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The two of them were in their shared lab. Most of their off-duty hours were spent here, but their off-duty hours didn't often overlap. Today just happened to be a day when they did.
The heavy silence was suddenly filled with Spock's calm tone. "Doctor, there is a simplistic solution to the equation you are pondering."
“Aw, hell. Was I thinking out loud again?” It was something Spock had complained about before, and McCoy didn't blame him. He also preferred silence while he worked, and didn't intentionally mumble as he worked.
“On the contrary, Doctor. You were being abnormally quiet.”
“Then how-”
“I saw the problem when you accidentally brushed my hand a moment ago.”
“You... stay out of my head, Spock.”
“I can assure you, Doctor, it was not done intentionally.”
McCoy grumbled and the two of them fell back into silence.
Five minutes passed before McCoy swallowed his pride and asked, “A simplistic solution, huh?”
“Allow me to show you.”
1.
Dozens of crew members had fallen ill to an unknown virus. McCoy had been struggling over the last three days to find a cure. Spock had just walked into the med bay, surely to acquire an update on the current situation. He stood as awkwardly as a Vulcan was capable of being as the chaos of the room continued around him. McCoy brushed passed him as he frantically continued his care of the sick crew members, ignoring Spock's presence; the situation hadn't changed since his last update the day before.
“I believe I know what the compound is missing, Doctor,” Spock said, unprompted. He outstretched his arm towards McCoy. “If you would show me again.”
It dawned on McCoy that his hand had brushed Spock's as he'd passed him. He'd all but forgotten about the time before when he'd accidentally communicated with Spock this way. He'd felt a little weird about, but at Spock's quirked brow he reached forward and touched Spock's hand again.
They spent the next two days communicating this way as they constructed a cure; Chapel scurrying away every time she encountered them. It had been an unbearably stressful time, but, for once, Spock hadn't added to his stress, but alleviated it. Maybe there was something to this telepathy thing.
2.
Touching Spock became the default any time McCoy needed help with a medical problem that eluded him. He found that they actually worked well together when he didn't have to communicate with him verbally.
The two of them started spending a lot of time together in their shared lab, working on their respective projects, but, when he got stuck, McCoy would casually brush Spock's hand. And Spock, surprisingly, always seemed more than willing to offer his help.
Scotty occasionally used the lab too if he was working on a new tool for engineering, but neither of them had seen head or tail of him after he had strolled in a week ago to find them standing by a microscope, hand-in-hand.
McCoy hadn't thought much of it; Scotty was a bit of an odd one, and that was being kind.
3.
McCoy stood next to Spock in front of the captain's chair where Jim sat. Jim had been prattling on for the last five minutes, McCoy fighting the urge to roll his eyes the entire time. Spock didn't seem impressed either.
Without a second thought McCoy shifted his weight to his left leg, the side that Spock was on, and allowed his hand to brush against Spock's.
One hypo and he'll be out for the next twenty hours.
Spock looked at the captain, considering.
Someone cleared their throat behind them and McCoy broke contact with Spock in order to look over his shoulder.
“If I could have a moment of your time, Captain,” Sulu said while staring at Spock and McCoy.
McCoy raised a brow at Sulu's judgmental look, but he wasn't going to question it. Sulu had just saved him from what probably would have been another twenty minutes of Jim's nonsense.
McCoy brushed Spock's hand as he passed by on his way to the turbolift.
I think we owe Sulu a drink.
Spock raised a brow in agreement.
4.
Spock was sitting at his station. Without a word, McCoy walked up behind Spock and placed his hand on the side of his neck, his back blocking the action from the rest of the bridge. He heard a gasp from the ensign at the station beside them. Well, maybe not the whole bridge.
"An interesting quandary, doctor. I will seek you out when I reach a solution."
"Thanks, Spock."
When he turned to leave he saw Jim giving him a look from the captain's seat.
“What?”
"When did you two start dating?"
"Oh, shove it, Jim. Just cause we're being civil for once," McCoy grumbled.
5.
They were two hours into what would probably be a four hour meeting, the sole purpose of which was to rehash everything that had happened in the last mouth. McCoy's need to bitch was becoming an itch under his skin. He glanced over at Spock, who was sitting beside him. He glanced down to where his hands were resting on the table, then back up at his face. He reached over and touched the back of Spock's hand with the tips of his fingers.
Who decided this was a worth while way to spend our time? I need a name, so I can make them disappear before they come up with another great idea.
Spock titled his head far enough in McCoy's direction for him to be able to see his eyebrow raise of agreement. Leonard smiled and removed his hand. For the remainder of the meeting Leonard would periodically reach over and give Spock his two cents. It had made the pointless meeting almost bearable.
As soon as the meeting was called to a close McCoy had dashed for the nearest door and into a turbolift. Nobody was going to make him stay in that room for a minute longer. Just as the doors were beginning to close, Uhura side-stepped her way through the opening. He didn't blame her; there was always a chance that someone would realize we had failed to recount an important five minutes that had occurred last Tuesday and extend the meeting another three hours.
The doors closed and they stood in silence.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Her outburst seemed to come from no where. He glanced over at her, thinking that she must somehow be talking to someone other than McCoy, but she was glaring right at him.
