FIC: A day like this
Title: A day like this
Pairing: K/S, platonic K+Mc, hinted Sc/U
Rating: PG (the faintest trace of sexual references)
Summary: at the wedding reception for his best friend, McCoy dances, gets feely touchy, and gives a toast
Notes: For this PROMPT - shockingly I wrote what could be considered fluff
Beta: xlcatloveress
Alpha: ninety6tears
When Spock excuses himself to exchange pleasantries with his family members, he swoops in and grabs Jim by the arm, pulling the younger man from his perch at the bar without so much as a by-your-leave. Though the actual formalities of what Vulcans considered to be a “wedding” occurred months ago (some wedding - they’d skipped the ceremony and went right for the wedding night), this is the formal reception, and it’s a damn special day, the only version of a Human wedding he’s been at in years; Jim’s not allowed to be left alone on a day like this.
“Neglecting you already, is he?” He says offhand, swinging Jim around to face him and settles a hand on the man’s waist. Part of him knows they’re attracting attention but he’s too content from the alcohol to care. His tolerance isn’t as it used to be.
“He will make up for it.” Jim says with a quick grin, eyes sparkling with more than his usual exuberance. He snorts in response and takes Jim’s hand. “Err, Bones what are you doing?”
“Dancing, what’s it look like? What else are you supposed to do anyway at something like this?” He nods to the guests around them, many of them enjoying themselves on the dance floor. He doesn’t wait for Jim to get over his surprise before pushing him into the dancing throng. His mother taught him that not dancing at a wedding is about as good as insulting the bride - not that there is a bride, but he likes his traditions. So Jim’s not a bride but close enough.
It’s a nice mix of friends, family, crew - even the presence of Starfleet brass who managed to wrangle invites by demanding to host this thing doesn’t diminish any of McCoy’s enjoyment. There is booze on tap, none of that reconstituted dry-frozen crap and the meat is not reconstructed protein molecules. It’s all real, high-grade quality, the very best for Jim Kirk, poster boy for Starfleet and now, officially pairing off with Spock, a champion for interspecies co-existence - man, that’s a mouthful.
A Sulamid drifts into view, her many limbs swaying in time with the music as she is guided by a man in an admiral’s uniform. Species harmony or not, that just looks downright weird.
“Why do you get to lead?” Jim asks, looking more amused than annoyed.
“I’m pretty sure you got handed off to Spock and not the other way around.”
“He still lets me lead.” Jim tells him with a roll of the eyes, lips quirking. “Apparently I’m good at it.”
“Of course he does.” He drawls lightly, putting on the same tone he employs to smooth Joanna’s ruffled feathers. He mocking Jim and they both know it.
The younger man laughs and hugs him. McCoy pats on him the back and grins himself. When they let go to resume their dance, they’re still close enough that he can pick out the slightest creases around the corners of Jim’s eyes, laugh-lines that weren’t there before. It wasn’t all that long ago when they left Space Dock on the Enterprise, all raw and young - well, younger - and now here they were, a short four years later. A lot has changed, besides the fact that Jim’s now spoken for and Spock is much less annoying, no longer just a sarcastic superior know-it-all with a poor sense of humor.
“Weissman did a nice job.”
He hums in agreement, because there is not a rose or lily anywhere. Instead the Head of Recreation chose Australian natives for the few flower arrangements, more dramatic and odd than pretty. The inclusion of the odd Vulcan bloom is also a nice touch. He also increased the size of the main Rec hall by combining it with the swimming pool next door (hidden underneath the dance floor) and the gymnasium. “That’s because he reports to me.”
Jim chuckles. “Good work on that appointment, Doctor McCoy.”
“Thank you, Captain, I do try.” He accepts with mock graciousness, his accent thickening; but a discussion of the man he appointed to be the Chief of Recreation isn’t really what he wants to have with Jim right now. “You realize, you and Spock, this had just been your personal business… with Starfleet throwing this little shindig, well…”
He wants to tell Jim that this isn’t just about having feelings or deciding that he wants to throw his lot in with Spock. It’s not that simple though it ought to be. Jim’s career is the interest of thousands around the galaxy, and every other month there’s a new reason why Starfleet proudly keeps very close tabs on him. Spock’s not too far behind himself on the list of People-To-Watch, considering his various influential family members and his prospects to advance into an equally influential position. What was a very private relationship is now a very public spectacle. Well, at least until the refit is completed and the ship flies off.
