The Proposal
Title: The Proposal
Rating: PG
Pairing: Spock/McCoy
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Written for prompt here. A bully from Spock's past asks for his hand in marriage, but Spock pretends he's already married. To McCoy.
Had he been less than Vulcan, Spock would have let his jaw drop in something akin to shock. As it was, he merely raised his eyebrow and turned to the hauntingly familiar voice behind him.
“Could you repeat your inquiry?” he asked, facing the Vulcan who had humiliated him as a child.
“I…request your hand in marriage.” Spock saw a light dusting of green on the other man’s cheeks.
“Curious,” he stated, tilting his head. “From past experience, it does not appear logical to request such a thing.”
The past-bully shifted almost nervously. “It was… unfortunate, then. I did not know how to approach the subject of my…desires without being emotional and weak.”
“Human, you mean?” It is a bitter statement, even if there is no feeling.
The full Vulcan stood straight, looked Spock in the eye. “I have overcome those differences, come to terms with them.”
Spock listened, for a minute, to the echo of feet down the hall. He knew this bully, could hear the truth in the words even if he didn’t want to believe it, and he did not want to marry this man. The doctor’s footsteps were only a moment away - it sparked an idea in Spock.
“Indeed. As have I. However, I cannot accept your request in marriage or bond, as I am already married.”
The shock appeared visible for only a second before it was swept away in the calm façade of all Vulcans in control of themselves. “To whom, may I ask?”
Bones turned the corner, glaring down at a padd with a stylus between his lips, stopping at beside the Vulcan and the half-Vulcan. “Spock,” he began slowly, lifting his eyes to meet his friend’s. “Can you make any sense of this? I think it’s in another language.” Really, he figured he should have gone to Uhura - she was the linguist, after all - but she was on the bridge patching through calls into and out of the newest Vulcan colonies.
Spock reached out to take the padd from the doctor, fingers brushing innocently enough, but not innocent enough for McCoy, who raised his brow in an imitation of the full-Vulcan.
“I see,” he said, staring between his desire and the doctor. “I will take my leave.” He nodded, and then left.
“Spock, I do believe you just kissed me.”
“Nonsense, doctor.” Spock grabbed one of McCoy’s hands, folded down two fingers so that the other two were held out. He rubbed his fingers against Bones’, eyes fluttering. “That, doctor, is a kiss.”
And then, he, too, left.
“Damn tease.”