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From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Date: Sat, 5 Jun 2004 18:08:04 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW TOS Blame it on Midnight [R]  K/Mc, K/S (implied) 1/2  kirkmccoyfest
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Title: "Blame it on Midnight"
Author: T'Thrill
Romance Codes: K/Mc, K/S (implied) 
Rating: R - m/m
Summary:  Written for the 2003-2004 KirkMcCoyfest .
This, like all my stories, can be found on my webpage 
T'Thrill's Den of Trek Delights:  (Once I am free to do so per 
fest rules)
http://www.geocities.com/tthrill1612/

Warning:  This story contains m/m sexual situations.  If you 
are not interested in and/or are offended by such things, you 
will find reading this a complete waste of your time, so please 
move on.  If you are under 18 years of age, please move on, 
as well.

Disclaimer: Copyright 2004 by T'Thrill. This is an original 
work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek. This work makes 
"fair use" of Star Trek copyrighted material; it is not intended 
to infringe on the intellectual property rights of Paramount, 
Viacom or other owners of copyright in Star Trek or any of 
their assignees or licensees. The author's copyright extends 
only to the original material in this work.

Archive:  Okay to archive in KirkMcCoyfest, ASCEM, 
BLTS, and COCO-SSD, provided that header, disclaimers, 
my name, and email address are all attached. All others please 
ask. My email address is TThrill1612@aol.com

Acknowledgments:  Once again, Selek has been so very kind 
to beta a story for me.  Without his guidance, I would post 
little more than nonsense.  Thank you, my friend.


Until you've been beside a man
You don't know what he wants
You don't know if he cries at night
You don't know if he don't
When nothin' comes easy
Old nightmares are real
Until you've been beside a man
You don't know how he feels

Bob Seger - Shame on the Moon


Chapter 1/2


Leonard McCoy was hunched over the latest quarterly fitness 
reports, readying them to be forward on to the captain, when 
he heard the doors to sickbay slide open and shut.  Almost 
2200 hours, ship's time.  He didn't need to look up.  He had 
no doubt that it was Jim.  Their esteemed captain had been 
badgering him for these very reports for over a week. 
Leonard knew that Jim needed to review them before handing 
them over to Starfleet Command, and that like everything 
else, his commander liked things done in a neat, timely 
manner, but time to do anything as mundane as reports had 
been a real premium lately.

Little would it matter that he'd spent the last twenty-six hours 
in surgery patching up the latest landing party, or that with 
trying to get the last of the reports finished, sleep was nothing 
more than a distant, elusive memory.  "Hold your horses!  I 
said I'd have 'em to you in the hour, and I meant it!  I'm just 
looking over the last of 'em now," he grumbled.  Everyone 
onboard was on edge, including him.

He expected Jim to step closer, perch himself on the edge of 
the desk, cross his arms, and offer a redundant comment that 
stemmed more from frustration than anything else.  With the 
mission coming to an end, it'd been that kind of a week.  Not 
only was every department under the gun to get all the final 
checks done, but to top it off they'd run into a nasty situation 
on Theolis 7 that had damned near cost them the away team.  
It had been Jim's resourcefulness, as usual, that had saved the 
day.  Still, there had been a few injuries, two that had been 
serious, but this time, thankfully, no casualties to report.  It 
was the continued, unexpected stillness and silence that 
finally forced McCoy's eyes away from the display on the 
screen and toward the office door.  What he saw was a man 
devoid of all color, looking like he was about to collapse.  
"My God, Jim!  What the hell's wrong?" McCoy gasped, 
rising quickly from his chair.

"Have you seen him?  Did he tell you?" Jim asked.

"Who?  Tell me what?  Jim, what's happened?" McCoy 
demanded, reaching his commander, and more importantly 
his friend, and grasping him by the biceps.

"Spock.  Have you talked to him?  Do you know?"

"Jim, I haven't seen Spock in four days.  Hell, I haven't so 
much as stepped a foot outta sickbay in that long."  He led 
Jim to the chair he just vacated.  After Jim had fallen into the 
seat, Leonard reached in his top drawer and pulled out a 
bottle of whiskey.  He didn't know what had happened, but he 
could still tell when a man was in desperate need of a drink.  
He retrieved a glass from the file drawer and poured a hefty 
shot.  He knew that Jim wasn't scheduled to report to the 
bridge for another two shifts, so offering him alcohol now 
wouldn't even be breaking any regulations.  "Here, drink 
this," he ordered, as he set the glass down on the desk.

Wrapping his hand tightly around the glass, for a second 
Leonard thought Jim just might fling it across the office.  If 
that's what it took, so be it.  There was more where that came 
from.  Instead, Jim tilted it toward his lips, threw his head 
back, and downed the liquor in one large gulp.  Setting the 
glass back down, he breathed through the heat, "So, you don't 
know.  You haven't heard."

