer and for brief downtime, but Spock had worked practically nonstop—per usual. McCoy had all but ordered Kirk down to the party after dropping his nephew off at the spaceport to return to Earth to his grandmother, wanting the captain to have a bit of good cheer even though he grieved for his brother and sister-in-law. Uhura and Chapel had doted on Peter, not that McCoy blamed them. That was a boy who’d needed a good spoiling considering all he’d lost.

“Five minutes, Bones, and then I’m going back to the ship,” Kirk had bargained, not even bothering to drink the flute of Risan wine a yeoman had given him.

“Fine,” McCoy had muttered into his Antarean brandy before taking a large gulp.

But then that bargain had flown out the airlock when a very happy Uhura had pulled Sulu and Riley onto the dance floor into a Deltan tango. Kirk and McCoy had looked at each other sharply, the same thought flitting through their mind.

Thank god Spock’s not here!

McCoy had spent the first two minutes of the dance staring in lascivious, fascinated horror, mainly trying to figure out how Uhura had hooked her leg over Riley’s shoulder when he’d been behind her, and then suddenly Kirk had whispered, “Oh, shit!” beside him.

Once McCoy had finally managed to drag his eyes away from Uhura, tugging on Sulu’s earlobe with her teeth, to the door, he’d followed up Kirk’s comment with one of his own.

“Aw, fuck!”

Sulu, entranced by the siren before him, had spun Uhura out with a grin, but she’d put too much weight into the move and twirled right into a newly arrived Spock’s chest. He’d held her close instinctively so she wouldn’t fall back; and even as Uhura had giggled, “Hi, Spock!” very loudly, his attention had remained on a Riley, McCoy would bet next year’s credits, who was relieved to be reassigned and a Sulu who wished he had been.

“Dance!” Uhura had cried; but before she could begin anew, Spock had tightened his hold even more and looked into her dazed eyes.

“Dr. McCoy, please help me take Lieutenant to sickbay.”

Except by “sickbay”, he’d meant Uhura’s quarters. They had made a brief detour to McCoy’s domain, just long enough for McCoy to pick up an anti-hangover injection, but by this time Uhura had been sagging against Spock, nuzzling her face into his chest and sliding her hands up and down his torso.

“Quickly, Doctor!” Spock had snapped roughly, and McCoy had suddenly been very glad the majority of the crew was on the Starbase instead of the ship.

A quick scent of her breath as he’d administered the antidote had told McCoy someone had slipped her some Romulan ale. For a person of Uhura’s small size and stature, McCoy had been surprised she hadn’t passed out right on the dance floor.

That she hadn’t been passed out then.

He’d gone with them to Uhura’s quarters, med kit in hand, just in case she’d experience a bad reaction. Yet, he didn’t say anything when Spock had turned green as Uhura’s fingers danced up his neck, cheeks, and ears while she sang “How Come U Don’t Call Me Anymore?” in a surprisingly pleasant voice despite her intoxication. However, he couldn’t help but cough when, after Uhura had asked him to kiss her, Spock had held the hands she’d pressing against his cheeks, dropped his forehead to hers, and said, “When I kiss you, Nyota, I want you in full command of your faculties so you may remember.”

Uhura had smiled and sighed before finally succumbing to oblivion.

Spock had taken off her boots, tucked her into bed, and given into stroking her cheek before straightening and putting his hands behind his back.

“Spock—”

“Please inform the captain I shall be in my quarters meditating should he require me.”

And with that, he’d left, McCoy raising an eyebrow at the fists burrowing into the small of his back. McCoy had gone a moment later after scanning Uhura to make sure she was all right.

“Well, darlin’, seems you got him shook up in a bad way…”

Which brought them to now, three days later with Spock only showing his face during bridge duty.

McCoy had noticed Uhura and Spock keeping their distance from each other, no doubt working through the awkward vestiges from that night; but the day before, Uhura had come into sickbay during one of her breaks, concerned about the first officer.

“His hand trembles on the viewer, Len, and his knee bounces—his knee never bounces! He clears his throat all the time, as if he’s thirsty, but I don’t ever see him in the mess hall. And he’s cancelled our lessons and…” She’d looked away then, her fingers tangling with each other.

McCoy had touched her shoulder gently. “And?”

“He won’t look at me. Oh, Len, did I make that much of a fool of myself?”

McCoy had squeezed her shoulder and shaken his head, promising he’d keep an eye out for Spock, although during his previous trips to the bridge he’d seen none of those things.

And yet, that morning’s trip to the bridge, he’d seen everything.

He’d given Uhura an acknowledging glance as he left, to which she’d given a relieved smile in return.

