The Mysterious Case of the Vulcan, the Doctor, and Some Tribble Be-Gone

Title: The Mysterious Case of the Vulcan, the Doctor, and some Tribble Be-Gone

by K.V. Wylie

Janet's Challenge: Spock upsets McCoy and has to apologize

Rating: PG (some swearing)

Disclaimer: This is non-profit, just for fun fanfic
I got this idea after remembering a post on a ST usenet group,
the gist of which was: "Did anyone notice in "City on the
Edge of Forever", Kirk and Spock had two beds in their room,
but one was covered with equipment?" (I wish I could remember
who pointed this out.)

The idea fermented after I read James Blish's adaptation of
the episode. At the end of his story, Spock takes Kirk to
Vulcan to heal.

This story takes place immediately after COTEOF, but I admit
to mangling canon timelines, especially with regard to
tribbles.


<<<>>>


The note was all Vulcan - concise, directly to the point, and
bare of explanation.

"The Captain and I are going to Vulcan."

The note popped up in Dr. McCoy's personal messages folder
along with an advertisement for Klingon Tribble Be-Gone. He
received the note before he knew Spock had left.

"What the hell...?" McCoy said to no one, and jumped when
Christine Chapel's voice sounded behind him.

"Someone was going to do that eventually, Len."

"Go to Vulcan?"

Christine tapped his computer screen. "Make a repellent.
Even since the big Tribble outbreak on Hypolaxis, the Klingons
will pay anything to get rid of those little animals. I heard
their last Prime Minister died in his mistress's bed from
Tribble asphyxiation."

"It wasn't the tribbles that did it," McCoy said distractedly.

"That's what Scotty told me."

"Before or after his evening scotch?"

Christine sighed at him. As she was leaving the room, McCoy
asked, "Did Spock and Jim sign out on your shift?"

She nodded. "A shuttle picked them up at oh three hundred.
Scotty has the con. The Captain didn't look well. Neither do
you, actually."

"I'm fine."

"It takes a long time for body tissue to get rid of
Cordrazine."

Turning his back on her, he muttered, "Excuse me, you're
talking to a doctor."

He heard something about nurses having the patience of saints
before the door closed. The truth was he didn't feel good,
but it had nothing to do with the Cordrazine.

Had he said something to make Spock leave? He didn't think
Spock would hold anything he'd said in the delirium of the
overdose against him. Was it after? Something during the
confusion on the street when he'd tried to rush to Edith
Keeler, but had been held back by Kirk's ferocious grip? Or
afterwards, when Spock was trying to explain while people
screamed and sirens burst against his eardrums...and Kirk was
turned away in silent anguish?

The day before the defective hypospray went off in McCoy's
hand, there'd been a singular development. Tensions had been
escalating between he and Spock for some months, for reasons
McCoy hadn't wanted to examine too closely. He'd been uneasy
around the Vulcan, and had had some curious thoughts, usually
late at night when he was alone in his cabin and trying to
sleep. Conversations with Spock would stay logged in his
brain. Images of those graceful ears or arched eyebrows would
dance in front of McCoy's eyes.

Physical arousal accompanied the unwanted thoughts. Normally,
McCoy would masturbate, but doing so with Spock in his head
was more than he could handle. Fantasies about men were one
thing, but fantasies concerning that irritating Vulcan were
far beyond McCoy's comfort zone.

The results were restless nights and annoyance with every word
coming out of that Vulcan's mouth. McCoy and Spock's
nitpicking arguments became so bad that even Kirk headed for
cover at the first sign of a storm cloud.

The events on Organia brought things to a head, in a couple of
ways. After Ayelborne put his foot down with Kor and Kirk,
and turned into a ball of light, he made one final stop before
becoming completely disembodied. In Sickway, where McCoy and
Spock had cleared a room with their tirade, Ayelborne popped
up between them and groused, "Enough is enough! You've given
everyone on the higher planes migraines with your incessant
arguing. Work it out or, by the gods, I'll make you both lice
on the backside of a Rigellian Hoar-Butt."

He popped away, leaving two stunned-into-silence men behind.
From what they knew of the Organians, it wasn't an empty
threat.

After a long time, McCoy whispered, "Do you think it's safe to
speak now?"

