Author: tprillahfiction

Fandom: ST TOS

Pairing: Spock/McCoy

Rating: PG

Word Count: 11,521

Summary:  Kirk needs to practice his wedding officiant skills so he drafts the assistance of Spock and McCoy to be his pretend couple.  It’s meant to be only a game, not real.  The problem is Spock is taking this wedding thing way too seriously.  

Warning:  This is a farce.  Expect silliness, ridiculous scenario.  Swearing.

Written for: Spiced Peaches 

Disclaimer:  Star Trek does not belong to me.  I make no money from this.  This has nothing to do with the movie of the same name starring Cameron Diaz.  

Thank you, thank you very much.

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS...

“Bones!” Kirk said, clasping the doctor’s shoulders in the deck 5 corridor.  “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Oh?  What’s the matter Jim?  Got a hangnail?” 

“Nope.”  Jim stood there, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, what is it?  What do you need?”

Jim tilted his head conspiratorially.  “In my quarters. We’ll talk.  Over a drink.”

“I’m almost afraid to, Jim.”

*

McCoy spat out his brandy. “WHAT?”

“I need for you and Spock to get married.”

“To each other?”

“Yeah.”

McCoy smacked his palm down on the captain’s desk and stood up.  “That’s it Jim.  I’m relieving you of command.  I’m citing severe mental illness, regulation 46.7A--”

“Knock it off, Bones.  I’m serious.  Hear me out.”

“Marry Spock?  What in blazes for!?  Oh no, now wait just a goddamned minute.  He’s going through that goddamned pon farr business again.  Oh no.  Forget it.  If you think I’m gonna fight that Stonn you are fucking crazy and I’m--”

“Bones, will you shut up a minute?  Let me explain it to you.  Bones.  Calm down.  Bones!  Sit down and shut up.  You know the Mugullah/Peterson wedding I performed a week ago?”

“Yeah, I was there.”

“Well, it appears I made an error during the ceremony.” Jim got up and paced his quarters back and forth.  “Something in the wording of it.  The details.”

“I dunno, Jim.  I thought the ceremony went just fine and dandy.”

“I thought so too, but both Mugullah and Peterson complained.  Went over my head, to the brass.  Commodore Stocker.”

“They went over your head to Stocker?” McCoy’s eyes widened.  “Really?  Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” Jim smacked his hands together.  “I thought the ceremony was beautiful, thought my words were poignant and--”

“But the happy couple didn’t agree.”

“No, they sure didn’t.”

“But, it worked, right?  They’re married,” McCoy pointed out.  “You didn’t fuck that up.  The ceremony is legal. That’s the important thing.”

“Yeah, but they feel cheated.  Felt the ceremony was crap.”

McCoy took another long sip of his drink.  “Mugullah and Peterson are lucky there wasn’t a red alert in the middle of it.  What the hell do they expect with a tour in deep space during a five year mission?”

“I don’t know, Bones.  I just don’t know.”

“So what the hell does this have to do with me and Spock getting married?”

“Well.” Jim cleared his throat.  “I need to practice officiating a wedding ceremony.”

“Practice officiating a wedding ceremony?”

“That’s what I said.”

“But Jim, how hard can that be?  Why don’t you offer to redo the Mugullah/Peterson wedding?  That would be better, don’t you think?”

“No, they don’t want a redo.”

“They don’t, huh?”

“No.  I need to practice on somebody else.”

McCoy poured another full glass of brandy.  “And ya’ll reckon you should practice on me and Spock.”

“Correct.”

“Jim.  There’s just one problem with this evil plan of yours.”

“What is it?”

“We can’t get married.”

“Why not?”

“Well, first of all, Spock and I are not a couple.  We’re not dating.  We’re not even courting.  I don’t even know if we could even call each other friends.  What we have is professional courtesy more like, when we can bother to get along.  We sure as hell are not sleeping together.  And, most importantly, we’re not even attracted to one another!” McCoy raised up his hands.  “This is ridiculous!”

“But you and Spock both like men, right?”

McCoy lowered his hands and raised an eyebrow.  “Spock prefers men?”

“Yeah.” Jim grinned and nodded.  

“Really?” McCoy said.  “Ooh, I didn’t know that.”

“I thought you did.”

“No, I didn’t.  Huh.  Learn something new everyday.”

“And you prefer men, Bones.”

“Well, I’m bisexual, Jim.”

“Spock’s your type.  Man of science.”

“Yeah, but--wait a minute.  He’s not my--”

“Bones.”

“Yeah?”

“Calm down.  You’re shaking.  Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. The ceremony won’t be legal.  You don’t have to do anything, just show up.  Let me do the marrying and you and Spock will stand in front of me during the ceremony and play the happy couple.  You know, it’s like-- I dunno-- performing in a stage play or something.  Just act.  That’s it.  It’s easy.  You don’t have to kiss him.”

