The BLTS Archive - Refuge
by J. Rosemary Moss (jrosemary@gmail.com)

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Discloser: Sadly, I don't own Star Trek.

Feedback: Any and all welcome!

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Spock had just sat down to tune his lute when someone
rang—insistently—outside his door. "Spock!" a voice called
from without. "Are you in there?"

It was the doctor. Spock raised an eyebrow, wondering what
emergency had brought the excitable human to his cabin.

"Come," the Vulcan said, setting his instrument aside.

The doors opened and McCoy, clearly agitated, strode inside.
"Spock, mind if I bunk with you for the night?"

Spock narrowed his eyes at the doctor. He had not heard tell
of any technical difficulties in or near McCoy's cabin. "Is
there some problem with your own quarters, Doctor?"

"You bet," he answered, pulling up a chair without bothering
to wait for an invitation. "They're under siege."

Spock thought he must have misheard. "Under siege?"

McCoy nodded. "Tonia Barrows. The girl's furious with me — and
determined to hunt me down. It's not safe for a man in
there. I need a refuge."

"I see." No doubt this had something to do with the doctor's
tempestuous relationship with Lt. Barrows. The couple had
spent the last two years 'breaking up' and 'getting back
together.' Sometimes months passed during their 'break - up'
periods. Other times only a few weeks separated them from
each other. "Am I to understand, Doctor, that you have
'broken up' with Lt. Barrows again?"

He nodded and then shook his head. "Well, I've been trying
to break things off completely for months," he explained,
running his fingers through his hair in a worried fashion.
"But it's been damn awkward."

"Did you explain to the lieutenant that you no longer found
your relationship to be mutually beneficial?"

McCoy gave a short laugh at that. "That's half the problem!
I never wanted a relationship to begin with—and she claimed
that she didn't either. We were supposed to be friends with
benefits. But the next thing I knew, she was complaining
that I wasn't putting enough of an effort into our
relationship." He paused long enough to sink his head into
his hands. "That should have served as a warning bell."

Spock stared at him. "Friends with benefits?" he repeated,
raising an eyebrow again.

McCoy nodded without looking up. "Yeah. You know — friends
that sleep together."

"I see," the Vulcan said slowly. Human mating habits were
even more complicated than he had realized.

The doctor finally looked up again. "So what do you say,
Spock? Can I crash here tonight?"

Both brows went up in alarm at that. "Crash?"

McCoy laughed. "Don't worry—I'm not planning on wrecking
your cabin. Can I stay here tonight, I mean?"

Spock considered him. "Doctor, I have no objection to
sharing my quarters with you," he said at length. "You are
always welcome here. However, would it not be best to
confront Lt. Barrows and make your feelings on this matter
plain?"

"No," McCoy answered at once. "She's in no mood to be
reasonable right now. She's angry as hell, as a matter of
fact."

"Because you 'broke up' with her?"

He shook his head. "No. Well, yes. I mean, technically she
broke up with me—but that took a lot of doing on my part."

Spock blinked. "You induced her to break up with you?"

"Yeah—it took forever, but it finally worked. But now she
thinks we should talk about what went wrong." He paused
again, this time to roll his eyes. "And she's hopping mad
that I don't want to discuss it."

"If she is harassing you, Doctor, you can report—"

"I'm not going to report her, Spock!" McCoy said, cutting
him off as he rolled his eyes again. "I can't do that to
her. Besides, Jim would just tell me to get my act together
and deal with it. And he'd be right."

"So you wish to 'deal with it' by hiding in my cabin?"

McCoy grinned. "That's about the size of it, yes."

"Why my cabin?"

"Because no one would dream that I'd be here — not all night,
anyway. She'll think of Jim right away—I don't know if she'd
have the nerve to knock on his door, but she just might. And
she'll think of Scotty. She'd have no qualms about pursuing
me there. But she won't think of you."

He paused to stretch out his arms and remove his blue
uniform shirt, leaving the standard black T-shirt he wore
beneath it.

"Why would she not think of me?" Spock inquired.

"Huh?" McCoy said, tossing his uniform shirt aside. "Oh,
because — well, you know."

"No, Doctor, I do not."

McCoy gave him a crooked grin. "Frankly, Spock, she wouldn't
think that you'd put up with me all night. I mean, she's
probably picturing me getting drunk to disguise what she
sees as my emotional inadequacies."

"Do you intend to get drunk?"

He shook his head. "No. Well, I won't say no to a glass or
two of Saurian brandy, mind. But I'll behave myself apart
from that."

Spock nodded. He kept one bottle in his cabin—for use by the
doctor or Jim.

"By the way," McCoy continued, "do you think we could turn
down the heat just a smidge? When I was coming up in
Georgia, I thought it was the hottest place on earth. That
little side trip we took on Vulcan taught me otherwise."

Spock felt a glow of warmth at the doctor's casual use of
the term 'coming up' in place of 'growing up.' Illogically,
he found McCoy's southernisms charming. But he had always
been careful to disguise that fact from the doctor.