UnVulcanly, Spock asked, "Do you feel lucky?"

McCoy stared at him. "Was that an idiom?"

"What did you call me?"

"Om. Om! IdiOM!" McCoy emphasized. "Not--"

"Sssh," Spock told him. "It would be logical for us to
understand why we have so many...discussions."

McCoy sat down glumly. "I suppose you have a theory."

"I do. Our debates are a symptom of emotional disturbance."

"Spock, are you saying we're nuts?"

"Nuts?"

"Insane. If that's the best theory you have, then I sure hope
we like being lice."

Spock shook his head. "I am not speaking of insanity." But
he seemed unwilling to go on.

After a couple of minutes, McCoy glanced up. "Do you think
he's still listening to us?"

"I am sure our personal concerns are insignificant to the
Organians," Spock said. "It's the emotions."

"As you're so fond of telling me, Vulcans don't have
emotions."

"They do," Spock said softly. "The basis of Vulcan culture is
control. There are appropriate times and places for the
release of emotions; otherwise, they are to be managed."

"We debate because we, as in *both* of us, are having trouble
controlling our emotions?"

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and assumed a formal
stance. "Doctor, I think about you."

McCoy's stomach did a flip-flop. "When you're thinking about
me, you're not thinking about, say, sending me out a torpedo
chute without a space suit, are you?"

"I did once." He paused. "Twice."

McCoy edged his chair away from Spock. "And the other times?"

"Doctor, I have no wish to harm you."

"But these other thoughts didn't involve my, uh, demise, did
they?"

"No," Spock said. He gave McCoy an unreadable look. "Now it
is your turn."

"I think about..." McCoy shifted. "Look, I've been burned
already."

"Burned?"

"I'm leery about answering, all right?"

"No, it is not all right. Tell me."

McCoy looked away and said, "I think about you."

"Do you think about me at night when you are trying to rest?"

The Vulcan's low voice sent a throb through McCoy. In
frustration, he said, "How the hell did this happen?"

Spock pulled up a chair beside him and sat down. "Emotional
disturbance," he concluded, with the voice of a beleaguered
scientist who has finally proven his point.

"Damn Organians."

"I disagree with the sentiment."

"Of course. You always disagree with me. It's been the story
of my life on this ship."

"We could change the pattern. Change the basis of our
relationship."

"Are you saying there's a logical way to proceed?" McCoy asked
humorlessly. "Do you think we can sit here and dissect
everything down into little psycho-theoretical chunks?"

"We could change how we interact."

"Spock, I'm tired. Come to the point."

"As you wish," Spock said, and put his hand on McCoy's groin.

McCoy jumped and slammed his knee hard under his desk. In
real pain, he said, "For heaven's sakes, WARN someone when
you're going to do that."

"Do you wish me to leave?"

"No," McCoy swallowed. "I don't know how it is for Vulcans,
but humans need some lead in."

"Should I touch your ankle first?" Spock asked, not expecting
an answer. "These considerations are much easier on Vulcan."

"Do people just jump into bed there?"

"Jump?" Spock echoed. "I meant, once we have decided on a
course of action, we engage on it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"I, uh, can see the benefits of that."

Spock stroked McCoy's fingers. "Leonard, let us take each
other to bed."

Which they did.

The accident with the hypospray came the next day, and then
everything with the Guardian. Too much had happened too
quickly, and now McCoy couldn't even get hold of Spock to talk
to him about it.

And *what* was Spock doing on Vulcan with the Captain?

McCoy went to the bridge. Despite having command, Scotty
wasn't there and McCoy had to track him through the lairs of
engineering. He found the Scotsman happily wedged between an
access hatch and a toolbox the size of a shuttle. McCoy could
just see the top of Scotty's head.

"Is something wrong?" McCoy asked. There seemed to be a lot
of equipment lying in pieces on the floor.

"Nae, Leonard. Just giving my wee bairns a spank and a
tickle." So saying, Scotty picked up a crescent wrench bigger
than his arm and proceeded up the hatch.

"I wanted to ask you something," McCoy said, having to shout
over the sounds of metallic banging which had followed
Scotty's ascent.

"Go ahead then," Scotty replied.

McCoy paused as a crewman walked by. "It's private."