Later, during lunch break, McCoy went to see Spock in his quarters and wasn’t surprised when Spock waved off the questions he posed, but he wasn’t doing it very well. In fact, he was downright nonsensical some of the time. But, as always, it didn’t take McCoy long to reach the end of his rope with the first officer.

“Damn it, Spock! I know you’re Vulcan and can fix things on your own sometimes, but other times you can’t! People are worried about you! Hell, if it hadn’t been for Uhura—!”

“Please leave, Doctor.”

McCoy paused, shuddering at the sudden harsh chill that had entered Spock’s voice. Spock was green again, his hands trembling even as he clasped them between his bouncing knees, and his eyes were so dark they almost appeared black. McCoy stepped away from the Vulcan, but he didn’t leave.

“Just let me give you an exam, just a simple routine one—”

“Go away, Doctor.”

McCoy stood straight and yanked on his hands behind his back, glaring at the stubborn man. “Oh, no, if you think I’m gonna leave you alone when something’s obviously wrong with you, you’re mistaken! I do that and something happens to you, how do you think Jim will feel? He already lost one brother, he doesn’t need to lose another! And Uhura! That’ll break her heart—!”

Spock shot to his feet and got into McCoy’s face. “You will cease to pry into my personal matters, Doctor, or I shall certainly break your neck!”

McCoy quit the room with a little more speed and a little less dignity than he cared to admit.

He made Jim pull rank, which was something he should’ve done in the first place, and finally got that exam. However, Spock’s readings alarmed McCoy so much he ordered the nurses to give them privacy, looking pointedly at Chapel when she lingered too long. He didn’t have time to feel bad for misguided infatuations—something was seriously wrong with Spock and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

“I must return to Vulcan, Doctor,” Spock rasped, swallowing thickly.

“Clearly, ’cause I can’t do anything for you here!” McCoy said.

Spock swayed bit and closed his eyes. “I have tried meditation; but as you can see, it has not worked. Most unusual, as it has worked before.”

“You mean this isn’t the first time?”

Spock shook his head slowly. “Please do not tell—”

“The captain? You know I’ve got to—”

“No…”

McCoy raised his eyebrows. “Uhura? She’ll find out, Spock. She is the communications officer.”

Spock’s lips thinned. “I will be in my quarters until we reach Vulcan.”

To McCoy, it seemed as though the universe was conspiring against Spock, but the universe must have forgotten Jim Kirk was on the Vulcan’s side, and Jim would make a way. Disregarding Starfleet orders to go to Altair VI, Jim told the helm to plot a course to Vulcan, then called Uhura to open a channel to Spock’s home planet.

“Yes, sir,” her voice came clear and strong, though McCoy could detect the slight worry in it. The back and forth was obviously doing little to set her mind right.

Spock was waiting for them in front of his quarters when they went to retrieve him.

“Miss Chapel informed me of the news.”

McCoy ignored the reproachful look Kirk sent him; he’d talk to his head nurse after they found a cure for Spock’s illness.

Which was, apparently, to get laid.

By his wife.

It’d been as if Spock had wrenched the roof off the bridge when he’d revealed who T’Pring was, and it’d taken all of McCoy’s self-control not to look at Uhura or Chapel. Kirk had ushered them down to the transporter room quickly so that by the time everyone else had recovered from the shock, they’d already be on the planet.

Vulcan was hot as hell for a race of people who could be so cold. He’d take an outside wedding in Atlanta in the middle of July with no climate control, sweet iced tea, or lemonade compared to whatever this was. And if the battle sequence had been between anyone but Jim and Spock, maybe the ceremony would’ve made the high heat and thin air a mite more bearable.

McCoy’s blood pressure had been sky high by the time he got Jim back to the ship. He grumbled under his breath as he revived the captain; but considering the lively reaction Spock gave upon seeing a resurrected Jim a few minutes later, McCoy thought it payment enough.

But then a few days later, standing with Jim on the sidelines during the Altair VI Inauguration Ball, he saw Spock guide Uhura around the dance floor with an expression of supreme determination.

“Makes you glad we humans don’t have koon-ut-kal-if-fee, doesn’t it?” Jim asked, taking a drink of Altair water.

McCoy snorted and shook his head. “Damn straight. But Uhura wouldn’t challenge.”

“And even if she did, Spock wouldn’t lose.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow, his focus still on the dancing pair that seemed to be in a world of its own. “And you better be glad for that, Jim, because for one, T’Pau wouldn’t fall for it again. And for two, ain’t enough tri-ox or anything else in the world to bring you back from the ass-whoopin’ Spock would hand you!”

Kirk gave him an indignant look. “You really think that?!”

McCoy turned his attention back to the dance floor. He didn’t answer him. There was no need to do so.

If Spock could “kill” his best friend for a woman he didn’t want, McCoy didn’t want to think about what he’d do for a woman he did.










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