![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Finding the Language of Forgiveness
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Pairing: McCoy/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Spock needs to make amends but McCoy isn't a man for flowers.
Word count: ~6,300
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: Yes!
Note: I am determined to finish this damn bingo line but the fics keep getting long. SHUT UP, MCCOY. *laugh*
"You pointy-earred –" McCoy cut the words off at a side-eye from Spock. Plenty of bastards thought they knew the Vulcan, thought he was cold and unfeeling. They obviously had never bothered to look in his damn eyes, especially when McCoy was pushing the boundaries between them like it was his full-time job.
They were standing close enough to whisper and Jim wasn't paying attention anyway. "I'm just saying, that's an underhanded damn trick. It's illogical."
Spock's eyebrow was louder than McCoy's hissing (at least McCoy thought so but he didn't get a say in things, apparently, and wasn't that just the way things always went) – but more subtle. A few of the other guests sniffed their disapproval (as though McCoy cared what a bunch of simpering goddamn dignitaries thought of him) and drifted away, but the looks were all directed at McCoy. None for Spock, for all he had started the... McCoy hesitated to call it a fight.
They hadn't fought at all, no serious disagreements beyond their usual manners – and even that felt more like foreplay these days – since the night McCoy had barged into Spock's quarters in pursuit of what they both wanted. Spock had been waiting – the door had been open; there had been remarkably little barging for all McCoy characterized it that way.
McCoy had more practice with the bond now, too. And he could feel the upset rolling off of Spock in waves, even though they were reluctant, like a tide going out instead of coming back in.
( Read more. )
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Pairing: McCoy/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Spock needs to make amends but McCoy isn't a man for flowers.
Word count: ~6,300
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Feedback: Yes!
Note: I am determined to finish this damn bingo line but the fics keep getting long. SHUT UP, MCCOY. *laugh*
"You pointy-earred –" McCoy cut the words off at a side-eye from Spock. Plenty of bastards thought they knew the Vulcan, thought he was cold and unfeeling. They obviously had never bothered to look in his damn eyes, especially when McCoy was pushing the boundaries between them like it was his full-time job.
They were standing close enough to whisper and Jim wasn't paying attention anyway. "I'm just saying, that's an underhanded damn trick. It's illogical."
Spock's eyebrow was louder than McCoy's hissing (at least McCoy thought so but he didn't get a say in things, apparently, and wasn't that just the way things always went) – but more subtle. A few of the other guests sniffed their disapproval (as though McCoy cared what a bunch of simpering goddamn dignitaries thought of him) and drifted away, but the looks were all directed at McCoy. None for Spock, for all he had started the... McCoy hesitated to call it a fight.
They hadn't fought at all, no serious disagreements beyond their usual manners – and even that felt more like foreplay these days – since the night McCoy had barged into Spock's quarters in pursuit of what they both wanted. Spock had been waiting – the door had been open; there had been remarkably little barging for all McCoy characterized it that way.
McCoy had more practice with the bond now, too. And he could feel the upset rolling off of Spock in waves, even though they were reluctant, like a tide going out instead of coming back in.
( Read more. )