"What?"

"It's private!"

"I didnae hear ye."

The crewman stuck his head up beside Scotty's legs and yelled,
"DR. MCCOY SAYS IT'S PRIVATE!" At the shout, three other crew
members popped their heads around the corridor to see what was
going on.

"Tell him to come on up!"

The crewman turned to McCoy. "He says to--"

"I heard him," McCoy said quickly. He scaled the toolbox,
eyed the cramped interior of the tube, and had second
thoughts, however there were too many people still within
earshot. Taking a breath, he crawled in and inched up.

It was a horrible squeeze. The tube was meant for one-person
access, and Scotty had his wrench in there as well. McCoy's
nose ended up a bare half inch from the other man's. Other
parts were pressed tighter than clamshells.

"What dae ye want, Leonard?" Scotty asked casually, his
attention on some wiring.

McCoy glanced around. "I don't know why we don't turn this
tube into crew quarters. I could put a nice ottoman over
there."

"Hold this," Scotty said, and handed him a bolt. "Don't drop
it."

"Drop it? A mosquito couldn't get between us," McCoy mumbled.
"When Spock and Jim left, did they say anything to you?"

"Aye. They said goodbye."

"Nothing else? Did they say when they'd be coming back?"

Scotty shifted to reach a knob. The action pulled McCoy's
elbow along with him. "No, Leonard."

"I just wondered if Spock might have said anything."

"About what? Och, be careful! Don't touch that cable."

"What one?" McCoy could see cables out of the corner of his
eye, but didn't have enough room to turn his head for a better
look.

Scotty gave him a wire. "Don't let this touch the green
cable."

"Green one? What green one? I see an orange one."

"Do ye still have that bolt?"

"It's somewhere..." McCoy tried to look down without moving
the hand holding the cable.

"I see it." Scotty fished down between them. "Is that all ye
want to ask?"

McCoy held his breath until Scotty found his bolt. "I guess
so."

The Scotsman flashed him a look. "Leonard, I've known ye for
many years now. Suppose ye tell me what this is all about?"

"We're not in the best position for this," McCoy said
miserably, hoping but unable to tell if the cable he was
holding was still away from the green or orange one.

Scotty relieved him of the wires. "Och, ye stubborn man."

"Spock and I...we...you know," McCoy said. "Though we didn't
get as close as--" He tried to move his leg and couldn't.
"--as this!"

"The two of you did what?"

McCoy whispered in Scotty's ear, feeling horribly awkward.

"You don't say!" Scotty said. "Congratulations."

"Congratulations?"

"Ye have been alone a long time, Leonard."

McCoy eyed him. "And this doesn't surprise you at all?"

Scotty tried to shrug. "Nae. If that's what ye like, then
that's what ye like. So, what's the problem?"

"The problem is that he took off with the Captain without
saying anything to me."

"I see," Scotty said. "But Leonard, there's naught goin' on
between them. The Captain has a fair way with the lassies.
Would ye hand me my socket driver? It's on my belt at the
back."

McCoy braced one hand on Scotty's shoulder while groping
cautiously with the other. "What does it feel like?"

"It's a mite smaller than what you're holding right now."

"Sorry." McCoy said. "Is it this?"

"No. Leonard, it's on my *belt*," he emphasized.

McCoy managed to locate and shimmy the tool into Scotty's
hand.

As Scotty replaced a panel, he said, "Leonard, doan ye worry.
If something were to be between Mr. Spock and the Captain, it
would have happened by now." He let the crescent wrench slide
out of the shaft, which freed up some room between them.

"When I was in earth's past in the Mission house, I saw Jim
and Spock's room. There were two beds, but one was covered
with machinery and wires."

"That would be a begging sight," Scotty said in sympathy.
"Did ye ask Mr. Spock about it?"

"I didn't have a chance, and now they've taken off together."

"Ye could send a message. They would likely be at Ambassador
Sarek's."

"No," McCoy told him. "I will not demean myself by being
clingy." To prove his point, he let go of Scotty's shoulder,
and abruptly dropped two feet down the shaft.

Wincing, he probed his back where it felt as though he'd lost
several layers of skin.

Scotty looked down. "While you're there, would ye hand me
my--?"

