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I cannot get out of my head the idea of a Spindle's End/Star Trek fusion, with Spock as Rosie and Bones as Narl (because *Karl Urban*!) and Jim as Peony. OMG, it would be epic. I may have to write this.

FYI, if you do want to track updates for this and don't want to bother friending me, you can go here and track notifications for the tag "blue." :)

Blue (3/?). Spock/McCoy, Amanda, ensemble. All parts here.
"There you go, Bones," Jim said. "Fresh coffee! Every morning!" He beamed at Spock like Spock just pulled the sun out of his goddamn ass, and Spock looked smugly impassive back, and Bones sipped his fresh coffee and seethed.


III.


The coffee wasn't shit.

"Jim," Bones said, "why does the coffee taste like..." He frowned into his cup, wracking his fogged brain for a phrase slightly more sophisticated than not like crap.

Jim grinned at him. Jim, the bastard, was on his third cup. "Well, Bones," he said, "for that I think you'd have to thank you exemplary first officer. Isn't that right, Mr. Spock?"

Spock set down a bowl containing something that was almost but not quite entirely unlike soup. "That is correct, Captain. After you and Doctor McCoy bemoaned the absence of fresh coffee every morning for the past three-point-six standard weeks, I found a way to abort the beaming process so the energy pattern of the coffee remains in the transporter's computer banks and can be accessed at a later time. The solution is admittedly simple, but it is far less costly to ship energy than matter."

"There you go, Bones," Jim said. "Fresh coffee! Every morning!" He beamed at Spock like Spock just pulled the sun out of his goddamn ass, and Spock looked smugly impassive back, and Bones sipped his fresh coffee and seethed.

He didn't have any good reason to dislike Spock—except, wait, yeah, he did, because the Vulcan had dumped his best friend on a ball of ice and left him for dead, and maybe Spock'd pulled through in the end, and maybe his whole planet was gone, and Bones can sympathize with that, sure. Didn't change the fact that he'd watched Spock wrap those long, freakishly strong fingers around Jim's neck and try to choke the life out of him.

Bones didn't forgive as easily as his captain.

More than that—and Bones was the CMO of Starfleet's flagship, and a damned good headshrink besides—more than that, he distrusted Spock. Spock had divided loyalties; as Bones saw it, he wasn't only passively unstable but also constantly at war with himself. It would be easy to say that his human and Vulcan sides were conflicted, but that was overly simplistic—like saying he had a little human perched on one shoulder screaming about rage and love and pride, and a little Vulcan perched on the other calmly espousing the merits of logic. Bones knew it wasn't that simple, because Spock, like all beings, was a whole cloth; the problem was that Spock himself wasn't sure how that whole cloth fit into the fabric of the larger universe.

God, the coffee was good, though, fresh and piping hot—

"Thanks, Commander," Bones managed, and raised his mug over the table.

"Gratitude," Spock said. "Ah, yes. You humans feel a need to express thanks for a purely logical action. I believe the proper response is...'you're welcome.'"

Bones damn near launched his cup of piping hot coffee at the bastard's head.


next.
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September 2009

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