“I don’t?  Well, thank the Great Bird of The Galaxy for that miracle--”

“You don’t have to consummate anything.”

McCoy snickered in spite of himself.  “Now that would be interesting.  Me and Spock consummating the marriage.”  He downed his drink and poured himself another.  “Get me drunk and maybe I’ll capitulate.  And I’ll most likely have to be falling over drunk during the ceremony too.”

“No, no, no.  You have to do the ceremony completely sober.”

McCoy wrinkled up his nose.  “Oh, you’re kidding.  I dunno, Jim.  I mean, this is crazy.  Don’t you dare make it an order.”

“I will if I have to.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Come on, Bones.  Do a friend a favor.  I need the practice.”

“Practice?  My ass.  Aren’t there any legitimate couples aboard the Enterprise that would be more than happy to have a real wedding performed by the illustrious Captain James T. Kirk?”

“None that I know of. It can’t be real. The ceremony has to be pretend.”

“I don’t get it.  Why pretend, Jim?”

“As I said, Stocker wants me to practice.  I might screw it up again.”

“Jim, you’re a highly trained Starfleet captain with years of service.  Screwing up a wedding ceremony?  You’re in command of a starship.  That would be the least of my worries.  The accusations don’t seem silly to you?”

“I have my orders, Bones.”

“This is a joke, right?  Is it April fools day?”

“No, Bones.  No joke.”

“But if it isn’t a joke--again Jim--aren’t there any real couples aboard the Enterprise that would be overjoyed to participate in a practice ‘fake’ wedding ceremony, performed by Captain James T. Kirk?”

“There’s none.”

“You haven’t bothered to find out.  Have you.”

“Bones.   You and Spock are my best friends.  I trust the both of you with my life.  In fact the both of you have saved mine many a time.  And I’ve saved yours.”

“So?”

“So, you know, you do me this little favor--maybe we can make something fun of the situation.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Jim broke out into a huge grin. “Stocker is granting myself and the happy couple special shore leave.”

“Go on.”

“To Earth. Las Vegas.  One week.  All expenses paid.  The best hotel room. Gambling, fine dining, booze, you name it.  And if I’m gonna go to Vegas for shore leave with anyone, I want it to be with you and Spock.  My best friends.”

“Spock’s not gonna go for Vegas.  Scotty might, but not Spock.”

“Fine.  You wanna marry Scotty or Spock?  Pick one.”

McCoy thought about that for a moment.  “Alright, I pick Spock.”  He shrugged.  “I just want to see the look on his face when you ask him.  Betcha five credits he politely tells you where to go.”

“I’ll work on him.  Soon as we get his okay, then I’ll make all the arrangements for the wedding chapel.”

“What’s this WE business?  You mean ‘you’!  Wait a minute--  Wedding chapel?  The ‘wedding’ won’t be held aboard ship?”

“Nope.  Las Vegas.”

“Well, actually maybe it would be better that way.  The whole damn ship won’t find out.  Oh no, what the hell am I thinking?  Of course they’ll find out! But Jim, you don’t have the authority to officiate a wedding on Earth.”

“Exactly, Bones.  See?  That’s why it won’t be legal.  Nothing to worry about.  And then after the ceremony is over with and the reception--”

“Reception?!  Wait a minute--”

“Just a little party, Bones.  Lots of booze, wedding cake.”

“Wedding cake?  What?”

“Yeah, you like cake, don’t ya?”

“Well, gee I don’t--”

“Lots of booze, Bones.  Then afterwards you’ll be able to relax in a fancy penthouse hotel suite, soaking in a sunken jacuzzi in the room, snack on chocolate covered strawberries, drink lots of champagne.  As much room service as you want.  Booze--”

“You said that.”

“--gambling, food, shows, you name it, it’s all yours for the taking, Bones.  Come on, Bones.  You know you want to.  All you have to do is marry Spock.  Only take about a half hour of your precious time then they’ll be a little party to celebrate and then we have the rest of the week--”

“Can’t we lie and say we did the ceremony?  And still go on the Vegas shore leave?”

“Nope.”

“Dammit.  You are something, you know that, Jim?”  McCoy stood up, placed both hands on the desk.  “Fine!” he shouted.  “I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to do this for you.”

“Thanks, Bones!  You’re a real pal.”

“Yeah.  Sure I am.”

“Now I have to get Spock on board.”

McCoy went over and patted Jim on the shoulder.  “Good luck with that.  Make sure you tell him it was all your crazy idea, alright?   It better be the best goddamned shore leave ever.  The best damned shor--”

“I heard you the first time, Bones.  It will.  I guarantee it.”

“Alright, then.”  McCoy watched Jim move towards the door.  “Thanks, Jim.”

As Jim exited, McCoy muttered to himself:  “What the hell am I thanking him for?”

McCoy was sitting in his quarters, nursing another drink, muttering:  “He’ll never go for it.  Jim is an absolute madman and I’ll--”

The bosun’s whistle sounded.  “Kirk to McCoy.”