“I know.” Jim says simply with a smile, reading his thoughts and dismissing them with an envious ease.
“Well, if you ever need- time, private, personal time or, something, I’m the CMO and I understand we have the authority to give people time off from their posts, for the more important things, like, you know, real life.” He says, stumbling a bit, serious and heartfelt with some cheek that falls a little flat. The sound of Jim laughing draws people to look their way.
“I’ll remember that, thanks Bones.” McCoy accepts the pats on the shoulder with a chuckle and grins back when Uhura smirks at him from over Jim’s shoulder. The younger man shrugs his shoulders, wincing slightly. “For now I just want to know how you feel comfortable in this damn thing!”
It’s his turn to laugh as Jim squirms in the suit.
“Tell me you’re happy.” He says, sounding entirely too much like his mother. She says this each time he contacts her with news of a life-changing event - like when he announced that he was leaving town to enlist in Starfleet, and when he’d told her he was going on a deep space mission, aviophobia be damned. It’s her way of showing him that she loves him, cares about what goes on. He wants Jim to know that in the absence of parents, he wants the job.
“It’s hard not to be. It’s what I wanted, honestly.” Jim says quietly, eyes shining with some secret joy that heartens McCoy to see up close. “I know you have your problems with Spock-”
“It’s not about me - I’m not the one who’s going to be waking up with him fifty years from now.” He says lightly in a casual tone but Jim’s eyes fix on his, reading the serious intent behind his words. There is no divorce from a Vulcan bond, not unless both parties are prepared for some truly nasty side effects and deep psychological trauma - talk about death till we part - but a relationship publically sanctioned by Starfleet is rather binding. Something in the background catches his attention. It’s the Vulcan, watching them from across the floor, looking like he wants to come over. McCoy shoots him a sly grin, spins Jim around, keeping up with the change in music and leads them into the middle of the floor. “And I don’t have a problem with Spock, I’m pretty sure that he has a problem with me.”
“Hey!” Jim protests with a laugh, realizing what the doctor’s trying to do.
“What? He’s hardly going to come over here and dance with you.”
“He might.” Jim says confidently, with a glance over and a sultry smile for his - is it better half or terrible half? McCoy can’t decide. “It’s a special day.”
Before he can make a bet out of it that he knows Jim will win (there’s a bottle of Saurian brandy tucked away somewhere he doesn’t mind letting go of on this momentous occasion - especially since the first wedding, the Vulcan one, was rather anti-climatic) simply because when it comes to Jim, Spock is hopeless, the music stops and people start drifting back to their seats. It’s speech time.
Oh joy.
As Best Man, he has to give a speech. He considers doing the usual stuff - how Jim was an embarrassment when he was young, how he’s changed, grown up, the impact of Spock on his life - that people say when a best friend gets hitched. He considers doing the comedy routine, telling everyone deadpan that Jim’s life is over, how he never gets to see his friend these days because it’s all Spock-Spock-Spock, perhaps even break out a few of Mama McCoy favorite pearls of wisdom in true Southern-style. Quickly though, he decides not to because that’s just cruel and unusual punishment for the twenty-seven live interpreters whose sole purpose in attending is to translate cultural nuances that the Universal Translator will miss.
Nervous and still not quite sure what he’s going to say, he walks Jim back to Spock’s side and goes to his seat, opposite them at the main table. The MC, Uhura dressed to the nines in a lovely red dress, gets onto the small stage for the live band (honest to God, live band - Starfleet might be turning this into a fucking spectacle, but at least they’re decent enough to spring for a real band completely with a Vulcan lytherette master) amidst bright chatter and light laughter - or what counts for light laughter in any particular species. Slowly she clears her throat, and welcomes everyone for the evening in Standard, then Vulcan, and launches into a short explanation regarding the modern origins of the Western custom of eating a wedding cake in celebration. Apparently it’ll be served to everyone (in various forms, depending on species tolerance) while the speeches are happening.
The Starfleet brass, thankfully, get first dibs on speeches and McCoy settles back as Admiral Barnett and Nogura launch into a big welcome for all the important people. He tunes out the rest of it but laughs along with everyone else when the Admirals start describing the first confrontational meeting between Cadet Kirk and Commander Spock at an academic hearing. The baton passes to Admiral Pike, seated on Jim’s left, who stands leaning on his cane with a smile down at his most difficult and famous pupil.