Feeling a sympathetic stab in his gut, Leonard realized that 
the pain radiating from his friend's eyes was more contagious 
than any microbe he'd ever run across.  "No, I haven't heard a 
thing.  Take a minute, then tell me what's goin' on," Leonard 
soothed, settling himself in Jim's normal spot on the desktop.

Jim nodded, and then seemed to take a deep breath before he 
continued.  "Spock's leaving the service.  He's already 
prepared his resignation.  As soon as the debriefings are 
finished, he's gone.  He's going back to Vulcan...to…to be 


bonded!"

Of all the scenarios that had run through Leonard's mind in 
the last few seconds, he hadn't even considered this as a 
possibility.  "Bonded?  Who?  Surely not T'Pring!"

Jim held out the glass.  Leonard refilled it.  "No, not T'Pring.  
To a woman whose bondmate was the captain on the Intrepid.  
Seems she's been without a bondmate since that ship was 
destroyed, and Spock's all too willing to apply for the job," he 
said, bitterly.

"But I thought the two of you...I mean, y'all have been 
together for over two years.  I just assumed 
that…someday…it would be *you* and Spock taking that 
 
step together," Leonard stammered.

"So did I, although we never really talked about it.  We were 
together, and that's all that mattered.  At least, that's what I 
thought.  We agreed that we'd wait until the end of the 
mission to make any decisions.  Well, the mission is ending, 
so tonight I made it official.  I asked him to marry me."

Leonard retrieved another glass.  After pouring himself a 
shot, and refilling Jim's, again, he managed, "I have to assume 
the answer was 'No'."

"No?" Jim clucked humorlessly.  "No, I could've handled.  At 
least I could have debated that.  'Impossible' is more like it.  
Oh, and 'illogical', of course!"

"Jim, there's gotta be some mistake.  I've never seen 
Spock…well, as blissful as he's been in these last years.  My 


God!  The man actually lights up in your presence.  Always 
has."

Jim shook his head.  "No mistake, Bones.  I've spent the last 
two hours going over and over it, and I know what was said."

Leonard absentmindedly stared at his glass as he turned it 
around in his hand.  It was as if he was looking for answers in 
the hypnotic, amber-colored sparkle caused by the reflection 
of the overhead light.  When no answer came, he downed the 
liquid.  "Spock leavin' you for a woman, or anyone else for 
that matter, just doesn't make sense.  Oh, sure, he's had a 
couple'a brief dalliances, but even those can be explained 
away due to the circumstances.  The fact that he's made this 
choice really surprises me.  After the mess with T'Pring, I 
never thought Spock would consider bonding with woman.  
Hell, after you two got together, I never though he would 
consider bonding with *anyone* else."

"Neither did I," Jim answered, the depths of the defeat he was 
feeling coming through loud and clear.

Leonard was sure that something serious had happened to 
cause Spock to make this decision.  As much as he hated 
himself for thinking it, only one possibility came to mind.  
"Jim, don't get me wrong, but you haven't...?  What I mean is, 
we both know that you've had your share of...let's just say, 
extracurricular activities.  Did you...?"

Jim shook his head emphatically.  "No!  No one.  Not since 
Miramanee.  That's when Spock and I made the commitment 
to each other, and there hasn't been anyone since."

It had been two years, eight months, and an odd amount of 
days since the Enterprise had been forced to abandon Jim in 
an attempt to chase down and divert the asteroid bearing 
down on the Preserver planet.  Spock had been commanding 
the ship when the attempt had failed, frying the warp engines 
in the process.  It was during the two months they spent 
crawling back to the planet on nothing more than impulse 
engines, during which time he and Spock were constantly at 
each other's throats, that he had first begun to suspect the true 
nature of Spock's feelings for Jim.

Although they knew Jim must still be on the planet, they 
didn't know for sure if he was still alive, or if they could reach 
him in time.  During those weeks of failure and uncertainty, 
Spock had repeatedly refused food, rest, and had frequently 
handed command over to either Scotty or Sulu in deference to 
his obsession with the symbols that had been found on the 
obelisk.  It wasn't long before Leonard realized it was an 
obsession born out of guilt for leaving Jim on the planet, and 
a nearly overwhelming fear that his actions had cost him any 
future with the one person he'd ever dared to love.  With those 
factors combined, they had driven Spock closer to insanity 
than Leonard had ever imagined possible, or ever wanted to 
see again.  It was Spock's willingness to sacrifice everything--
himself, the crew, and the ship--on the slim chance that Jim 
could be rescued that made this newest development seem so 
unbelievable.

