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amediaStory title: Teas and Sympathies (link to AO3)
Author: Amedia
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Rating: PG
Characters: Spock, McCoy, mention of Zarabeth, mention of Joanna
Pairing: Spock/McCoy (or "spones" as the kids say these days)
Summary: Other people seem to understand the feelings McCoy won't admit to himself.
Word Count: 810
Author's note: Prompt fill forderien, who requested, "Spock/Bones, Tea and Sympathy."
After the excitement and stress of Sarpeidon, McCoy wasn't sure he'd be able to fall asleep, but he drifted off almost as soon as he lay down. In his dream, Zarabeth came to him as he lay under the fur covering that Spock had placed over him. She carried an old-fashioned teapot in one hand and a pair of matching teacups in the other, which she set on a flat rock next to his bed.
"Some hot liquid will help you to warm up," she said in her low, melodic voice.
McCoy pushed himself up on one elbow and took the cup she handed him. It smelled like some kind of herbal concoction, and he took a hesitant sip. It wasn't bad, and certainly warming. "Thank you," he said.
Zarabeth gave him a sad smile. "I know that you will take Spock away from me," she said. "We are alike, you and I, in our regard for him."
McCoy considered denying what she said, but her calm certainty brooked no disagreement.
She continued, "He is seized by the moment, but his deepest feelings are not for me."
"You mean Jim," McCoy said, looking down into his cup.
She reached forward and tipped up his face by the chin. "Yes and no. He loves Jim dearly, as a brother. But he desires another. Can you not see it?" She reflected for a moment. "You did not see his face when he brought you in, believing that you were dying. He looked like a man grieving for a lost beloved. Trust me, I have seen that look before, and know it well. I have felt it myself."
She refilled his cup, picked up the teapot and her own cup, and walked away, leaving him with his own confused thoughts, which grew even blurrier as he gradually woke up.
Rubbing his eyes, McCoy looked at the clock, sighed, and went back to sleep. In the morning, that first dream was the only one he could remember.
The dream haunted him throughout the day. Finally, still hesitant, he invited Spock to stop by his quarters after their shifts ended in the evening. Spock raised an eyebrow and accepted.
For his most recent birthday, McCoy's daughter had sent him an old-fashioned teapot with matching cups, (which he realized was the basis for the set in his dream), a tea strainer, and a package of Lapsang Souchong, along with a note that said it was the closest thing she could find to Vulcan tea. The note had puzzled him at the time. Now he wondered whether Joanna had drawn an inference from his letters to her. If she had, he admitted to himself, she wasn't wrong.
By the time his door chime sounded, McCoy had managed to make a decent pot of tea. Spock entered; McCoy pointed him to a chair and handed him a cup. Spock inhaled the smoky aroma and, though he did not smile, McCoy had enough experience interpreting Spock's expressions that he could tell he was both surprised and pleased. "I recognize this as an Earth tea, but it is surprisingly close to a popular flavor of tea on Vulcan," he said. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness in serving it."
"Well, my daughter's the one you should appreciate," McCoy said, feeling awkward. "It was a gift from her."
Spock nodded. "Then I thank you for sharing her gift with me."
They both fell silent as they sipped their tea. McCoy finally said, "Mr. Spock, there's something I need to tell you. I hope it won't make things awkward between us, but that's a risk I need to take." He drew a deep breath. "I'm sure you could tell that I was jealous, back there on Sarpeidon. In Sarpeidon's past, I mean."
Spock gave the faintest of nods. McCoy continued, trying to frame his words precisely. "I'm just sayin' ... it probably wasn't what you think. I wasn't jealous of you for having Zarabeth." Spock's eyebrow twitched faintly, which McCoy interpreted as encouragement to continue speaking. He gathered his courage, and made the crucial statement. "I was jealous of Zarabeth for having you."
He waited for Spock's reaction. Spock seemed to be moving slowly, like a man underwater, as he set his teacup carefully down and stared at McCoy, his expression unreadable. Suddenly Spock rose to his feet, took two strides over to McCoy's chair, took both of McCoy's hands in his, and pulled him to a standing position. "If I understand you correctly," Spock said, his voice hoarse in a way that McCoy knew meant that he was struggling to control a powerful emotion, "you would not object to ... this." Spock leaned forward slightly, still holding McCoy's hands in his, and kissed him.
McCoy did his best to return the kiss in a way that said yes, Spock understood him very well indeed.
