#*grumble grumble* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sleepymccoy · 2 months

Text

An intimacy, a surprise

Chapter one: Rather a good pair

McCoy spun the lady, Heather, around comfortably. They were dancing well under a speed that would challenge him. She knew the steps, and when she stumbled she stayed with him enough that he could keep them moving until she found her feet. He rather suspected she was stumbling more than natural, given how much she laughed when he picked her up slightly.

It all reminded him of Joanna.

The song came to an end, Heather laughed breathlessly as he placed her back down on her feet. She was likely thirty years older than him, but her joy for life was stronger than anyone he regularly knew. She was as thin as they come, he hoped she lived for another century. He thanked her, kissed her hand, and left for the bar.

With a thin glass of bubbly in hand he surveyed the room. Couples moved across the floor at varying degrees of skill. Still, colourful and pretty.

As he scanned his focus caught on Spock. Spock, at the same damn conference as him. He could see why, novel biology was up both their alleys really. But it still annoyed him.

But Spock looked nice now, expressionless (per usual) but fixated on the spinning pairs revolving across the room. His eyes flitted from one to another, interest held entirely.

McCoy picked up a second glass and launched off from the comfort of the bar.

“Want to dance?” he asked as he stood next to Spock.

He didn't flinch, probably heard him approach with those finely tuned, pointy ears.

“I am attempting to learn the basics,” Spock said softly. He didn't take his eyes off the floor.

McCoy placed his spare glass down by the crumbed prawn canapes. Prawn. On Mars. Heavens above who would eat seafood so far from natural water?

McCoy followed Spock's gaze and found a rather showy pair. The man's silly long tux flew behind him as they spun.

“Well, you won't manage that watching them,” McCoy muttered.

“Oh?”

“Them? He's trained in tango, but she's trying for classic.” He took as sip and decided Spock's silence was curious, not bored. “He keeps raising his arms in the hold and it's throwing her off. They're good at dips, but she keeps losing her balance on the straight stretches because they're dancing different dances.”

Spock sniffed in sharply. “Are they all dancing differently?”

McCoy hummed, swallowing his mouthful. “Everyone's making it up. Those two -” he pointed across the room at who he meant “- might've done a class, but likely not. These two near us are good at a slow waltz, but as soon as it speeds up they get messy.”

Spock turned and faced him. McCoy followed suit, giving him his attention. Face to face like this they stood slightly closer than usual.

“What are the basic steps?” Spock asked.

McCoy put his half glass of bubbly down and held his arms out, one hand hovering over Spock's waist while the other waited for his hand. “Let’s box step. I'll lead.”

Spock moved slowly, then hesitantly placed his hand in McCoy's waiting one. Their fingers dragged against each other, with Spock's hand just resting on his, not holding.

McCoy took Spock's other hand and lifted it to his shoulder. “Put your hand here,” he said. Spock’s hand sat lightly on his shoulder, touching the edge of his collar. “And -” he sighed and pulled Spock by their joined hands, “a bit closer, please, Mr. Spock - let me take a hold you.”

Spock stepped in as directed, and McCoy placed his hand on Spock's waist. Spock tensed on contact, so much muscle in him.

“That's right,” McCoy breathed. He moved his hand to Spock's lower back, holding him solidly, and took his hand properly. “Do you feel stable?”

Spock frowned at him. “Of course.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. Never mind all that politeness, then. “Right,” he snapped. “Box step, follow me.”

You can keep reading under the readmore or click this link to ao3

McCoy telegraphed his movements obviously until Spock got the swing of it, muttering vague encouragement and advice as he did.

Once they were moving smoothly he spoke. “Okay, look at me now.”

Spock looked up, glancing down every moment they took a step to ensure he followed.

“The steps aren't changing, Spock. Here-” he pulled Spock close, tugging him in by the waist. Their bodies pressed together firmly and, to McCoy pleasure and relief, Spock didn't withdraw.

He stepped the path of their dance slowly, exaggerating again. Spock followed with a breath of delay, keeping their thighs close. “You can feel what my legs are doing, yes?” McCoy whispered. “I'm pressed against you, so you don't need to see me move, you can feel it.”

