S/Mc; written for Spiced Peaches XX
The boys wanted to do something special for each other.
This is not to be confused with my "McCoy with a hickey" story "A Marked Man."
Not even a sequel, nope, nope, nope.
Spock touched his side furtively. The sensation was starting to fade, the slight pain, the burning, tingling feeling. Spock was warned that the area would be sensitive for a few days, but in a strange
way he liked the way the constant physical sensation reminded him of their inward reality. He
realized with surprise that he would miss that tenderness.
Would his Leonard appreciate his gesture?
McCoy rubbed his chest. The area still stung like a sumabitch. What was he thinking? Spock wouldn't appreciate such a blatant gesture.
Spock'd probably make him reverse the procedure and all the itching and burning would be for nothing. In fact, the reversal procedure would hurt even worse. The
doctor shook his head with disgust at himself. "A little suffering is good for
the soul," his Grandpappy McCoy taught him, but this? This was a rash, fool thing
Spock would never appreciate this kind
Spock noticed more overt expressions of
affection in the mess hall at breakfast that morning. The reason escaped him. Only seven weeks prior, hanging springs of mistletoe caused such behavior, but there
were no such branches of the parasitic plant in evidence. Then, when a red paper
heart appeared on his meal tray, Spock remembered the reason.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Darling,'"
McCoy whispered behind him. Spock turned around, paper heart still in hand. "Is that for me, Sugar?" the doctor asked, sotto
voce. "You don't really want to out us to the whole crew, do ya?" McCoy looked around nervously. "Here?"
Spock slipped back into his I-am-not-supposed-to-like-you
role. "What is the meaning of this, doctor?" he barked.
"Now, Spock," he said in his best Why-do-I-have-to-tolerate-this-hobgoblin
gruff manner, "it's just a tray favor. The rest of the crew is celebrating Valentine's
Day, not that you would have anything to do with something so emotional." McCoy
snatched the paper from the Vulcan's hand. "Here, I'll take this. At least I have a heart."
McCoy dared the slightest of wink
at Spock to take the sting out of that last exchange. As their fingers brushed,
Spock sent, I have something for you. McCoy
replied through the link, So do I, he said. I'll show you later, to which Spock answered, Until
McCoy put on his best scowl as he took
the heart and left. He made it al the way to the lift before his face broke out
into a sloppy grin as he pressed the heart over his own.
Spock arrived at McCoy's quarters that
evening as promised. The doctor was disappointed to see that the Vulcan's hands
"I thought you said you had something for
me," McCoy pouted.
"I do," Spock said simply. "Would you like to see it now, or would you prefer to eat first?"
McCoy wondered if Spock realized how suggestive
"I was told that it would be healed up
by now…" Spock continued.
McCoy started at that. "What do you do, Pierce your … pierce something?"
Spock looked up sharply at that. Modern Vulcans wouldn't dream of mutilating their bodies in such a fashion.
Well, except for women's earlobes. His mother once said that pierced earrings
seemed to be a universal trait.
"Not exactly," Spock replied as he reached
for the hem of his shirt. He lifted it from his side to show a line of Vulcan
script at the base of his ribcage.
McCoy looked at it with fascination. "What does it say?" he breathed.
McCoy looked up with dewy eyes. "You tattooed my name over your heart?" he asked incredulously.
Spock merely nodded, concerned that his
Leonard was near tears.
"Damn fool Vulcan," McCoy groused
gently as he picked up his own shirt to show Spock his own half-healed tattoo. There,
nestled in his Leonard's chest hair, as if protecting it, was Spock's name in a very stylized script.
Each man had tattooed his beloved's name
close to his own heart. It was a markedly special Valentine's celebration for