Pike’s soft authoritative voice pronounces that he’s happy for them, that Jim needs someone to keep him on a leash - for this people titter and Jim grins, unrepentant - and “Spock, didn’t I tell you when I made Jim your XO that it wasn’t a prank.” The Vulcan’s response is a nod followed a look of deep satisfaction when Jim surreptitiously lays a hand on his thigh under the table and doesn’t look in his direction.
No one is confused by the remark. It’s universal knowledge these days, all the details of that tragedy which united what would become the most outstanding crew in decades - the five year mission isn’t even over yet, but already their names are well-known.
McCoy casts an eye over to the Vulcan table, silent, politely watching the proceedings, and he wonders what they think of this. Their faces are perfectly blank but the fact that all those invited RSVP, showed well-versed in ‘Human joining traditions’ and presented thoughtful gifts upon the couple says something about the shifting consensus regarding Humans and non-Vulcans in general within their society.
Too quickly, it’s his turn, Uhura’s introducing him and Jim’s looking to him, unable to decide between dread or pleased anticipation. A little wobbly from all the gin, startled by the eyes, sensors and snouts suddenly pointed in his direction, he stands and clears his throat, reminding himself that he’s Doctor Leonard McCoy dammit, Chief Surgeon of the USS Enterprise - he’s faced down Klingons, travelled through time and survived being shot at by angry natives - this should be easy.
“Well… um the first time I met Jim it was on a shuttle bound for Starfleet….” McCoy starts, and almost immediately Jim tenses, painfully awaiting the upcoming humiliation stories that people usually like to drag out at events like this. He leaves the boy hanging for a long moment because there’s something enjoyable about a nervous Jim Kirk, but decides to save the truly good stuff for Spock. He tells everyone so and the crowd titters while Jim blushes just the slightest bit, grateful but wary of what that’s going to cost him.
He talks about Jim taking care of him after that infamous first shuttle ride/meeting where he throws up after they get off, the way Jim took to Starfleet and found his place there, Jim asking him ‘Who is that pointy-eared bastard?’ and his reply, ‘I don’t know… but I like him.’ He skips over the part where he sneaks Jim aboard the Enterprise as they warp off to Vulcan, because even if it’s all forgiven, done and dusted, there’s a lot of Starfleet toes to avoid tonight. He navigates around anything too feely-touchy, settles on a good old-fashioned toast about how looking after Jim’s a full-time job, and how Spock’s perfect for it really - all that unflappable calm.
“I’m proud of ya, Jim.” He says roughly, because the boy had snuck up on him and he considered Jim an underfoot little brother before he knew it. “Never thought I’d live to see the day - well, actually I never thought you’d live to see the day.”
Around him, people share in chuckles over the dig; Jim’s reputation for heroics precedes him. No one gets that he means it, that he honestly used to be afraid for Jim’s mortality, except for Admiral Pike who casts him a knowing smile. McCoy fixes Spock with a serious look and points a finger at the man. “You do your job, Commander, and keep this one alive - or you’ll be answering to me, you hear?”
“Yes, Doctor. I believe that is in the job description of spouse.” The Vulcan replies without a hint of irony, eyes warm though nothing moves on his face. Those that get what’s happened - a Vulcan has just made a joke - are all caught between laughter and wide-eyed amazement. It’s a special day, or so Jim tells him.
Besides him, Jim knocks their shoulders together playfully and slings an arm around Spock’s shoulder. Only the presence of a third of the crew, Starfleet’s top brass and sixty dignitaries stop them from making out like teenagers. He’s caught them before - he’d prefer to avoid the sight again, even though secretly he’s happy for Jim, to be devoted to something, to have something to live for. There’s no kissing, instead their arms are pressed together, hands no doubt entangled underneath the table in a Vulcan kiss.
There is applause and the Enterprise crew who are present whistle at him, Sulu yelling out from the next table over that he can’t stop there, that he demands to know embarrassing stories about his captain - why, Mr. Spock won’t even appreciate them! McCoy waves them away, ignores Sulu because the boy has had just a little too much to drink and sits down with his bourbon, happy to have done his bit.
