Spock/McCoy; Rated PG-13; festival, humor
"Someone's got to talk to him about it."
"I think it should be you," Captain James Kirk said, looking pointedly at his CMO.
"Why me?" Doctor Leonard McCoy countered. "You're his captain."
"You're his lover!"
Uhura stepped in. "I'll do it. I can be tactful." 'Unlike you men' was the implication.
McCoy sighed. "No, Jim's right, I should be the one to do it." He got up from the mess hall table and walked toward the door, muttering under his breath, "My fault, anyway."
~ * ~
It was two days before McCoy worked the courage up to talk to Spock about his "problem." Normally Bones was an outspoken, sometimes caustic person, but when it came to his bondmate... the relationship was new and he didn't want to do or say anything to cause the "honeymoon" to come to a crashing halt.
He chose to do it after dinner, when Spock was somewhat relaxed. They were sitting on the couch, Spock drinking a glass of Denebian spring water and McCoy nursing a mint julep.
It's now or never. He took a deep breath. "Spock?"
"We need to talk."
The serious tone in McCoy's voice caused Spock to put down his drink and turn to face his t'hy'la. "I hope you are not regretting--"
McCoy shook his head and cut Spock off. "Of course, not." He put his hand on Spock's knee, squeezing, reassuring. "I'm the luckiest guy in the universe. How could I have regrets?"
Spock raised his eyebrows and a smile played about the corners of his mouth. "I think I could get used to flattery."
"Yes, well..." The nervousness was taking over again. "Do you remember when we decided we'd try new things? For each other?"
"I remember well. Is there something more?"
Like a ship jumping to warp, an idea popped into McCoy's head: the perfect solution. "Actually, there is," he answered, sliding closer to Spock and idly spelling out 'fuck me' on the Vulcan's neck with his fingers. "I'd like for you to stop wearing the thong underwear."
"Are you sure? You seemed quite... adamant... that you wanted me to try them."
Various images of Spock danced before McCoy's eyes: Spock on the bridge, picking at his butt; Spock in the mess hall, picking at his butt; Spock on the transporter padd, ready to beam down to a planet... picking his butt. Clearly the thong was not working out.
"I'm sure," McCoy said, nodding. "I'd like for you to try something else, if you don't mind."
Spock had warmed under his lover's touch, especially when he figured out what McCoy was spelling. "What would you like me to wear instead?" His eyes twinkled as his hands reached for the waistband of McCoy's pants.
With a wicked smile, McCoy leaned forward and whispered into Spock's ear, "Nothing."
Challenge: Write a S/Mc about one of Spock's bad habits.