They continued, Spock clinging to him like a coat of paint. Steadily they picked up speed, grace. A few times McCoy felt Spock move with a strength that was not helpful in someone meant to be following. McCoy would let it slide for now, but if they got up to spinning he was going to have to pull rank.

“What do you think?”

“There is more than just this.”

“Yes, but this is what we always return to,” McCoy said easily. “So you want it to be second nature. Is the amount of touch okay?”

Spock smirked. “Vulcan dance is far more intimate.”

“I recall you describing it before,” McCoy muttered. “Wouldn't've been my first guess. Knowing you, I've been left assuming all Vulcans are stuck up prudes.”

“Doctor, I must be allowed my eccentricities,” Spock said lowly, “but I am still Vulcan.”

“Don't I know it.”

Spock hadn't missed a beat as they spoke, he was quite the natural. Not that McCoy would tell him. “Want to try for a dip?” he suggested instead.

Spock raised his eyebrow. “You are in the lead.”

“Doesn't mean I'm in charge.”

They continued stepping together in perfect pattern.

“Yes, then,” Spock said.

McCoy talked him through it first. Spock's attention on him was absolute. “On the back step, the first we took, I'll turn you to the side. My hand will stay on your waist, but I'm letting go here.” As he spoke he released Spock's hand and placed his on Spock's trap.

“Your free hand goes to my shoulder, or wherever suits you. And then you dip. To the side. Do it shallow first so you know what coming out of it's like.”

Spock nodded. They reset their hands and continued to dance. McCoy muttered a warning, then turned them to the side. He pushed Spock back slightly, then kept his hands steady to show it was safe. Spock swayed back, his eyes unreadable on McCoy, then slowly returned to standing.

McCoy tried to keep the momentum of their dance, but there was something astounding in Spock's slow movement that broke the pattern. Still, they had to step. “And back into- there you are,” McCoy muttered. He cleared his throat. “Alright?”

“Indeed,” Spock said easily. “A simple process.”

McCoy kept the usual pattern for a few turns, letting Spock feel it as home.

It wasn't home, though, was it. This was McCoy's home, and Spock was doing well at it. McCoy grinned.

Perhaps it was time for him to step outside his comfort zone. Meet Spock halfway. Besides, all that talk of Vulcan dancing - he still couldn't imagine how Spock would embody it.

“You can be as Vulcan as you like about it, my dear,” McCoy said. “I can handle your culture.”

Spock simply raised his eyebrows.

“Going again,” McCoy warned, then stepped into position and swung Spock back.

Spock went far. His outer leg raised, dragging up along the outside of McCoy's thigh. McCoy had to bend into his lunge to keep balance as Spock leant back.

Spock stopped at the low of the dip, letting McCoy hold him. He trailed his hand down from McCoy's shoulder, dragging slowly down his arm.

McCoy realised he hadn't breathed and pulled Spock back to him. Spock righted himself at speed, almost destabalising McCoy as their chests slammed together.

One of Spock's legs pressed between his, forcing his thighs slightly apart. His other hand remained high and now slowly lowered to the ground. And Spock had, somehow, returned to him with a hand in McCoy's hair which echoed the slow downward drag of his leg, toying gently at his neck.

McCoy stepped forward with the leg between Spock's thighs, pressing into his crotch.

Spock's eyes flashed wish fiery curiosity. He straightened the mirrored leg out in line with McCoy's leg and took the step. McCoy kept him close, like orbits that couldn't split further apart now that they'd come near.

With a moment's hesitation, they took the next step, moving smoothly again. McCoy dragged his hand up Spock's back, feeling his muscles engage as they stepped familiarly. As he did, Spock's hand left his neck and traveled gently down his arm.

Spock gasped in a breath. McCoy turned his face in towards the sound and felt McCoy's skin on his lips. The air was hot here.

McCoy’s hand reached Spock's upper back, so he pulled around to his chest and pushed him into another dip.