Uhura takes it from there, gets the band to start playing again and wanders back to her seat. He turns around and taps her on the back when she finally sits down at her table, just behind him. “You did well.”
Her grin is infectious, “Thanks, you too.”
“Want to dance?” He offers, holding out a hand.
He dances with her for a bit, their conversation light, revolving mostly around where they’re going to spend the well-deserved shore leave they’ve been allotted while Jim and Spock disappear off wherever. He passes her off to Scotty just as something which sounds like historical swing starts up. The Chief Engineer whispers something with a sly grin as they spin that makes her throw her head back in laughter. McCoy’s ready for another drink and so heads back to the bar. This time, Jim does the swooping, dropping down in the barstool next to him and leaning against his shoulder.
“Look what you made me do,” he grumbles, eying the spilt bourbon on the bar counter. He shrugs Jim off. “Are you abandoning him now?”
Jim is blunt as always, a broad grin on his face. “There are some things that Spock should never know. Good speech, you had me there for a moment.”
McCoy chuckles and throws his drink back. “Don’t worry. Anything I tell Spock will only be to reinforce what he already knows - you’re a walking disaster, but you always save the day.”
“Aww Bones you do love me.”
“So what if I do.” He grumbles under his breath, cocking an eyebrow at Jim in challenge. “Lord knows its a thankless job but I do it anyway.”
Jim beams at him like he's just promised him that he can keep the Enterprise forever.
“Enjoy the party, Bones, and don’t drink too much.”
Like hell, he thinks to himself, especially since Starfleet’s footing the bill. He deliberately gestures to the barman for another and turns around to watch Jim’s back as the man returns to Spock’s side. The Vulcan is speaking to Nogura and his group, but he reacts instantly to Jim’s presence. He catches a glimpse of Spock’s hands, tucked behind his back, opening in expectation as Jim sneaks up from behind. Jim slides his hand in and Spock’s hand closes around it, squeezing gently. The admirals have no idea and continue talking, with a brief nod to Jim.
McCoy takes another sip, swirling the bourbon around in his mouth and grins secretly to himself.
A/N - wow I am evolving - I think I just wrote fluff. Hope you enjoyed and please review :)
Pairing: K/S, platonic K+Mc, hinted Sc/U
Rating: PG (the faintest trace of sexual references)
Summary: at the wedding reception for his best friend, McCoy dances, gets feely touchy, and gives a toast
Notes: For this PROMPT - shockingly I wrote what could be considered fluff
Beta: xlcatloveress
Alpha: ninety6tears
When Spock excuses himself to exchange pleasantries with his family members, he swoops in and grabs Jim by the arm, pulling the younger man from his perch at the bar without so much as a by-your-leave. Though the actual formalities of what Vulcans considered to be a “wedding” occurred months ago (some wedding - they’d skipped the ceremony and went right for the wedding night), this is the formal reception, and it’s a damn special day, the only version of a Human wedding he’s been at in years; Jim’s not allowed to be left alone on a day like this.
“Neglecting you already, is he?” He says offhand, swinging Jim around to face him and settles a hand on the man’s waist. Part of him knows they’re attracting attention but he’s too content from the alcohol to care. His tolerance isn’t as it used to be.
“He will make up for it.” Jim says with a quick grin, eyes sparkling with more than his usual exuberance. He snorts in response and takes Jim’s hand. “Err, Bones what are you doing?”
“Dancing, what’s it look like? What else are you supposed to do anyway at something like this?” He nods to the guests around them, many of them enjoying themselves on the dance floor. He doesn’t wait for Jim to get over his surprise before pushing him into the dancing throng. His mother taught him that not dancing at a wedding is about as good as insulting the bride - not that there is a bride, but he likes his traditions. So Jim’s not a bride but close enough.
It’s a nice mix of friends, family, crew - even the presence of Starfleet brass who managed to wrangle invites by demanding to host this thing doesn’t diminish any of McCoy’s enjoyment. There is booze on tap, none of that reconstituted dry-frozen crap and the meat is not reconstructed protein molecules. It’s all real, high-grade quality, the very best for Jim Kirk, poster boy for Starfleet and now, officially pairing off with Spock, a champion for interspecies co-existence - man, that’s a mouthful.