After his return to the ship, Jim had run headlong into his own 
demons, specifically the tragic and senseless death of 
Mirimanee and her unborn child--his child.  It was during the 
dark days that followed that Jim and Spock had finally been 
forced to face up to what they had both tried so hard to deny: 
their feelings for each other. As far as Leonard knew, neither 
man had been involved with anyone since, but with Jim's 
history, it had been a logical conclusion.  "Sorry.  I had to 
ask," he sighed.  "Jim, from what I've observed, I'd bet money 
on the fact that Spock really loves you.  That's saying a 
hellava lot for a Vulcan.  There has to be a *reason* for his 
decision!"

Jim propped his elbows on the desktop and swirled the liquid 
around in his glass.  "There is.  I'm neither Vulcan, nor 
female.  Therein lies the problem."

"You wanna explain that?  It hasn't been a problem up until 
now, has it?"

Jim shut his eyes and slowly rubbed the glass across his 
forehead.  The depth of the pain radiating from Jim's face was 
like a knife twisting in Leonard's gut.  "Didn't seem to be.  
According to him, the fact that I'm a male actually served to 
make me more appealing."

"And the fact that you're human?"

"It was never an issue...until now.  Recently he's been delving 
deeper into the Vulcan disciplines, and his intervals of 
meditation have become longer and more intense.  When I 
saw some information on his terminal regarding Vulcan 
mating rituals, I asked him if was entering into pon farr, but 
he assured me he wasn't.  I just assumed he was planning for 
the time when we could be bonded.  I couldn't have been 
more wrong.  According to Spock, Vulcans choose their 
mates for two reasons: the first is to survive the madness of 
the bloodfever, and second is to procreate.

"Considering Spock's family tree, reproducing seems to be a 
major consideration.  A Vulcan is preferable, and a female 
bondmate makes things a lot easier in the baby-making 
department.  That makes me unacceptable all the way around.  
I tried to tell him that with the medical advances available 
today, it was certainly possible for us to have a child, but 
even that didn't help.  It seems that although Vulcans allow 
for homosexual bondmates, it's a choice that's considered to 
be based on emotion instead of logic, which is another issue 
that Spock isn't willing to deal with.  Logic!  Imagine that!  
God forbid that we should have a marriage based on the fact 
that we love one another!"  Jim tossed the third shot down his 
throat, and held out the glass once more.  This time, Leonard 
took it away.

"Getting drunk isn't the answer, Jim," Leonard said, gripping 
both empty glasses.

"Maybe not, but it's the best one I can come up with for now," 
Jim spat, folding his arms on top of the desk.

"I take it that Spock didn't just decide on this bond tonight?" 
Leonard asked, steering Jim's thoughts away from more 
alcohol.

"No, he didn't.  He's been arranging this for the last ten 
weeks!  Over two months, and not a word to me!"  The bitter 
tone in Jim's voice was growing more and more venomous, 
and Leonard hoped the calming effects of the whisky would 
kick in soon.  "Of course, that didn't keep him from fucking 
me on a regular basis!" Jim continued.  "When I asked him 
about that, he said it would have been illogical to end a 
mutually satisfying relationship just because this bond was 
being negotiated!  God dammit!"

Leonard refrained from mentioning the fact that, according to 
the physical exams he'd performed on both of them, the 
fucking seemed to be fairly mutual.  The slightly decreased 
muscular tension in Spock's anus was a pretty good indicator 
that he wasn't *always* on the giving end.  There are just 
some things you can't hide from your old country doctor!  Not 
only that, Leonard knew Spock could act as cold as anyone 
he'd ever met, but for the most part that was a facade, and not 
a very good one. Certainly this degree of calculation didn't 
sound like the Vulcan he'd come to know and, in truth, 
respect.  Leonard suspected that this version of the story was 
somewhat lop-sided, and that once Jim calmed down he'd 
hear the rest of it.  But that wasn't what was important right 
now.  Jim was hurting.  That's all that mattered.  It was his job 
to help his friend hold the pieces together.

Leonard sat the glasses off to the side, then reached over and 
laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.  "Damn, Jim, I'm really 
sorry.  I know I've had my doubts, maybe even expressed 
them more than I should've, but I'd really begun to believe 
that things were gonna work out for the two of you, even 
against all the odds."

Jim looked up.  "Thanks, Bones, so did I, but it seems you 
were right all along.  I don't know how.  You sure must have 
seen something that I missed."

Leonard shook his head.  "Jim, I'm no fortune teller.  I never 
for a second thought something like this would happen.  My 
concerns stemmed from the exact reasons I told you at the 
time I found out that you and he were lovers.  With Spock 
being your second-in-command, I thought it'd be the 
pressures of the job that would get in the way.  I was afraid 
that the two of you bein' together would pose serious 
problems to the mission, even to the point of puttin' this ship 
and crew at risk.  I don't know how you did it, but y'all 
managed to prove me wrong.  Somehow the two of you never 
allowed your personal relationship to carry over onto the 
bridge."