"No!" McCoy retorted, though the effect was muffled by his
face being in the Scotchman's stomach. "Suck in so I can get
out."

Scotty obliged. After McCoy cleared the rest of the shaft, he
stood slowly and said, "I'm putting you on a diet."

"Och, this is what I get for being supportive."

McCoy looked up at him. "Sorry. Thank you, Scotty, but it
doesn't help. I saw their room. He should have said
something before he left."

"Aye," Scotty agreed.

McCoy left him to his repairs and returned to Sickbay where,
over the next weeks, he became known as Doc Crankypants. No
messages came from Vulcan and McCoy now believed one night was
all Spock had wanted. Even Christine, who was not normally
impressed by his moods, left him alone.
 
<<<>>>


It was the evening of the ship's annual masquerade when the
Captain and First Officer returned. The masquerade celebrated
the anniversary of the first contact between Earthlings and
Vulcans. Because of that, many crewmembers dressed as
Vulcans, complete with pointed ears, folk costume, and masks.

The party had taken Spock aback the first time he'd seen it.
Vulcans didn't celebrate such events, and Kirk had had to
practically order Spock to attend. The other costumes were so
vivid that the evening turned into a game of
Find-The-Real-Vulcan. The winner was rumoured, though never
confirmed, to be Uhura who had left the party smiling like a
cat with feathers in her mouth.

The party was well underway by the time McCoy heard that Spock
was back. He was at the bar drinking replicated alcohol when
Scotty, in full kilt and half in the bag himself, came up to
him and said, "Mr. Spock's here, Leonard."

McCoy looked around at the plethora of masked 'Vulcans'. "How
can you tell?"

"He just spoke to me. The Captain's on the bridge."

"And is he going back up there?" McCoy muttered.

"Nae. Mr. Spock's here looking for ye, so he told me," Scotty
replied. "He has a black mask with feathers."

"That narrows it down," McCoy sighed, as a line of people in
similar headgear went by him. "Anyway, I don't give a flying
Ferengi's ass if he is here."

"Stubborn," Scotty warned as he downed a glass. Then he
scowled and asked loudly, "Whose Still is this concoction
from? Lieutenant Braden? My grandmother was making better
when ye were still at yer mother's teat." He burrowed into
the crowd in search of the now-hiding Lieutenant.

McCoy leaned against the wall, nursing his drink. Most of the
crew had chosen to dress as Vulcans again this year, and the
lines of pointed ears going by were unsettling when he was
trying to avoid a certain pointy-eared someone.

The doctor was getting ready to sneak out when a Vulcan in a
blue shirt and black eye mask touched his arm and said,
"Leonard."

McCoy yanked his arm free. "Stay away from me," he said
angrily.

"I only wanted to ask you what you thought of this," said the
Vulcan. He lifted up his mask to reveal a surprised Sulu.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else." McCoy glanced
at the container in Sulu's hand. "What's that?"

"Tribble Be-Gone," Sulu said. "Chekov wants me to go in on a
shipment with him. He says there's money in it. Do you think
this stuff really works?"

"The Klingons haven't discovered anything yet that works, and
they've been quite diligent." McCoy pressed the spray top.
Blue, highly-perfumed foam splattered out.

He took an involuntary step backwards. "I can tell you that
the smell alone would keep *me* away."

"It is strong," Sulu agreed. "The weird thing is, the crew
have been buying them like crazy from Chekov."

"Our crew?" McCoy blinked. "But there aren't any tribbles on
board ship."

"I know. I don't understand it. That's why I thought I'd ask
you."

McCoy took the container, gingerly avoiding the spray button.
"I'll take it to the lab and see what's in it."

"Thanks, doc," Sulu said. "By the way, who did you think I
was?"

"Pardon?"

"When I first came up to you, and you told me to leave you
alone."

McCoy shook his head. "No one."

"Are you and Commander Spock having another of your famous
feuds?" Sulu asked.

"No," McCoy said quickly, hoping the Organians weren't
listening in. "Absolutely not. I haven't even seen him this
evening, and I don't care to. Not that there's any problem,
because there isn't. I'm just extremely busy and I need to go
do...something."

"Uh huh," Sulu said with a roll of his eyes. "Did you know
there's a rumour going around about you and him?"