Spock resisted for a moment, then went with the movement. His hand gripped McCoy's wrist as he lowered over McCoy's leg. They kept eye contact as Spock bent, and McCoy found himself leaning forward to stay close.

Spock came out of it slowly, and McCoy did some slightly clever footwork without really considering if Spock would keep up. He stepped over Spock, half spinning him to standing. Spock didn't keep up, but he let himself be pulled and placed standing.

They were close, as they tended to be in this dance, McCoy with a hand on Spock's back and another in his hair. Spock began to take McCoy's hand, crawling up from his wrist and pulling it from Spock's hair. McCoy clutched Spock's hand and pressed his other hand’s fingers into Spock's back muscle. He stepped forward, and Spock followed naturally backwards. They returned to the dance.

“You didn't warn me that time,” Spock breathed. His lips brushed McCoy's cheek when he spoke.

McCoy felt Spock's leg press against his thigh on one of the steps, leaving him slightly breathless. He was half hard, Spock was bound to know. He'd likely take it as a cultural compliment, knowing him. Contrary bastard.

“But you knew it was coming,” McCoy said. “We make rather a good pair.”

“We always have done, Doctor.”

McCoy laughed and felt it vibrate back to him through Spock's chest. How wonderful.

“I think we're terrible,” McCoy said.

Spock shook his head and straightened his posture, moving his mouth further from McCoy's. “You are disagreeing out of habit,” he said, his voice back to its usual unaffected way. It wasn't until he spoke now that McCoy realised how low and purring Spock's voice had become.

But he swallowed his interest and shrugged instead. “And you're just naturally condescending,” he said as blandly as he could. It didn’t sound particularly bland, he could hear the shiver in his throat coming through in his voice. Ah well, a man’s gotta try.

Spock smirked. He resisted McCoy's next step forward, bringing them to still. McCoy frowned sharply, then realised the music had been replaced with applause.

He let go of Spock's hand and stepped back. Someone was speaking into a squeaky microphone; the dancing had stopped. McCoy was breathless.

“Well done,” McCoy said quickly. He turned to the table and picked up his glass, downing the half of bubbly that remained. “We can revisit tomorrow night, maybe add spins?”

“Very good, Sir.”

McCoy faced Spock and took him all in. He was flushed, ears green. Gaze steady, but eyes bright. As McCoy looked he stood straighter.

“Night cap?” McCoy offered, his voice hushed as the speech onstage became a serious of slides presented with little commentary.

Spock glanced out at the room, then nodded.

McCoy picked up his remaining full glass of bubbly and led Spock out. “We'll have to sneak it back, I didn't bring a drink with me.”

Spock took the glass from McCoy smoothly and shrugged his long sleeve to cover it.

At McCoy's look he said, “No one questions a Vulcan.”

Well, sure. They nodded at the door attendant and made it to the lobby unchallenged.

“Cute, Spock.”

Spock made a noise of displeasure.

McCoy jabbed the elevator button and leaned against a column, watching the thoroughly innocent Vulcan.

Spock bit his lower lip, but kept his gaze steady on McCoy.

McCoy tilted his head to the side. He was going to kiss this man if something didn't change soon. That was a fucking shock. He breathed out and leaned his head against the column.

Spock broke the eye contact, swallowing hard and glancing up to the elevators current level, then over to a plant.

The lift bell sounded. McCoy laughed emptily, shook his head in disbelief, and slid into the elevator. Nothing had changed. Spock followed.

As the door closed McCoy went to him. His hand found Spock jaw first, his thumb at the corner of his mouth.

Spock went still, facing him, and McCoy continued the movement. He was a hairsbreadth from Spock when the fucker spoke.

“Doctor, they have cameras in the lifts here,” Spock gasped.

McCoy pulled back. What? He frowned. “They do?” he asked. He stepped back, glancing up for a sign of a camera. “What kind of surveillance state bullshit needs cameras in the lifts?” he muttered.

Spock's shoulders dropped. McCoy’s attention returned to him. “Wait, why don't you want to be seen with me on camera?”

Spock let out a sharp sigh. “I don't want to be seen doing anything on camera.”