“McCoy, here.  Jim  how did it--?”

“Shhh, Bones.  Need to see you in my quarters, immediately.”

“On my way, Jim.” McCoy dashed out the doors, almost nailing his hip on the bulkhead.

*

“He wants me to do what, now?” McCoy said, gaping at the captain.

“Well, the only way he’ll agree to this...little wedding ceremony...is if you go over there--”

“Where, Jim?”

“His quarters.  Go over there, pay him a visit and then... ask him.”

McCoy scratched his head.  “Ask him what?”

“To marry you,” Jim stated in all seriousness.

“To marry me,” McCoy repeated.  He folded his arms and thought a moment.  “You mean...he wants me to...propose to him?”

“Well,” Jim said with a shrug.  “I guess if you put it like that.”

“Put it like what?” McCoy said, finding a little bit of panic well up in his heart and feeling as if he needed to explain the obvious to his best friend.  “That is what asking someone to marry you is...it’s called proposing.”

“I’m fully aware of that, Bones.”

“Why does he want me to propose?  He does realize that this is not real, this wedding is only pretend.  Right?”

“Sure he does, Bones.”

“You told him that, right?”

“Of course I did.”

“He and I are not a couple, so why is he...?”

Jim patted McCoy on the shoulder.  “Listen it doesn’t have to be a big deal.  All you have to do is go over to Spock’s quarters and ask him to marry you.  I mean you’re the other affected party so---”

“He wants me... to ask him... to marry him,” McCoy said slowly, tilting his head, trying desperately to understand what the hell was really going on.  “And then he’ll agree to this charade of a wedding.”

“Yes,” Jim said.  “That is his demand.”

McCoy walked over to Jim’s desk, sat down and put his head in his arms.  “I need another drink.”

Jim sat down across from him.  “So will you do it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Jim got up and fixed him that badly needed brandy.  “Not really.  Here.” He handed it over.  “Liquid courage.”

With shaky hands, McCoy sipped that drink till it was gone.  “Alright.  You know what?  I have some demands, too.  I want the tackiest wedding chapel in Las Vegas.”

Jim waved him off.  “Oh, there’s a ton of ‘em, don’t you worry about that.”

“With Elvis singing at the chapel.”

“You want Elvis, you got him, Bones.  Anything for you.”

“I’ll provide you with a song list.  Maybe you could dress up like Elvis, too.  In fact, I insist.  I want plastic flowers on the pews, pink flamingo decor, a plastic boutonniere and maybe a pink caddie to drive around in-- anything you can think of.  I want to wear one of those tuxedo T-shirts.  Maybe have the reception at McDonalds.”

Jim broke out in a chuckle.  “Really, McDonalds?  Spock’s a vegetarian.”

“Those burgers aren’t real meat anyway.”

“Bones.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Jim.   Better make that a fancy restaurant so he can have something to eat too--don’t wanna go too far--” McCoy halted.  “Wait a minute.”

“What?”

“I don’t have anything to propose with.  I need something.”

Jim held up his hand.  “I’ve got that all taken care of.”

“Oh?”

“Uh huh.” Jim reached over to dig into a drawer.  He finally pulled out a red velvet heart shaped box.  “Look at this.”

McCoy eyed the other man, then opened it.  He stared at the ring a moment, then grinned.  “Goddamn, Jim.  This looks like something you’d get out of one of those ancient gumball machines.  Oh this is perfect.  Lets see the look on the hobgoblin’s face when I propose with this.”  He took it out of the box and slid it onto his own ring finger and began to laugh hysterically.  “Oh my God, this is fucking perfect.”

“Don’t get it stuck on your hand.”

“Will it turn my finger green?”  With that McCoy dissolved into a fit of giggles.

*

“Spock, will you marry me?”  His voice cracked as he said the word ‘marry’ as he held up the gaudy ring, giving a goofy smile in front of the bathroom mirror.  The grin faded then darkened into a scowl.  “No, no, dammit.  That sounded like I’m going through puberty.  Goddammit.  This is crazy.  Absolutely crazy.  Spock’ll never go for it.  These shenanigans.  I must be insane for agreeing to this.   Jim has gotta be puttin’ me on and Spock is gonna raise his eyebrow in that logical disapproving fashion and I’ll never hear the end of it and--”

He stopped, took a deep breath and stared some more at his reflection.  Seemed to have acquired more bags under his eyes.  Nice.  Well, he was a doctor not a centerfold.  

He yanked down on his black undershirt that seemed to have ridden up to his belly, then went into the head to brush his teeth again.  He’d just taken a shower not five minutes ago but he’s been sweating buckets so he sniffed under his arms to make sure they didn’t stink.  He wiped the beads from his brow.  “Why am I so goddamned nervous?  It’s Spock for crying out loud!”  He went over to his desk and fixed himself yet another brandy.  That’ll take the edge off, Jim was right about the liquid courage.  Just make sure to eat a couple mints to get rid of the booze breath. 