McCoy was generally up on all ship's gossip, and he eyed Sulu
as if he thought the latter was playing a joke on him. "I've
heard nothing, because there's, uh, nothing to talk about
except that he's, well, really annoying."

"Chekov heard it from Yeoman Chang whose roommate's cousin is
dating one of the engineering techs." Sulu lowered his voice.
"The rumour is that you and Mr. Spock are sleeping together."

McCoy threatened Sulu with the Tribble Be-Gone. "He's been on
Vulcan. I've been here. It's not physically possible. And
which tech is spreading this--?"

Sulu stepped back quickly, though McCoy's
he-doth-protest-too-much-protest had clinched it for him.
"I'm just letting you in on the grapevine. There was a pool
going as to who would get the Vulcan nuggets. The Captain was
the heavy favorite."

"My God." McCoy stared at him. "People were *betting*? And
no one gave me a chance to go in?"

"As if we'd let you put money down now," Sulu said. "If I see
Mr. Spock, do you want me to tell him where you are?"

"If you see that Vulcan, you can tell him to avoid Sickbay or
he might end up with a large scanner up his chassis."

Sulu lowered his mask to hide a smile, and returned to the
festivities.

"Of all the..." McCoy muttered. He looked for his drink which
appeared to have wandered off. A few minutes later, a
sleek-looking Vulcan with petite, pointed ears came up to him.

"I lost ten credits because of you."

McCoy took a deep breath. "Look, whoever you are--"

Uhura lifted her mask. "Sulu just confirmed that you got the
Vulcan booty. I had ten credits on the Captain."

"Sulu!" McCoy yelled angrily.

"Leonard, it was already going around the ship," Uhura said.
"Sulu didn't start it. Anyway, he says that you and Mr. Spock
are having a fight. Are you ok? Do you want to talk about
it?"

In a dangerously low voice, McCoy said, "*When* have I ever,
in all the time you've known me, asked for any help whatsoever
with personal concerns? Hmm?"

"We love you, and we all know now."

"We?" McCoy echoed.

"Christine and the bridge crew and Dr. M'Benga..."

"Geoff knows too?"

Uhura patted his arm. "We're happy for you, except that none
of us bet on you in the pool."

"Why don't you go find Spock and be happy for him for a
while?" McCoy studied her. "Why is your tongue blue?"

"I'm not telling," Uhura said, with a mischievous grin. "If I
see Mr. Spock, I'll tell him that you--"

"DON'T even go there," McCoy cut in.

"Yeah, yeah," she murmured, and gave him a kiss on the cheek
before slipping back into the party.

"...damn...pain in the..." he mumbled as he tried to make his
way through the throng.

A tall, thin Vulcan grabbed his sleeve.

"If you don't want to undergo a very invasive medical
procedure, you will release my arm," McCoy said.

"It's me, Len." Christine lifted up her mask. "I just wanted
to give you and Mr. Spock my best."

Guilt washed over McCoy. Christine had deep feelings for
Spock, and having heard the news through the grapevine, rather
than from him, was unfair.

"I'm sorry, Chris," McCoy tried, but she interrupted him with
a hug.

"You're a caring and decent man, Len. Don't let him forget
it. I know that, at the moment, the two of you are going
through a bad patch..."

McCoy eyed her uncertainly. "What, exactly, have *you* heard?
And why are your fingers blue?"

"No reason," she said hurriedly, putting her hands behind her
back. "Chekov told me that you and Mr. Spock were having
problems in the--" She dropped her voice. "Bedroom."

McCoy felt the beginnings of a monster migraine. "Chris, I
haven't spoken to Spock since he left six weeks ago. I don't
mean that to sound as though I'm deliberately not speaking to
him. I just haven't seen him."

"But you are angry with him. You've been upset since he
left."

He couldn't deny that, especially to someone who worked with
him every day. "Don't worry about me, and will you tell
Chekov to shut up?"

"It's not just him, Len. Everybody's talking about you." She
pulled her mask back down and rejoined the celebration,
leaving McCoy wishing he could hide on a distant planet for
the next ten years.

He tried to leave once more, but another Vulcan stepped in his
path.

This one was short.