Jim looked away, wistfulness replacing the anger that had 
shown from that face just moments before.  "It was hard, 
especially on those occasions when I had to knowingly place 
him in danger.  But on that first night together, the night when 
we finally admitted what had been in our hearts all along, we 
agreed that the only way it could work was to keep our 
personal and professional lives separate.  Now I find out that 
there was a lot more separating us than just the job."

Jim drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly, as he put his 
head down on his folded arms, and sighed, "My God, Bones!  
What the hell am I supposed to do without him?"

Leonard laid his hand on Jim's head and began gently 
stroking it.  "I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you'll go 
on," he soothed.  There were few people in the galaxy who 
had ever been allowed to witness Jim Kirk with his guard 
completely down, and Leonard was one of them, but even 
he'd never seen his friend this shattered.  In truth, Spock 
wasn't the only one on board who was good at hiding behind 
a facade.  It was perhaps the one area in which his two friends 
were perfectly matched.

With Leonard, Jim had the freedom to release the emotions 
that he couldn't allow anyone else--even to some extent, 
Spock--to see.  The crew trusted Jim to lead them, guide 
them, and even insure their very survival, and it was difficult 
for them to realize that even heroes have their breaking point.  
And in their eyes, that's exactly what Jim Kirk was.  Although 
Leonard had respected, maybe even loved, the man from the 
beginning, there was never an element of hero-worship that 
stood between them.  Because of that, a deep sense of trust 
had formed between them from almost the first day.  Over 
these five years, there had been countless times when they 
had served as the emotional support for one another.  Leonard 
knew that's exactly what Jim needed from him now, and no 
matter what it took, he was determined not to let him down.

Whatever Spock's reasoning--whether it was good, bad, or as 
Leonard suspected, somewhere in the middle--the mere fact 
that the Vulcan was causing Jim this amount of anguish 
pissed him off.  Jim had to carry the weight of this ship on his 
shoulders.  He certainly didn't need to be dealing with this 
kind of bullshit!  Leonard began to comb his fingers lightly 
through Jim's hair.  Now that Jim had finally given up 
fighting the natural curl, it had darkened a bit.  Leonard found 
that running his fingers through the soft, bronze tangle was 
admittedly pleasurable and threatened to raise the head of 
feelings that had long ago been put to rest.

Once, very early in their friendship, just after Leonard had 
been forced to kill the shape-shifting creature that had 
disguised itself as his old flame, Nancy Crater, he could've 
become Jim's lover.  In the days that followed, he experienced 
a profound need for an emotional connection to another 
person, and Jim had made it clear that his door was open.  
Perhaps it was because of their new, but solid, friendship that 
Jim offered, or maybe he really had believed there could be 
more between them.  Leonard was never sure, and it was 
never discussed.

Not that he hadn't been tempted, even to the point of standing 
in front of Jim's cabin late one evening with his finger 
hovering just above the button that would've signaled his 
presence.  But even then, although he was craving the touch 
of another, Leonard knew he could either be the CMO Jim 
needed, or his lover, but not both.  As Spock was so fond of 
pointing out, he was a man who could easily be led by his 
emotions, and Leonard knew he'd be unable to draw the line, 
no matter how pleasant it may be.  So, he had chosen the 
former of the two options, to be the best CMO possible for 
Jim, and had never stepped through that door.  It was just as 
well, since it wasn't long before he noticed a definite gleam in 
those hazel-gold eyes whenever they looked toward a certain 
first officer, a glimmer of nothing less than endless desire that 
had never been there for anyone else, including him.  But 
now, seeing Jim so torn up, he wondered if he'd made the 
right decision all those years ago.  God knows if he'd ever 
allowed himself to give his heart over to Jim, he'd never hurt 
him, not like this.

"Umm...that feels good," Jim breathed, as Leonard continued 
stroking his fingers through the soft hair.

Leonard thought that Jim had fallen asleep.  He sure needed 
the rest.  He'd been going non-stop for a week, and then 
having to face this kind of disappointment was taking its toll.  
Leaning over, placing his mouth close to Jim's ear, he 
whispered, "Jim, when was the last time you slept?"

Jim shrugged his shoulders, slightly.  "I dunno.  A few days 
ago, I guess.  Too much going on...and still too much to do."

Leonard slid off the desk, and placed his hands on Jim's upper 
arms.  "Not for the next eight hours.  C'mon.  I'm takin' you to 
your cabin and puttin' you to bed."

Obediently, Jim rose up.  Some of the color was back in his 
face, and it was obvious that the whisky had finally reached 
his bloodstream and was helping him to relax.  "Is that a 
proposal or a proposition, Doctor?" Jim grinned that killer 
half-grin of his.

"It'll be an order if you don't comply," Leonard smiled back, 
although he sincerely meant every word.


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