Now for what to wear.  Sickbay smock or standard ‘velour’ tunic?  Which one?  He glanced from one to the other hanging up in front of him.  Which one?  Goddammit.  Which one?!  Which shirt said, ‘marriage proposal’?  The sickbay smock was more comfortable but was it too casual?  Maybe he should slip on that dress uniform.  No, no, no.  Let’s not go that far.  He began to pace his quarters.  Clapped his hands together.  Fuck.  Which shirt should he wear?  Velour or smock?  Should he ask Jim?  Hell no.

“Fine, you know what,” he said to himself.  “I’ll flip for it.  Get my indian nickel out.  That’ll be the final decision.”  Heads was the velour tunic, tails would be the sickbay smock.  He dug around for the nickel in his drawer, found it, then tossed it up into the air.  He caught it and slammed it down on his forearm.  He removed his hand.  It was heads.  “Alright.  It’s settled.  Velour tunic it is.”

He pulled the tunic off the hanger, donned it, straightened out any wrinkles with the palm of his hand.  He looked in the mirror once again, squinting at himself.  “Goddammit my hair is sticking up.  Spock’s not gonna say ‘yes’ with my hair sticking up.  He does have standards, for crying out loud.”  He rolled his eyes, got out a tube of hair jell and slicked down the offending cowlick.  Now it looked like he had too much product in his hair.  He couldn’t win.  

After a few more moments, he was ready.  He took another long sip of the brandy, then finally polished off the glass.  He stared for a moment.  He should take a anti-ol hypo so he’s not inebriated.  They kept this stuff around in case of red alert.  Wasn’t pleasant but it was necessary.  He reached over, picked up the hypo and shot himself with it.  After a moment he was completely cold stinking sober.  Wonderful.  

He flipped on the viewer.  “McCoy to Spock.”

“Spock here.”

“Spock will you be in quarters this evening?”  

Spock knew goddamned well why he was asking but the hobgoblin didn’t let on.  “Affirmative, Doctor.”

“Good.  I’m fixing to pay you a visit,” he said, a little more grandly than he intended.  “How’s that sound?”

“When shall I expect you?” Spock replied.

“As soon as I can carry my little legs down there.”

“Acknowledged, Spock out.”

McCoy flipped off the viewer and made a face.  “As soon as I can carry my little legs down there?  Goddammit, Bones, you can be the dumbest lunkhead aboard ship sometimes.”

Well, it was now or never.  He walked to the doors then halted, glanced down at the gaudy ring on his right hand.  “Know what?  I’m wearing my goddamned smock.”  

*

He left the turbolift, arrived at Spock’s door.  Before signaling, he glanced down and noticed twin sweat rings under his arms.  Shoulda wore the velour tunic.  Dammit.  He bounced on his heels and activated the door chime.

“Come,” came the reply from inside.

He moved through the doors to find Spock sitting at his desk.  “Good Evening, Doctor.”

“Hello, Spock.” He stood, awkwardly, politely until the Vulcan invited him to sit.

“Would you like a drink?” Spock offered.

“Uh,” he said, remembering the hypo he just took.  “No, thank you.”

“Are you certain you would not like some tea?”

McCoy cleared his throat.  “Fine, if you insist.”

Spock brought him the tea and they sat sipping at their mugs for a few moments, not saying a word.  McCoy shifted in his chair, idly tapping the lip of the mug.  

Spock’s attention was drawn to McCoy’s fingers.  “That is an interesting ring you are wearing.  I have not recognized it before.  Quite elaborate.”

McCoy hid his hand behind his back.   He blushed and said:  “It’s new.”

“Ah.”

McCoy adjusted the collar of his T-shirt under the smock.  "A little hot in here isn't it?"

"I turned the temperature down."

"Oh.  Thanks."

A few more long minutes of heavy silence between them where McCoy was looking every place else except at Spock.  He came to the end of his tea so he couldn’t even occupy himself with consuming that anymore.  He cleared his throat again.  “S’pose you know why I’m here.”

Spock didn’t reply to that, merely sat there, oddly engrossed in his own beverage.  “Would you care for another drink?”

“No, it’ll make me--” McCoy stopped but he meant to say, it would make him have to pee and he already had to go desperately, so why make things worse and--  “I’m fine, thank you.”

Spock nodded and continued to sit there.

McCoy rubbed his hands.  “Jesus Christ.  Usually we’re engaged in a vicious argument right about now after spending this long of a time alone together.”

“We rarely argue.”

“What are you talking about?  We’re always arguing.”

“Only when you are incorrect about an important issue and I must bring the matter to your attention.  You are quite emotional about a great deal many subjects of which I must balance with logic.”