Author: Amedia
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Rating: PG
Characters: Spock, McCoy, mention of Zarabeth, mention of Joanna
Pairing: Spock/McCoy (or "spones" as the kids say these days)
Summary: Other people seem to understand the feelings McCoy won't admit to himself.
Word Count: 810
Author's note: Prompt fill for
derien, who requested, "Spock/Bones, Tea and Sympathy."After the excitement and stress of Sarpeidon, McCoy wasn't sure he'd be able to fall asleep, but he drifted off almost as soon as he lay down. In his dream, Zarabeth came to him as he lay under the fur covering that Spock had placed over him. She carried an old-fashioned teapot in one hand and a pair of matching teacups in the other, which she set on a flat rock next to his bed.
"Some hot liquid will help you to warm up," she said in her low, melodic voice.
McCoy pushed himself up on one elbow and took the cup she handed him. It smelled like some kind of herbal concoction, and he took a hesitant sip. It wasn't bad, and certainly warming. "Thank you," he said.
Zarabeth gave him a sad smile. "I know that you will take Spock away from me," she said. "We are alike, you and I, in our regard for him."
McCoy considered denying what she said, but her calm certainty brooked no disagreement.
She continued, "He is seized by the moment, but his deepest feelings are not for me."
"You mean Jim," McCoy said, looking down into his cup.
She reached forward and tipped up his face by the chin. "Yes and no. He loves Jim dearly, as a brother. But he desires another. Can you not see it?" She reflected for a moment. "You did not see his face when he brought you in, believing that you were dying. He looked like a man grieving for a lost beloved. Trust me, I have seen that look before, and know it well. I have felt it myself."
She refilled his cup, picked up the teapot and her own cup, and walked away, leaving him with his own confused thoughts, which grew even blurrier as he gradually woke up.
Rubbing his eyes, McCoy looked at the clock, sighed, and went back to sleep. In the morning, that first dream was the only one he could remember.
The dream haunted him throughout the day. Finally, still hesitant, he invited Spock to stop by his quarters after their shifts ended in the evening. Spock raised an eyebrow and accepted.
For his most recent birthday, McCoy's daughter had sent him an old-fashioned teapot with matching cups, (which he realized was the basis for the set in his dream), a tea strainer, and a package of Lapsang Souchong, along with a note that said it was the closest thing she could find to Vulcan tea. The note had puzzled him at the time. Now he wondered whether Joanna had drawn an inference from his letters to her. If she had, he admitted to himself, she wasn't wrong.
By the time his door chime sounded, McCoy had managed to make a decent pot of tea. Spock entered; McCoy pointed him to a chair and handed him a cup. Spock inhaled the smoky aroma and, though he did not smile, McCoy had enough experience interpreting Spock's expressions that he could tell he was both surprised and pleased. "I recognize this as an Earth tea, but it is surprisingly close to a popular flavor of tea on Vulcan," he said. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness in serving it."
"Well, my daughter's the one you should appreciate," McCoy said, feeling awkward. "It was a gift from her."
Spock nodded. "Then I thank you for sharing her gift with me."
They both fell silent as they sipped their tea. McCoy finally said, "Mr. Spock, there's something I need to tell you. I hope it won't make things awkward between us, but that's a risk I need to take." He drew a deep breath. "I'm sure you could tell that I was jealous, back there on Sarpeidon. In Sarpeidon's past, I mean."
Spock gave the faintest of nods. McCoy continued, trying to frame his words precisely. "I'm just sayin' ... it probably wasn't what you think. I wasn't jealous of you for having Zarabeth." Spock's eyebrow twitched faintly, which McCoy interpreted as encouragement to continue speaking. He gathered his courage, and made the crucial statement. "I was jealous of Zarabeth for having you."
He waited for Spock's reaction. Spock seemed to be moving slowly, like a man underwater, as he set his teacup carefully down and stared at McCoy, his expression unreadable. Suddenly Spock rose to his feet, took two strides over to McCoy's chair, took both of McCoy's hands in his, and pulled him to a standing position. "If I understand you correctly," Spock said, his voice hoarse in a way that McCoy knew meant that he was struggling to control a powerful emotion, "you would not object to ... this." Spock leaned forward slightly, still holding McCoy's hands in his, and kissed him.
McCoy did his best to return the kiss in a way that said yes, Spock understood him very well indeed.
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