McCoy tried to make out the features behind the feathered
eye-piece. "Chekov?"

The navigator removed his mask glumly. "What gave it away?"

McCoy grabbed his collar. "Do you know what I'm willing to do
to you right now, even if it means losing my rank? And why is
the skin around your mouth blue?"

Chekov jerked away with real trepidation. The doctor might be
slender, but he wasn't a weakling. "I just want to wish you
and Mr. Spock well."

"Stuff it," McCoy retorted. "I heard what you've been saying
about me, about having problems in the bedroom..."

"No, Ensign Connors said that, but she heard it from someone
in Engineering. I've been telling people I didn't think it
was true," Chekov said. "You can ask Dr. M'Benga. He was
there. Anyway, he said erectile dysfunction is very
treatable."

The headache began pounding at McCoy's temples. "This is the
most embarrassed I've ever been in my life."

"Mr. Spock shouldn't be mad at you about it. But don't tell
him I said that. He's my commanding officer."

"He's not...I'M not..." McCoy spluttered. "For God's sakes,
everything works fine! I fathered a daughter, didn't I???"

At the outburst, party-goers around them silenced and looked
over.

"Yes, you ALL heard me!" McCoy told them.

A voice at the back asked, "So it's Mr. Spock who can't raise
the tentpole?"

McCoy turned back to Chekov. "Why the hell is your mouth
blue?"

"N-no reason," Chekov stuttered, and vamoosed back into the
crowd.

The glare on McCoy's face gave him an unimpeded aisle to the
door. Everyone moved aside.

Once in the hall, he debated going to his quarters, decided
that Spock would only look for him there, and went to one of
the less-used labs in the rear of Sickbay.

Spock found him as he was running an analysis on the Tribble
Be-Gone. After removing his mask, Spock stood uncertainly in
the doorway. "Leonard, I've been looking for you all evening.
I heard some distressing talk."

McCoy turned his back on the Vulcan and bent over an electron
microscope.

"Are you angry with me?" Spock asked.

"I was six weeks ago, but it's gotten much worse since then."

"Why?" Spock asked.

"Why?" McCoy whirled around. "WHY? You have to ask? You're
the damn mind-reader."

"That's not strictly true," Spock tried.

"Leave me alone, Spock."

"Leonard, I thought we were partners."

"Partners? YOU took off with Jim, doing God knows what."

"I took him to Vulcan. I left you a note."

"Some note. And you took him to Vulcan, because...?"

The fury behind the low, tightly-clipped words literally threw
Spock off-balance. Putting his back against the wall, he said
carefully, "Jim was grieving over Edith Keeler. Vulcan can
be," he paused. "Peaceful."

"Especially with you there to make it so."

"Such was my intention when I accompanied him."

"Spare me the details of where and how often you relaxed him."

The concept of double-meaning was still new to Spock. It took
him a minute to work through what the doctor had said.

"You think that the Captain and I have engaged in sexual
activity? Leonard, no. I have committed myself solely to
you."

"You failed to mention that tiny detail before you left,"
McCoy retorted. "I have a reason why it's hard for me to
believe you."

"Which is?"

"In Miss Keeler's Mission, you and Jim shared a room."

"Yes."

"Spock, I *saw* the room. There were two beds and one was
covered with junk." McCoy crossed his arms defensively over
his chest. "Where did you sleep?"

"On the second bed."

"Where did the Captain sleep?"

"On the second bed."

"You see where I'm going on this?"

The microscope beeped. The doctor turned his attention to it,
which put his back to the Vulcan.

Spock took a few steps towards McCoy. "Leonard, I understand.
The appearance is bad."

"It was quite the appearance...the sight of that room and then
the two of you taking off to Vulcan together. It hurt,
Spock."

"I did not mean to hurt you, and I apologize. Leonard, you
are not second choice to the Captain, nor are he and I
intimate. We never have been. We did not share the bed in
the Mission. We took turns."

McCoy didn't answer.

"Leonard," Spock tried again. "For me, there is only you."
He closed the distance between them, but McCoy still wouldn't
look at him. "You told me that you had been 'burned'. I have
been also, though for a different reason. When I entered
Starfleet, I served under Captain Christopher Pike. I served
under him for eleven standard years."