“When was I incorrect about an ‘issue’?!” McCoy demanded, placing heavy sarcastic emphasis on that last word.  “And logical?  Ha!  My ass, you are.  I can’t believe you were actually willing to involve yourself with this little game of Jim’s.  What the hell’s the matter with you?  Jim asks you to take part in this stupid, silly, fake wedding ceremony and you agree with it.  I mean--”

Spock reacted to that, by turning his face away.  

Odd.  Wasn’t what he was expecting.  He cleared his throat again.  “Care if use your toilet?”

Spock waved him in that direction.  “By all means.”

“Why thank you.”  He got up, locked himself inside the bathroom.  Went pee.  Finished up, washed his hands and glanced in the mirror.  “Nice job, you fucking bastard.”  What a surprise, Leonard McCoy managed to fuck up a marriage proposal.  Well, wouldn’t be the first time.  In fact he managed to fuck up an entire marriage, too.  

Well, without a doubt, when he walked out of this here bathroom, the Vulcan would simply ignore him, would be as cold as ice, probably immersed in some reports and McCoy’d just scoot on past this disaster and leave quietly.  Get the hell outta Dodge.  Then he’d head over to Scotty’s  cabin to ask him instead.  Probably should have told Jim to ask the chief engineer in the first place.  

He hesitated a moment before he popped open the door.  He came out and noticed that his empty mug was still sitting where he’d left it.  Spock was now standing, looking out of his viewing port, at the stars.  Instead of leaving, McCoy came up to stand next to him.  

Spock turned to look at him and there was a moment however fleeting of definite hurt and sadness in those dark orbs.   

McCoy didn’t understand.  Did he somehow upset the first officer?  He didn’t know but seeing that did something to him, made him melt a little inside.  He stood, face to face with the Vulcan, meeting his gaze.  “Hey uh,” he said.  “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize.”

He was about to argue back that yes he was out of line he really should apologize and if Spock wanted to play along with this fake wedding for the captain’s benefit then he had no right to judge him.  He really should propose like he promised he’d do and get this ball rolling and stop dragging things out.  Except when he opened his mouth, he couldn’t do it.  Couldn’t say the words.   Something about Spock’s quarters. 

Instead he said:  “Why don’t we go someplace else to talk, other than this oven?”

Spock’s eyes suddenly changed to curiosity, there was almost a glint of humor in them.  Goodness, he was starting to read the Vulcan like a book.  Maybe he could almost convince himself that Spock felt every emotion he did.  

“Where should we go?” Spock asked.

McCoy was about to shrug and say ‘I dunno’, when he blurted out:  “Observation lounge.  We’ll look at the stars.”

“We can view the stars from my quarters.”

McCoy huffed and folded his arms.  “I know that, Commander Obvious, but from the observation deck, we can REALLY see them.  Fine.  Point taken.  You don’t wanna go.  Alright, then.”  Goddammit Bones, just ask him and leave.  What the hell is the matter with--

“I did not say that I did not wish to go.”

“Well then, that’s settled, lets go.”

*

He was aware this was turning into some kind of a date when they strode through the doors of the observation lounge.  Place was deserted.  Excellent.   He locked the doors behind him with the CMO’s code.  Spock raised an eyebrow at that.

“So we don’t get caught ‘en fragrante delicto’,” McCoy explained.  “You want Janice Rand up here spying on us?  Us two up here alone together.  Shit.  The scuttlebutt will travel through the ship so fast your ears will spin.  Warp 11.”

“My ears do not spin at warp 11,”  Spock said solemnly and McCoy couldn’t help but giggle as the Vulcan actually reached up and touched his own ear.  “Are you implying, Dr. McCoy, that two fellow officers cannot be seen in the observation lounge together, unless they are in a relationship?”

“I’m outright saying that.  You better believe they’d think something was up.  Specially since tonight’s a Saturday night.”

“What if both officers simply wish to look at the stars in each other’s company?”

“I don’t know, Spock.  This is where couples go to...you know.  Fool around.  On saturday night.  Which is why I’m surprised nobody is already up here.  not even checkov.  Maybe it’s early.”

“I see.”

“I’ve never brought anybody else up here, if that’s what you were wondering.”

Spock shrugged a little and McCoy was flabbergasted to realize that that’s exactly what Spock was wondering.  

And he didn’t know why he had the crazy idea to come up here with Spock anyway.  But, the observation deck seemed more romantic, abiet a less private location to propose.  For a fake wedding ceremony.  

“Spock give me your hand.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, but did so.  Strangely enough, this wasn’t the first time they’d held hands.  Well they’d clasped hands, more like.  When Spock had to drag him out of a hole, planet side.  Or when he had to check for Spock’s radial pulse.  You know, important things like that.

“You’re not expecting me to get down on one knee are you?” McCoy asked.

“Jim had informed me that that was the correct procedure, yes.”

“So you DO want me to get down on one goddamned knee, fine, coming right up.” He got down on one knee.  “I can’t pronounce your full name.”

“Spock is sufficient.”