“I wasn't aware I was doing anything other than breathing, Lieutenant.”
“You were touching Spock in front of everyone!” she said, apparently by way of explanation.
“I- It was just his hand, don't make it sound dirty.”
The storm that had been Uhura suddenly calmed. “Oh my god, you don't know.”
“Know what?”
“Finger-touching.”
“Finger-touching?”
“Give me your hand.” Leonard reached out towards Uhura. She then held up her own hand, extending her first two fingers. She gave Leonard a look, implying he should do the same. She then touched her two fingers to McCoy's.
“Finger-touching,” she explained. “A Vulcan ritual of affection. “
McCoy's face blanched.
“Or foreplay,” she added, rather unhelpfully McCoy thought. He snatched his hand back.
“Why the hell didn't he say anything?” McCoy shouted.
“Well, it's not like he would call you out in the middle of a meeting.”
“But I-” McCoy was not blushing. “It's not the first time I've done it.”
Uhura's eyes widened. “Why the hell are you touching him in the first place?”
“I'm- I'm talking to him.”
“You're what?”
“I found out by accident that I could talk to him that way. And- Well, hell, I don't know! He doesn't drive me up the damn wall when I talk to him this way.”
Silence.
“You were basically making out with him in front of the entire command crew.”
“You can shut up now.”
McCoy found Spock in the lab fifteen minutes later. He definitely hadn't been pacing outside the door for the last five. He finally walked through the door, Spock looked up.
“Doctor.”
“Spock.”
Spock raised an eyebrow in response to McCoy's silence.
“Shit, I don't know how to say this.”
“Words are unnecessary, Doctor.”
“That's sort of part of the problem,” McCoy blurted.
“Uhura informed you of the ritual of finger-touching.”
“Shit, Spock. Why the hell didn't you say anything? I never woulda done it in front of everyone if I'd known- I'm sorry.”
“There is no need to apologize, Doctor. I did not mention the ritual to you because the significance of the gesture lies in what the individuals choose to share with one another, not in the gesture itself.”
“I knew there must be more to it than Uhura was sayin'. It's not like you'd be too embarrassed to tell me to stop.”
“Indeed, Doctor. If your touch was unwelcome I would make it clear to you.”
+1.
McCoy had continued touching Spock whenever he needed help with a problem or had a quip that he couldn't say out loud. It had been a week since that dreadful meeting and McCoy was on his way to the lab. He looked ahead of him and recognized Uhura's back as she walked at a brisk pace away from him. He quirked a brow, curious. She suddenly spun on her heel and entered a room. Someone was in trouble, McCoy thought before he reached the door himself and realized, Oh, no. I'm in trouble. She had entered the lab.
He stayed where he was in the doorway, Uhura's back still facing him.
“What did you say to McCoy?”
“Lieutenant?” Spock questioned. Oh, good. It wasn't McCoy who was in trouble this time. Wait, what had she said?
“I explained to him the significance of finger-touching. So what did you say to confuse him?”
“I simply explained that the significance lies in what is shared. His touch is not unwelcome.”
She made a sort of chocking sound before spinning around to dash out of the room. McCoy could see the flush to her cheeks as she passed him, which only grew as she spared him a glance.
McCoy stepped into the lab, the door closing behind him. “What in the world was that about? Her face was redder than a barn as she dashed outta here.”
“Her knowledge of the ritual is based solely on both participants being Vulcan.”
“Why is that different?” McCoy asked.
“When both participants are Vulcan, the connection goes both ways.”
McCoy thought about this for a moment. If they were both Vulcan, neither of them would need words to communicate with one another. The idea had a certain appeal. “Well, that doesn't seem fair, does it? You being the only one that can read minds around here.”
Spock quirked a brow, a hint of surprise actually visible on his face. “You wish to connect to me psychically?”
“Well... it would be nice, don't cha think, to not need words?”
Spock seemed to think about this for a moment. “It is possible, for me to share my thoughts with you as you do with me.”
“Really?”
“It is... not normally done with outsiders.”
“But it can be?”
A beat of silence. “Yes.”
“Well?” McCoy asked, expectant.
“You really wish for me to connect with you in such an intimate way?”
Intimate. The word bounced around in McCoy's head. But hadn't Spock said that the gesture wasn't intimate that it was in what was shared... The touch isn't the part that is intimate, McCoy realized, it is the sharing of thoughts that is. McCoy felt his face turn the same matching shade of scarlet that Uhura's had been; Spock had never actually said that what they were doing wasn't intimate.
“I-” McCoy was at a loss for words. He had liked the friendship that had developed between himself and Spock. The closeness. The... intimacy.
In an instant, Spock was within reach, trailing his fingers along McCoy's temple. “A mind-meld is not an act to be taken lightly.”
At the touch, McCoy felt weightless; a little like he was going to throw up but also... Oh. He still wanted to hear Spock's thoughts.
The thought, the feeling, the intention and meaning behind it...
It rang clear in both of their minds in the same instant.
Spock leaned in closer and McCoy felt himself be pulled in. And, suddenly, the connection was two-sided. McCoy finally understood what Spock must have known from that first accidental touch...
They were always going to end up here.