A Sulamid drifts into view, her many limbs swaying in time with the music as she is guided by a man in an admiral’s uniform. Species harmony or not, that just looks downright weird.
“Why do you get to lead?” Jim asks, looking more amused than annoyed.
“I’m pretty sure you got handed off to Spock and not the other way around.”
“He still lets me lead.” Jim tells him with a roll of the eyes, lips quirking. “Apparently I’m good at it.”
“Of course he does.” He drawls lightly, putting on the same tone he employs to smooth Joanna’s ruffled feathers. He mocking Jim and they both know it.
The younger man laughs and hugs him. McCoy pats on him the back and grins himself. When they let go to resume their dance, they’re still close enough that he can pick out the slightest creases around the corners of Jim’s eyes, laugh-lines that weren’t there before. It wasn’t all that long ago when they left Space Dock on the Enterprise, all raw and young - well, younger - and now here they were, a short four years later. A lot has changed, besides the fact that Jim’s now spoken for and Spock is much less annoying, no longer just a sarcastic superior know-it-all with a poor sense of humor.
“Weissman did a nice job.”
He hums in agreement, because there is not a rose or lily anywhere. Instead the Head of Recreation chose Australian natives for the few flower arrangements, more dramatic and odd than pretty. The inclusion of the odd Vulcan bloom is also a nice touch. He also increased the size of the main Rec hall by combining it with the swimming pool next door (hidden underneath the dance floor) and the gymnasium. “That’s because he reports to me.”
Jim chuckles. “Good work on that appointment, Doctor McCoy.”
“Thank you, Captain, I do try.” He accepts with mock graciousness, his accent thickening; but a discussion of the man he appointed to be the Chief of Recreation isn’t really what he wants to have with Jim right now. “You realize, you and Spock, this had just been your personal business… with Starfleet throwing this little shindig, well…”
He wants to tell Jim that this isn’t just about having feelings or deciding that he wants to throw his lot in with Spock. It’s not that simple though it ought to be. Jim’s career is the interest of thousands around the galaxy, and every other month there’s a new reason why Starfleet proudly keeps very close tabs on him. Spock’s not too far behind himself on the list of People-To-Watch, considering his various influential family members and his prospects to advance into an equally influential position. What was a very private relationship is now a very public spectacle. Well, at least until the refit is completed and the ship flies off.
“I know.” Jim says simply with a smile, reading his thoughts and dismissing them with an envious ease.
“Well, if you ever need- time, private, personal time or, something, I’m the CMO and I understand we have the authority to give people time off from their posts, for the more important things, like, you know, real life.” He says, stumbling a bit, serious and heartfelt with some cheek that falls a little flat. The sound of Jim laughing draws people to look their way.
“I’ll remember that, thanks Bones.” McCoy accepts the pats on the shoulder with a chuckle and grins back when Uhura smirks at him from over Jim’s shoulder. The younger man shrugs his shoulders, wincing slightly. “For now I just want to know how you feel comfortable in this damn thing!”
It’s his turn to laugh as Jim squirms in the suit.
“Tell me you’re happy.” He says, sounding entirely too much like his mother. She says this each time he contacts her with news of a life-changing event - like when he announced that he was leaving town to enlist in Starfleet, and when he’d told her he was going on a deep space mission, aviophobia be damned. It’s her way of showing him that she loves him, cares about what goes on. He wants Jim to know that in the absence of parents, he wants the job.
“It’s hard not to be. It’s what I wanted, honestly.” Jim says quietly, eyes shining with some secret joy that heartens McCoy to see up close. “I know you have your problems with Spock-”
“It’s not about me - I’m not the one who’s going to be waking up with him fifty years from now.” He says lightly in a casual tone but Jim’s eyes fix on his, reading the serious intent behind his words. There is no divorce from a Vulcan bond, not unless both parties are prepared for some truly nasty side effects and deep psychological trauma - talk about death till we part - but a relationship publically sanctioned by Starfleet is rather binding. Something in the background catches his attention. It’s the Vulcan, watching them from across the floor, looking like he wants to come over. McCoy shoots him a sly grin, spins Jim around, keeping up with the change in music and leads them into the middle of the floor. “And I don’t have a problem with Spock, I’m pretty sure that he has a problem with me.”
“Hey!” Jim protests with a laugh, realizing what the doctor’s trying to do.
“What? He’s hardly going to come over here and dance with you.”