“Fine.  Alright.”  He cleared his throat.  “Here goes.  Spock will you do me the honor of marrying me?”  That didn’t come out as eloquent as he’d hoped, but he’d avoided saying the honor of being my spouse since this wasn’t real but hopefully this proposal would do the job.  

And what was taking Spock so long to reply?  

“Hmmm,” Spock said.  

“Oh for Chrissake!”   McCoy stood up still holding onto the Vulcan’s hand who hadn’t released him.  “What do you mean ‘hmmmm’?”

“I must take time to give a response.”

“What?  You can’t say ‘yes’ right away?”

“Negative.”

“Why the hell not?”

“It is not our way.”

“The Vulcan way or you and Jim’s crazy ass way of rattling your poor Chief Medical Officer?”

“The Vulcan way.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I am not.”

“Fine.  When can I expect a reply, Sir?”

“I will visit you with my response.”

McCoy rubbed his face with one hand, the hand that Spock wasn’t still holding.  “Can I have my hand back, please?”

Spock released it.  McCoy covered his face with both hands.  

“Should we vacate the observation lounge?” Spock asked.

“You go on ahead, Spock.  I need a few minutes alone.”

*

He was sitting at his desk, in his quarters, nursing a brandy when his door chimed.  “Come,” he growled out.

Jim practically dove through them.  “Bones!  How’d it go?”

McCoy got up and pointed at the captain.  “Don’t.  Don’t you talk to me.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Humiliate me like that.  What’s the matter with you, Jim?”

“Humiliate you?”  Jim glanced at the gaudy ring on McCoy’s hand.  “You’re still wearing it.  Didn’t you ask him?”

McCoy plonked back down in his chair.  “I sure as hell did.”

“Why didn’t you give him the ring?”

He didn’t want to explain to Jim that he hadn’t bothered offering up this ridiculous piece of tat.  “Because he said ‘no’.”

Jim bit his lip.  “He said ‘no’?  Wow.  And you even picked a romantic place, the observation lounge to propose.  I’d have just done it in his quarters.”

“Spock told you I proposed in the observation lounge?”

“Nope.  Heard you two were up there from Yeoman Rand.  She wondered if something was going on between you both.”

McCoy smacked his hand down on the desk.  “Goddammit.”

Jim scratched his cheek.  “That’s strange.  Spock had specifically requested that he wanted you to formally propose.”

“I did.  I did what he wanted, Jim.  And he said, ‘he’d have to give me a response, later on’.”

“So he didn’t say ‘no’.”

“Well, not exactly.  But what else does ‘I have to think about it‘ mean?”

“I dunno, Bones.  I’ve never proposed to anyone.  Maybe it means he needs to think about it?”

“What the hell does he need to think about?  Hey, Jim?”

“Yes?”

“Why does Spock want a formal proposal?”

“It’s just his way.”

McCoy muttered something unintelligible and took another long sip of his drink.  “I did it.  I did what he wanted.  So why is he making such a huge--?”

“You should have offered him the ring.  That would have sealed the deal.”

“Get the hell outta here, Captain, allow me to wallow in my misery.  Maybe Scotty and Spock would care to get fake married instead.  Leave me the hell out of it.”

“Don’t you want to go to Vegas?”

“Not anymore.”

The door chime suddenly sounded.  “Oooh, that’s him!” Jim said.  “That’s him, Bones!”

“Nah,” McCoy said.  “Probably M’Benga or one of the nurses, maybe.”

“They visit your quarters?”

“Well, sometimes-- you know if it’s important....not like that, Jim.  Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Answer the fucking chime, Bones.”

“Dammit, Jim, don’t get your panties in a twist.  Come!” he bellowed out.

The doors slid open to admit Spock.  “Jim,” he greeted politely.

“Hi, Spock!” Jim replied, giving a small clasp on the Vulcan’s back.  “I was just leaving so you two can uh...you know.  Talk privately.”

“Thank you, Jim,” Spock said.  “I appreciate that.”

“I know you do,” Jim replied with a smile.  “I’ll just be...in my quarters....on deck five...if you both need me.  Just call.”

“Bye Jim.”  McCoy waved at him to get the hell on out.  

As soon as the doors slid shut in Jim’s wake, McCoy stood up.  “Care for a brandy?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I would like a brandy.”

McCoy arched an eyebrow.  That didn’t happen very often.  “Coming right up, Mr. Spock,” he said.  He handed over a glass, clinking his own with Spock’s.

“It is customary after a marriage proposal to present the betrothed with a gift,” Spock began without preamble.

McCoy glanced down at the ring on his own hand.  “Yeah, uh.”  Shoulda given Spock the ring, like Jim said, as awful as it is, he supposed the Vulcan was expecting it.    “I uh--”

“Therefore, I present to you, this.” Spock held the object up for McCoy to see.

“A coin?” McCoy asked.

“Affirmative.”  Spock flipped it around.  “However it is not simply any coin.  It is 5,000 years old.  It has been in my family for centuries.”