Quietly, McCoy asked, "Where you and he--?"

"No. You are the second male I have been with, but the first
was a Vulcan, and it was..." Spock fished for a word.
"Exploration." He paused. "Captain Pike grew very tired near
the end. He felt too deeply. In the eleventh year that I
knew him, he took a woman and married her. She was a crew
member. She died under his command. It was her death or the
death of many others. Captain Pike resigned. He could not
return to a command, and I was not able to help him."

McCoy finally looked over. "That poor man."

"Jim is much like him. When Miss Keeler died, I could not
stand by again and do nothing."

McCoy laid his hand on Spock's. "I wish I'd known."

"You are correct, Leonard. I should have left a better note,"
Spock said. "Now I have something to ask you. At the
masquerade, I overheard some talk."

"Talk? It's a wonder the hulls haven't melted down there.
What did you hear?"

Spock looked pained. "I am unable to perform adequate sexual
functions, and you and Mr. Scott were intimate in an access
tube."

McCoy's eyebrows lifted. "Me and Scotty? Holy shit, Spock.
No! I admit I was in a tube with him because I wanted to talk
to him without all his people listening."

"The two of you were in a tube together?"

"I guess the appearance of that is pretty bad as well."

Spock's eyes sparkled humorously. "Leonard, stay out of
access tubes."

"Gladly."

"I need to ask you something else. Why do so many of the crew
have blue marks on their skin?"

"Have you heard of Tribble Be-Gone?" McCoy gave the container
to Spock who looked at it dubiously.

"I saw an advertisement. We do not have any tribbles on
board."

"That's not why the crew's buying them. I ran a spectrum on
the ingredients. It contains glycerin, wheat protein, blue
dye, starch to make it sticky, and a few lesser chemicals that
make it smell like flowers. And--" McCoy couldn't keep from
smiling. "Testosterone. It's chock full of it."

Spock squirted out a small dab of the foam and rubbed it
between his fingers. "It tingles."

"Put it on the right spot and it'll make you horny as hell."

Their eyes met.

Spock spoke first. "The blue dye is a concern."

"It would fade in a day or two, and if the dye was in a place
we'd normally keep covered up..." McCoy watched an intrigued
Vulcan eyebrow slowly rise.

"Perhaps you and I should go somewhere more private," Spock
suggested. He kissed the doctor, then picked up the Tribble
Be-Gone and led McCoy out the door.

Spock was late reporting to the bridge the next morning. Kirk
went looking for him and found him and McCoy in the latter's
office.

"You are planning on working today, aren't you, Spock?" Kirk
asked. It was the first time the Vulcan had not been punctual
and, after hearing the latest ship's gossip, Kirk was having a
hard time keeping a straight face.

"I will attend to my duties right away," Spock said.

"Before you do, would you care to tell me why you're late?"

"Medical reasons," McCoy said.

"I bet," Kirk said. "If either of you are interested, the
winner has been declared in the pool."

"What pool?" McCoy asked innocently.

"As if you aren't the worst offender for shipboard gambling,
Bones," Kirk told him. "You know which pool." He eyed the
hedging men before him.

At last, McCoy asked, "Who won?"

"Admiral Nogura." Kirk had to bite the inside of his cheek to
keep from laughing at the expression that went across the
doctor's face. Even the Vulcan cool ruffled.

"Nogura bet on me?" McCoy asked, stunned.

"It's the first time I've ever seen the Old Man so happy,"
Kirk said. "He called this morning, wanting his money. It
paid out thirty to one."

McCoy buried his face in his hands. "Nogura knows? Dear God,
that means soon the whole Fleet will know."

Unable to stop himself, Kirk started to laugh. When he was
able to catch his breath, he said, "I'm happy for you both,
especially if it means the two of you will be fighting less."
He favoured them each with a Captain's glare. "You *are*
going to be fighting less?"

"Absolutely," Spock said as McCoy chimed in with, "Of course."

Then, warmly, Kirk said, "I do mean it. You have my support.
And Spock, I'd appreciate it if you'd report to the bridge
sometime before the morning's out."

"Yes, Captain."

Kirk turned to the door, but paused and turned back with a
curious look. "By the way, why do you both have blue
tongues?"


(end)

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