"Computer," he said, "lower the temperature to 30 degrees
Celsius."

The doctor frowned. "What does that work out to?"

"86 degrees Fahrenheit," Spock answered, wondering why
American humans insisted on using obsolete units of measure.

"Well, that's a little more like it," McCoy said grudgingly.
"I can survive that. Thanks, Spock."

He paused and sank further into his chair. Then his blue
eyes seemed to take on a far-off look. "What the hell am I
doing, Spock? I let myself get tangled up with Tonia, who,
like Jocelyn, just doesn't seem to understand how many hours
a doctor has to work. And the last time we were broken up,
what did I do? Marry the first woman I came across. Although
at least with Natira I had an excuse; I thought I was
dying."

"Doctor," Spock said, cocking his head at the human, "what,
precisely, are you searching for in a bond mate?"

McCoy smiled a little at that. "A marriage partner, you
mean? Oh, I don't know. Someone who'll understand why I
devote so much time to my work — and who won't mind. Someone
who's a good friend. Someone I can argue with and tease
without constant drama."

Spock regarded him steadily. "I see," he said slowly.

"But I'm beginning to think that person doesn't exist," the
doctor said with a sigh. "Or if they do, I have no idea how
to find them." He paused and glanced around the room.
"Should I put a couple of chairs together for tonight? A
sort of make-shift bed?"

"If you wish," Spock answered as he stood up and retrieved
his bottle of Saurian brandy. "However, you are welcome to
share my bunk."

"I'll take you up on that, if you won't find it weird,"
McCoy said. "That'll be more comfortable than the chairs and
better than any cot we drag in."

"I shall not find it 'weird,' doctor. I trust that you will
not?"

He laughed at that as he shook his head. "No, I think I can
trust you with my virtue, Spock."

"Indeed," Spock agreed, attempting to keep a somewhat rueful
tone out of his response. He poured a glass of brandy for
the doctor and, after a moment's consideration, one for
himself.

In the end, they drank the full contents of the bottle of
brandy together. That was certainly more alcohol than Spock
was accustomed to drinking, but he had no difficulty
metabolizing it. And McCoy's long experience with alcoholic
beverages of all stripes seemed to serve him well.

The doctor did, however, grow ever more loquacious as the
evening wore on. Soon he was regaling Spock with stories
about 'coming up.' Spock raised his eyebrows at one in
particular. When McCoy was thirteen, he and a cousin of the
same age had stolen his father's vehicle - McCoy insisted it
was a case of borrowing without permission, not stealing — and
promptly wrecked it due to their inexperience. McCoy seemed
to derive no end of amusement from describing both their
stupidity and their frightening crash into a tree.

"I fail to see the humor in that story, Doctor," Spock
chided. "You and your cousin might have been killed."

"Oh, it's only funny because we survived," McCoy assured
him. "Although, at the time, I almost would rather have died
than face my father. . . "

He smiled fondly at the memory, letting his voice trail off.
Then he shook himself and favored Spock with a wry grin.
"Well, it's late. I'm going to get me to bed. Thanks again
for letting me crash here."

Spock watched as he slipped out of his boots and then
climbed into the bunk. Then, after giving the doctor enough
time to make himself comfortable, he removed his own uniform
shirt and his boots. But he left on his black trousers and
T - shirt, just as McCoy had.

He slipped into the bunk, fighting the sudden urge to wrap
his arms around the good doctor. McCoy had made it
abundantly plain that he did not view the Vulcan as a
potential mate.

But Spock soon found himself with an armful of McCoy
regardless. In his sleep the doctor had curled up next to
him, making use of the Vulcan's body heat. Spock swallowed
at that and summoned all the Vulcan disciplines at his
command in order to squelch his arousal.

But somehow he could not bring himself to push the doctor
away.

---

Leonard woke up feeling surprisingly comfortable despite a
slight headache and the excessive heat in the room. He kept
his eyes closed for a bit, searching his memory for an
explanation. Ah — he was in Spock's quarters. That explained
the heat. And they had polished off a bottle of Saurian
brandy together. That explained the headache.

But nothing explained the fact that there was a pair of
strong, comforting arms encasing him. Or the fact that he
was using the Vulcan's shoulder for a pillow.

He was pretty sure this intimacy was his fault. Spock
was — well, both too much the prig and too much the gentleman
to initiate it. But surely Spock hadn't been drunk enough to
allow such intimate contact between them? Hell, he didn't
usually like to touch anyone — as a touch telepath, it was too
uncomfortable for the overgrown elf.

Leonard opened his eyes and glanced at Spock's face. The
Vulcan was wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

"Spock?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Why didn't you push me off your bunk when I, uh, invaded
your personal space?"

"I did not mind the invasion, Doctor."

"Oh." McCoy took a moment to digest that. "Why not?"

Spock sighed, but did not answer.

Leonard felt his eyes widen. His mouth opened, but for a
long moment he couldn't seem to find his voice. "I see," he
said at last.