McCoys head moved smoothly as he considered that, ending in a slow negative shake. “There are cameras on the Enterprise,” he disagreed.

Spock hesitated. His hand, the one not still subtly hiding McCoy's glass of bubbly, gripped the handrail. “I have never attempted to dance with you on board.”

McCoy nodded. He kept nodding as he thought.

Not on the Enterprise. That suited him quite well, really. Keep work at work.

He hadn't begun to dissect Spock's behaviour tonight, but this made sense in a way some deep seated romance didn't. He was surprised there was anything on Spock's part, but he wasn't shocked.

He wasn't going to even start on himself, though.

“Have I offended you, Doctor?

McCoy grinned sourly. “Whether private or public, Spock, dear, if you're thinking about kissing me you call me Leonard.”

Spock was quiet. The bell chimed and the doors slid open.

McCoy kept watching Spock. He needed something to go off, something to react to or he'd just get angry. But Spock simply left the elevator.

McCoy followed. “No, why the hell won't you kiss me on camera, hm?” he asked.

Spock turned his face towards McCoy once to indicate where his attention was. Their rooms, absurdly and coincidentally across from each other, were at the end of the long corridor.

“You object to my preference for privacy?” Spock asked, continuing to walk away quickly.

“Who's watching that'll care? On the ship, sure, but no one gives a fig about us here!”

Spock didn't respond. McCoy considered shouting at him, but decided he would probably not live that down.

They reached their shared end of the corridor. Spock opened his own door deftly and face McCoy.

“Are you coming in?” he asked.

“With an invitation like that, I'd prefer a lobotomy!” McCoy snapped. He turned and wrestled his own door open before Spock responded, slamming it behind him.

His body tingled with electric heat and anger. He groaned and raised his hands to his face. “Fuck.”

He was still fucking hard.

A couple of words occurred to him, and with them was an excuse to return. He threw his door open and strode across the hallway. Spock had left his door slightly ajar, McCoy was going to absolutely fuck him into the ground for that.

He let himself in and closed the door.

Spock stood at the window, lone wine glass on the table next to him. He turned silently and faced McCoy, his face again blank.

“I don't mind a one night stand,” McCoy snapped, “keeping it as quiet as you like, what I mind is the suggestion that you should be embarrassed to be found.”

“I do not feel embarrassment.”

McCoy waved his arms, immediately furious. “Liar!” He pointed at Spock. “More importantly, you feel desire.”

Spock shrugged. “That is physical.”

McCoy crossed the floor to him, aware that his tone was nearly a rant. “So’s embarrassment. And fear, and fucking joy when you get down to it.”

He drew up next to Spock, standing right by him. Spock turned slowly and met his gaze squarely.

“You let your emotions rule you more than the average human does,” Spock said. Bitchily. Like a little bitch.

McCoy swallowed, there was some emotion caught up in his throat. “Someone's got to make up for you,” he said. His voice was softer than he intended.

“I am not embarrassed,” Spock complained. “Why should I share such a moment with any other?”

McCoy frowned and swallowed again. He sighed heartily and glared at the corner of the room for a beat. Such a moment. Fuck.

“That was a bit romantic, Spock,” McCoy pointed out.

“No it wasn't.”

McCoy laughed, surprising himself with it. “You're disagreeing out of habit,” he snapped.

Spock raised his eyebrow. “And are you not condescending?”

McCoy grinned, irritation and lust both rising in him. “You piss me off,” he said forcefully.

“Like I say, a slave to your emotions.”

“Private enough for you in here?”

Spock’s eyes glanced at the door, then the window. “Yes.”

And so McCoy risked the universe, and kissed him.

Click here to read the rest on ao3, there's another 18 chapters <3

#spones #spones fic #man i hope the readmore is in an appropriate spot #so hard to gauge how long thisll be on mobile #i don't want ot give people an awful wall of text #but i also want to get to the point where they dance or you won't have the hook #grumble grumble #anyway theres 17 of 19 chpaters posted!#and the last two are posting in the next few days

19 notes · View notes