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McCoy could hardly believe his eyes when he left his office- work was never ending on the Enterprise- and found Spock sitting on one of the beds in the sickbay, eyes closed until McCoy took another shuffling step towards him and they leisurely blinked open. For anything but a life threatening injury acquired on an away mission, it was a tooth and nail fight to get Spock anywhere near sickbay, and the doctor was both irritated and concerned by Spock’s presence. Irritated that the hobgoblin had not seen fit to announce his arrival, and concerned because to his knowledge, Spock had been out on shore leave, which was close enough to an away mission…
“Good evening, Doctor McCoy.” Spock certainly didn’t sound injured, but one could never know with him, or Jim for that matter, goddamn martyrs. He pulled out the tricorder and scanner, and rushed forwards, scanning Spock up, down, and sideways, but couldn’t find any signs of damage. Spock, for his part, did nothing to encourage nor dissuade the doctors actions, simply sitting primly on the biobed until McCoy nodded, satisfied by the fact that one of the senior officers was not, for once, actively dying in his sickbay. “I am unharmed.” The Vulcan finally saw fit to add, sitting up a little straighter and started to slide off the biobed, though he stopped when Leonard held up a hand.
“If you’re unharmed, then what in God’s green earth are you doing in my sickbay? In case it slipped your mind, Commander, the sickbay is for crewmembers who are harmed!” Spock took several moments to reply, and McCoy could feel the rage bubbling under his skin- where did Spock get off avoiding sickbay- and his physicals!- until he suddenly, what? Needed a place to sit?
“It did not ‘slip’ my mind,” Spock replied, clearly slightly puzzled by the idiom but, for once, not questioning the doctor’s manner of speaking. He didn’t address the other turns of phrases either, as he usually would have, leaving McCoy on edge. “I was experiencing an overly intense response to the auditory stimulus on the Thresya during shoreleave. I could not return to my own quarters as,” And here the Vulcan hesitates once again, a green tinge arriving to his cheeks that had McCoy narrowing his eyes, “The Captain is engaging in a rather loud activity.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, though he did feel slightly bad when Spock’s momentarily relaxed expression sharpened into something more severe, lips twisted ever so slightly downwards. So, those Vulcan ears had gotten him into trouble- not a sickbay problem, and certainly not a McCoy problem. He set the tricorder and scanner down on the bed next to Spock and opened his mouth, intending to bid the Vulcan farewell and wishing to let the door hit him on the way out, but something on the small screen caught his attention. The pain reading was quite high, and though McCoy thought it was probably a malfunction, he gave Spock another quick scan, frowning when the odd reading persisted. He scanned Spock with his eyes, squinting slightly- and it was that which led him to the truth. Spock’s own eyes were squinted slightly, and there was an irregular tension in his neck that McCoy hadn’t noticed before. “Computer, lights to fifty.” McCoy called, eyes focused on Spock’s face, and the minute smoothing of it in what McCoy would call relief. “You’ve got a headache.” He grumbled accusingly, moving away to fetch a hypo for the pain, and a mild sedative.
“Doctor McCoy, my pain levels are well within a manageable range, I have no need for a-” Before Spock could finish, McCoy had jabbed him with the painkiller, quickly followed by the sedative. Spock wouldn’t be able to mediate in sickbay (a fact that McCoy had overheard and one that displeased him immensely, though he had yet to find a solution), so sleep was the next best thing, and McCoy knew just as well as the pointy eared bastard that he would struggle without assistance in the form of a- “Hypo.” Spock finished, blinking rapidly for a few moments as the medication flooded his system.
“Bet they’re way more manageable now,” McCoy told him smugly, though he used the tricorder to check regardless, pleased when Spock’s pain readings were much lower. Spock looked slightly annoyed, but did not reply- apart from a jaw cracking yawn that had McCoy chuckling to himself as Spock attempted to regain his composure. Through trial and error McCoy had found a few hypos that didn’t completely negatively react with Spock’s hybrid biology, but they all still had side effects, including fatigue, and what McCoy would call openness, and Spock would call the erosion of his control.
“Yes, Doctor.” Spock mumbled, leaning back in the biobed and losing most of the tension in his shoulders, though some still remained. McCoy doubted he would ever get the full story of why Spock hated sickbay so much, but he suspected it was related to the extensive medical reports that existed from the Vulcan’s childhood- journal articles and the like. Spock’s blinks became slower, and McCoy slowly meandered around the sickbay, putting away the hypo, scanner and tricorder- after another scan, because even though the hypos were tested, he’s learned enough from Jim’s allergies to know there’s always a chance- and by the time he was finished, Spock’s breaths had evened out, his body relaxed, and McCoy concluded that the Vulcan was asleep.
McCoy sighed, ordering the computer to lower the lights further and slowly creeping back into his office. There were still hours left in his shift, and plenty of work to complete on his PADD, but he had to admit it was a slight comfort to hear the quiet snoring of the hobgoblin across the room and know that, at the very least, one of the problem crewmates on the ship was unharmed. McCoy yawned and settled in at his desk, pulling out his PADD and returning to his reading and signing medical reports as the hours left in his shift whittled away.
The quiet being suddenly interrupted shouldn’t have startled him nearly as much as it did, but he had been lulled into a false sense of security. “Computer, lights to 75.” McCoy mumbled as he lazily made his way into the sickbay, where a frantic Jim was rambling to a very sleepy Spock. McCoy’s mouth betrayed him by quirking into a fond smile, and his thoughts followed the trend with a repetition of ‘cute’ as he watched Spock attempting to wake up through the haze of the sedative. For all that the younger officer was usually poise and perfection, it was amusing to see him all open and soft- especially in a non-threatening ever present danger setting. Jim hardly seemed to register his presence- not even sparing a greeting as he desperately babbled apologies and half-thought out explanations to his first officer.
“Jim, why are you bothering my patient?” McCoy asked, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and digging his thumb in just enough to be painful. Spock was blinking rapidly, evidently trying to wake up more, but McCoy doubted he’d come to full awareness anytime soon. That sedative was strong, and long acting.
“Bones!” Jim hissed, pushing him away and rubbing at his back and sparing his friend an annoyed glance before turning back to the confused Vulcan watching the display with a furrowed brow. McCoy rolled his eyes and shoved Jim back, into one of the biobeds. When Jim attempted to rise, McCoy halted the movement with a narrowing of his eyes. Once Jim gave up, McCoy set about giving him a scan as well- just in case- but there was nothing out of the ordinary, other than that he was a bit drunk.
“Stop bothering Spock. Go to bed. Both of you.” McCoy commanded, adding the final order as an afterthought as he looked at Spock’s half open eyes, exhausted but clearly trying to focus. Jim attempted to protest, but he didn’t put up much of a fight when McCoy reclined the bed and tucked him in. McCoy was very well practiced at managing a drunk James Kirk, and his skills didn’t fail him.
“Computer, lights at 15.” He added, meandering back into his office and letting his 2 occupants rest. All in a day's work, here aboard the Enterprise.