“He might.” Jim says confidently, with a glance over and a sultry smile for his - is it better half or terrible half? McCoy can’t decide. “It’s a special day.”
Before he can make a bet out of it that he knows Jim will win (there’s a bottle of Saurian brandy tucked away somewhere he doesn’t mind letting go of on this momentous occasion - especially since the first wedding, the Vulcan one, was rather anti-climatic) simply because when it comes to Jim, Spock is hopeless, the music stops and people start drifting back to their seats. It’s speech time.
Oh joy.
As Best Man, he has to give a speech. He considers doing the usual stuff - how Jim was an embarrassment when he was young, how he’s changed, grown up, the impact of Spock on his life - that people say when a best friend gets hitched. He considers doing the comedy routine, telling everyone deadpan that Jim’s life is over, how he never gets to see his friend these days because it’s all Spock-Spock-Spock, perhaps even break out a few of Mama McCoy favorite pearls of wisdom in true Southern-style. Quickly though, he decides not to because that’s just cruel and unusual punishment for the twenty-seven live interpreters whose sole purpose in attending is to translate cultural nuances that the Universal Translator will miss.
Nervous and still not quite sure what he’s going to say, he walks Jim back to Spock’s side and goes to his seat, opposite them at the main table. The MC, Uhura dressed to the nines in a lovely red dress, gets onto the small stage for the live band (honest to God, live band - Starfleet might be turning this into a fucking spectacle, but at least they’re decent enough to spring for a real band completely with a Vulcan lytherette master) amidst bright chatter and light laughter - or what counts for light laughter in any particular species. Slowly she clears her throat, and welcomes everyone for the evening in Standard, then Vulcan, and launches into a short explanation regarding the modern origins of the Western custom of eating a wedding cake in celebration. Apparently it’ll be served to everyone (in various forms, depending on species tolerance) while the speeches are happening.
The Starfleet brass, thankfully, get first dibs on speeches and McCoy settles back as Admiral Barnett and Nogura launch into a big welcome for all the important people. He tunes out the rest of it but laughs along with everyone else when the Admirals start describing the first confrontational meeting between Cadet Kirk and Commander Spock at an academic hearing. The baton passes to Admiral Pike, seated on Jim’s left, who stands leaning on his cane with a smile down at his most difficult and famous pupil.
Pike’s soft authoritative voice pronounces that he’s happy for them, that Jim needs someone to keep him on a leash - for this people titter and Jim grins, unrepentant - and “Spock, didn’t I tell you when I made Jim your XO that it wasn’t a prank.” The Vulcan’s response is a nod followed a look of deep satisfaction when Jim surreptitiously lays a hand on his thigh under the table and doesn’t look in his direction.
No one is confused by the remark. It’s universal knowledge these days, all the details of that tragedy which united what would become the most outstanding crew in decades - the five year mission isn’t even over yet, but already their names are well-known.
McCoy casts an eye over to the Vulcan table, silent, politely watching the proceedings, and he wonders what they think of this. Their faces are perfectly blank but the fact that all those invited RSVP, showed well-versed in ‘Human joining traditions’ and presented thoughtful gifts upon the couple says something about the shifting consensus regarding Humans and non-Vulcans in general within their society.
Too quickly, it’s his turn, Uhura’s introducing him and Jim’s looking to him, unable to decide between dread or pleased anticipation. A little wobbly from all the gin, startled by the eyes, sensors and snouts suddenly pointed in his direction, he stands and clears his throat, reminding himself that he’s Doctor Leonard McCoy dammit, Chief Surgeon of the USS Enterprise - he’s faced down Klingons, travelled through time and survived being shot at by angry natives - this should be easy.
“Well… um the first time I met Jim it was on a shuttle bound for Starfleet….” McCoy starts, and almost immediately Jim tenses, painfully awaiting the upcoming humiliation stories that people usually like to drag out at events like this. He leaves the boy hanging for a long moment because there’s something enjoyable about a nervous Jim Kirk, but decides to save the truly good stuff for Spock. He tells everyone so and the crowd titters while Jim blushes just the slightest bit, grateful but wary of what that’s going to cost him.