They both fell into a silent spell. Several minutes must
have passed by the time McCoy broke it.

"Spock?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"How long have I been blind to your feelings?"

"Feelings are illogical, Doctor. I have merely observed that
we are surprisingly compatible."

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Uh - huh. And, ah, just how long ago
did you make this observation?"

"Two years, six months, five days, sixteen hours, twelve
minutes and thirty-two seconds ago."

"Really?"

"Really, Doctor."

McCoy pushed himself up by his elbows and rolled his eyes at
Spock. "Well, I'll say this much for you, you pointy-eared
menace. You'll never forget an anniversary."

"That is unlikely," Spock agreed.

McCoy grinned, but then he felt his face grow serious.
"Spock, I—I'm not sure what to say. Except that you don't
screw around with a friendship like ours without careful
consideration. I don't want to lose you as a friend."

Spock's dark eyes bored into him. "Did you not say that you
wished to mate with a good friend?"

"Yeah, I did," Leonard admitted, smiling ruefully. "But I
meant — well, I wasn't thinking of, ah, mating with someone
who's already one of my best friends. Look, I'm not saying
this can't work. I'm just saying. . . I'm just saying that
we ought to take our time about it."

Something flickered in Spock's eyes. Some emotion — and it was
an emotion — that McCoy couldn't read. But then the Vulcan
nodded. "That is logical, Doctor. Would you, perhaps, care
to have dinner with me this evening?"

"I'd like that," Leonard assured him. But then he climbed
out of the bunk, lest he be tempted to move too fast. Damn
those pointy ears—they were surprisingly enticing at this
hour of the morning. Must be the Saurian brandy.

"Doctor?"

McCoy paused in the act of picking up his uniform shirt.
"Yes, Spock?"

"Do you intend to resume your relationship with Tonia
Barrows as you have in the past?"

"Absolutely not," McCoy answered. "And, honestly, that
decision has nothing to do with you. It's over between Tonia
and me regardless."

Spock nodded at that but made no other comment.

McCoy pulled the uniform shirt over his head — it would serve
for now, although he'd need to grab fresh clothes from his
cabin later. Then he turned to look at his friend.

"I won't hide from Tonia any longer, Spock," he promised.
"I'll, ah, make my feelings plain today."

Spock merely nodded again, so McCoy turned and walked to the
door. But he spared the Vulcan one more glance before he
left.

"See you in a bit, Spock," he said, "and then I'll see you
for dinner."

---

Spock folded his hands together after the doctor left and
frowned thoughtfully. Then he rose from his bunk and made
his way next door to the captain's cabin.

Jim was just pulling on his shirt when Spock entered.
"Morning, Spock," he said. "What can I do for you?"

The Vulcan stood there uncertainly for a moment. "Dr. McCoy
and Lt. Barrows have broken up," he began at last.

Jim finished straightening his gold uniform shirt before
glancing over at his first officer. If he found it odd to
hear Spock use such a human colloquialism — or to take such an
interest in gossip — he gave no indication of it. "Yeah," he
said. "So I've heard. This time it may even last."

Spock felt a tell-tale blush creep into his face — but that
was unworthy of a Vulcan. He took a deep breath and made his
request in a voice that was thoroughly devoid of emotion.

"Jim," he said, "is there any way to increase the odds that
Dr. McCoy will not be caught up with her again? It is a
habit that seems to distress the doctor."

"So it does," Jim agreed, giving Spock a look that was
suspiciously bland. "Frankly, I don't think the relationship
is good for either of them."

He paused and his face grew thoughtful. "On the whole,
though, I'm quite impressed with Lt. Barrows' performance.
She probably deserves another promotion. Of course, I don't
have the proper position available for her here on the
Enterprise. But I can think of one or two other ships that
would be perfect. I'd be happy to recommend her for them. In
fact, I'll sit down with her today and talk it over."

Spock breathed a sigh of relief. "That sounds like an
excellent idea, Jim."

The captain nodded. "Tell me something, Spock. Are we on for
our game of chess tonight? Or are you otherwise occupied?"

"I—I have made plans to have dinner with Dr. McCoy. I am
uncertain as to when I will be free later in the evening."

Jim grinned, letting the bland façade he had adopted drop.
"I thought that might be the case. Well, don't worry about
it. You two kids just enjoy yourselves."

Spock raised an eyebrow at his captain. "I'm afraid I don't
understand, Jim. We are not children—"

But Kirk laughed, cutting him off. "Just tell Bones I said
that. And tell him not to do anything I wouldn't do. He'll
know what I mean."

The Vulcan nodded formally, although he still did not take
the captain's meaning. What did Jim's actions have to do
with the matter at hand? But no doubt this was a human
peculiarity.

"Very well, Jim," he said. Then he turned for the door.

"And Spock," Kirk called out.

Spock turned. "Yes Jim?"

The Captain smiled at him. "Good luck."

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The End