“It’s...beautiful!”

Spock held it out.  “It is for you.  From me.”

McCoy looked from the coin to Spock’s eyes and down to the coin again, he was aware that he was gaping.  “Spock, I--I can’t accept this from you.”

“Why not?”

“Because...I...you and I are not...we’re not really.... Wait a minute, Spock, are you saying: ‘yes, I will marry you?’”

“I accept your proposal.  The answer is yes.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that but then he sobered.  “I can’t take this coin from you--I mean...we’re only having a fake wedding ceremony.  Not legally binding.”

“I am fully aware.”

“So you should save this for when you marry for real.  For your real fiance.  Someday.”

There was more hurt in those dark orbs as Spock replied:  “I would very much like for you to have this.  Please, take it.”

He searched Spock’s eyes again.  Something in them made him capitulate.  “Alright.”  Spock placed it into his hand.  “Thank you.  I’m honored.”  He closed his fingers around it and hefted it.  “It’s heavy.”

“It is very valuable.”

“I figured.  I’ll be sure to take care of it.”

“I know,” Spock said.  

McCoy broke away from his gaze, coughed a little in his other hand.  He didn’t have anything valuable to give Spock.  Damn.  Couldn’t give the Vulcan this gaudy, nasty ring.  He racked his brain, glanced around his quarters, then suddenly noticed his left hand.  His pinky ring.  That was valuable.  He slid it off his finger, grabbed Spock’s and slid it on Spock’s pinky.  “Here.  I want you to have this,” he said.

“Your ring?” Spock said.

“Yes.” He was about to say, the ring meant alot to him, was his late mother’s, he’d never before taken it off.  But he had a feeling Spock already knew that.  It looked good on Spock’s hand.

“Thank you, I shall treasure it,” Spock said.

“I know you will,” McCoy replied.  “I uh...” he coughed in his hand again.  “Guess we’re fake engaged now.”

“Apparently so,” Spock agreed.  

“The things we do to get a trip to Vegas,” McCoy mused.

“Hmmm.”

“Ever been to Las Vegas?”

“Negative.”

“Well it’s like Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet, only smaller.  Like a condensed area, not a whole planet--just a city on Earth...city of sin...basically.”

“I have never been to Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.  So you have no common frame of reference.  Are you sure you wanna go to Vegas?”

“I am not adverse to the idea.”

“Alright.  By the way, beware.  Yeoman Rand spotted us up on the Observation deck.  I don’t know how, but now the whole ship--I’m sure of it-- has us married off already and expecting a baby.”

“Understood.”

They sat in silence for a moment, until McCoy said:  “Hey uh, how about tomorrow night, when we’re both off duty, maybe you could join me for dinner in my quarters?”

“Hmmm.”

“What do you mean, ‘hmmm’?  You don’t want to spend time with your fake fiance?”

“I do, but I must know when the ceremony will be held.”

“I don’t know.  Whenever Jim gets everything worked out.  He has to notify Clark County that he’s officiating--rather than one of those wedding chapel ministers.”

“Wedding chapel ministers?” Spock raised an eyebrow.  

“Yeah, they uh...often dress like Elvis.”

“Elvis...?” Spock seemed to be wracking his brain which finally supplied him with an answer.  “Elvis Presley? What does he have to do with--?  Is this customary for an Earth ceremony?”

“Well in Vegas it is.  See, Elvis IS Las Vegas.  He was an entertainer there, got married there.  So there’s lot of Elvis impersonators in town.   Elvis often sings at the wedding ceremony and sometimes the officiant is Elvis and uh....I mean some of the wedding chapels are actually really nice but some of ‘em are goddawful tacky and....you can have a Liberace impersonator play at your reception, too.  We should look into that.   That’s a new fad everybody’s been doing.”

“Liberace?”  Spock looked at him blankly.

“Y’know.  Played piano.  Talented guy.  Lived about 250 years ago.  Wore these elaborate costumes, hands covered in tacky looking, gaudy rings--”

Spock immediately glanced down at McCoy’s gaudy ring.  “Ah.”

McCoy pointed to it.  “Yeah, kinda like this one.  He wore them on every finger.  Only his were real diamond and gold and platinum and ruby and sapphire and--anyway.  People used to make fun of him, you know, back when being gay was hidden away and not accepted and the elaborate way he dressed.   He used to say he was crying all the way to the bank.  He’d have this chauffeur drive him onstage--which was really his live-in boyfriend and uh....y’know Liberace!  Candelabra on his piano?  You don’t know of Liberace?”

“I do not.”

“Computer, play some Liberace!”

“Unable to comply.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, computer.  Dammit.  Alright.  I’ll have to dig up some Liberace someplace, Spock.  So you can hear him.  Somebody’s gotta have a file somewhere.”

“And...one must have a Liberace impersonator play one’s reception.”  Spock seemed positively aghast.  “This is an Earth custom?  And the officiant must dress up as Elvis Presley.”