He talks about Jim taking care of him after that infamous first shuttle ride/meeting where he throws up after they get off, the way Jim took to Starfleet and found his place there, Jim asking him ‘Who is that pointy-eared bastard?’ and his reply, ‘I don’t know… but I like him.’ He skips over the part where he sneaks Jim aboard the Enterprise as they warp off to Vulcan, because even if it’s all forgiven, done and dusted, there’s a lot of Starfleet toes to avoid tonight. He navigates around anything too feely-touchy, settles on a good old-fashioned toast about how looking after Jim’s a full-time job, and how Spock’s perfect for it really - all that unflappable calm.
“I’m proud of ya, Jim.” He says roughly, because the boy had snuck up on him and he considered Jim an underfoot little brother before he knew it. “Never thought I’d live to see the day - well, actually I never thought you’d live to see the day.”
Around him, people share in chuckles over the dig; Jim’s reputation for heroics precedes him. No one gets that he means it, that he honestly used to be afraid for Jim’s mortality, except for Admiral Pike who casts him a knowing smile. McCoy fixes Spock with a serious look and points a finger at the man. “You do your job, Commander, and keep this one alive - or you’ll be answering to me, you hear?”
“Yes, Doctor. I believe that is in the job description of spouse.” The Vulcan replies without a hint of irony, eyes warm though nothing moves on his face. Those that get what’s happened - a Vulcan has just made a joke - are all caught between laughter and wide-eyed amazement. It’s a special day, or so Jim tells him.
Besides him, Jim knocks their shoulders together playfully and slings an arm around Spock’s shoulder. Only the presence of a third of the crew, Starfleet’s top brass and sixty dignitaries stop them from making out like teenagers. He’s caught them before - he’d prefer to avoid the sight again, even though secretly he’s happy for Jim, to be devoted to something, to have something to live for. There’s no kissing, instead their arms are pressed together, hands no doubt entangled underneath the table in a Vulcan kiss.
There is applause and the Enterprise crew who are present whistle at him, Sulu yelling out from the next table over that he can’t stop there, that he demands to know embarrassing stories about his captain - why, Mr. Spock won’t even appreciate them! McCoy waves them away, ignores Sulu because the boy has had just a little too much to drink and sits down with his bourbon, happy to have done his bit.
Uhura takes it from there, gets the band to start playing again and wanders back to her seat. He turns around and taps her on the back when she finally sits down at her table, just behind him. “You did well.”
Her grin is infectious, “Thanks, you too.”
“Want to dance?” He offers, holding out a hand.
He dances with her for a bit, their conversation light, revolving mostly around where they’re going to spend the well-deserved shore leave they’ve been allotted while Jim and Spock disappear off wherever. He passes her off to Scotty just as something which sounds like historical swing starts up. The Chief Engineer whispers something with a sly grin as they spin that makes her throw her head back in laughter. McCoy’s ready for another drink and so heads back to the bar. This time, Jim does the swooping, dropping down in the barstool next to him and leaning against his shoulder.
“Look what you made me do,” he grumbles, eying the spilt bourbon on the bar counter. He shrugs Jim off. “Are you abandoning him now?”
Jim is blunt as always, a broad grin on his face. “There are some things that Spock should never know. Good speech, you had me there for a moment.”
McCoy chuckles and throws his drink back. “Don’t worry. Anything I tell Spock will only be to reinforce what he already knows - you’re a walking disaster, but you always save the day.”
“Aww Bones you do love me.”
“So what if I do.” He grumbles under his breath, cocking an eyebrow at Jim in challenge. “Lord knows its a thankless job but I do it anyway.”
Jim beams at him like he's just promised him that he can keep the Enterprise forever.
“Enjoy the party, Bones, and don’t drink too much.”
Like hell, he thinks to himself, especially since Starfleet’s footing the bill. He deliberately gestures to the barman for another and turns around to watch Jim’s back as the man returns to Spock’s side. The Vulcan is speaking to Nogura and his group, but he reacts instantly to Jim’s presence. He catches a glimpse of Spock’s hands, tucked behind his back, opening in expectation as Jim sneaks up from behind. Jim slides his hand in and Spock’s hand closes around it, squeezing gently. The admirals have no idea and continue talking, with a brief nod to Jim.
McCoy takes another sip, swirling the bourbon around in his mouth and grins secretly to himself.
A/N - wow I am evolving - I think I just wrote fluff. Hope you enjoyed and please review :)