“I didn’t say it was an Earth custom.  It is a Vegas custom.”

“I see.”  Spock didn’t seem very amused at this, in fact he seemed to pale.  

“Don’t worry, Spock, it’s not as bad as you’re picturing.  Actually it probably IS as bad as your picturing.  It’s not required.  People do it for fun.  You know:  tacky wedding chapel, five minute ceremony, you get a coffee mug with yours and my picture on it that says just married.”  He clapped his hands together.  “I’m kinda looking forward to this, actually!”

Spock seemed to freeze and McCoy added:  “You can’t back out now, Spock!  It’s not my fault that you didn’t know what you were getting into!”

“Jim made no mention of Elvis Presley or Liberace or a coffee mug with my picture on it.”

“‘Just married’!” McCoy added.

“‘Just married’.”

“Yeah well, leave it to Jim to leave out all this important detail, to gain your compliance.”

“Agreed."  

A thought sprung up in McCoy’s brain and he began giggling again.  

“What is it, Doctor?”

“I’m your fake fiance, you can call me Leonard...in private.”

“What is it, Leonard?”

“It just occurred to me that you know who Elvis is, but not Liberace.”

Spock shrugged.

“Y’know I told Jim it was kinda ironic that we were doing this in Vegas, being as same sex marriage has only been legal in Las Vegas for the last 50 years.”

“Fascinating.”

“Yeah.  They were the last hold out.  Behind Utah, which is an extremely ultra conservative state in America.”

“Same sex marriage has always been legal on Vulcan.  It has never been an issue.”

“That’s because you guys are logical.”

“Ah,” Spock replied, then stood.  “Forgive me, Leonard, the hour is late and I must return to my quarters.”

“Yeah, good idea.  You go get some sleep.  You’re getting some bags around the eyes.  Not looking your usual handsome self,” he dared say.

“Bags?” Spock wondered.

“Like I have.  See?”  McCoy motioned.  “I never get enough sleep.  Been tired since medical school.”

Spock smirked at that.  “Goodnight, Leonard.”

“Goodnight, Spock,” McCoy replied.  “Wait a minute--Spock?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for the gift.”

“Likewise, Leonard,” Spock replied, holding up his hand with the pinky ring.

Spock turned and walked through the doors and McCoy tried not to think that he actually liked it when the Vulcan used his christian name instead of his title, gave him a little thrill.  “Don’t you go getting all excited,” he whispered to himself.  “This is Spock we’re dealing with.”

*

Jim practically tackled him in the deserted officer’s mess.  “You devil you!”

“Hey, Jim, stop grabbin’ my ass.”

“You gave him your pinky ring.  You sly dog.”

“Well, he gave me a Surakian Vulcan coin, so I thought I’d do something nice in return.  It’s the least I can do for the poor guy--I mean Jim, you never told him about Las Vegas?   You know all the craziness that will happen?”

Jim shrugged.  “Ahhh,  he’ll be fine.  Vegas is tame compared to Wrigleys.”

“The hell it is, the place has changed alot in the last 20 years.  Gotten wilder.  Never told him about Liberace?  Jim?”

Jim wrinkled up his nose.  “Liberace?  Spock’ll be fine, Bones.” Jim patted him on the shoulder.  “Come to my quarters after shift, I’ll show you some options regarding the ceremony.”

“Gee, I dunno, Jim.  I invited Spock over for dinner.  By the way, when ARE we gonna do this?”

“Well, as you know it’ll take about two standard weeks to reach earth.  So I have the date planned on Stardate 2270.67.  We’ll do the ceremony as soon as possible and then have the rest of the two weeks leave to party.”

“Alright. Good.  Just wondering.  Actually Spock was curious.”

“You invited Spock over for dinner?” Jim nudged him with his elbow.

“Yeah, can’t a guy have dinner with his fake fiance?”  With that the doors swooshed open to reveal the first officer.  “Well, Speak of the devil,” McCoy muttered.

“Good Morning, Dr McCoy.  Good morning, Captain.”  Spock put his card into the slot.  It opened to give him his plomeek soup.  

“Wait a second, Mr. Spock,” Jim said.  “S’posed to greet your captain first, then the chief medical officer.”

“Since the doctor is my fiance,” Spock replied, “I must beg to differ with you, Captain.”

“Fake fiance, Spock.  He’s right, Jim.  I get special treatment now.”

Jim scowled.  “Oh.  That’s not fair.”

“He’s not marrying you, Jim.”

Jim slurped his coffee.  “Whatever you say, you two.”

*

“This was a delicious dinner, Leonard.”

“Thank you, Spock.  Kinda nice when I can use the galley instead of these reconstituted meals.  Only on special occasions.  You didn’t know I could make plomeek soup, did ya?  More brandy?”

“One more.”

McCoy refilled his glass.  “I’ve never known Vulcans to consume alcohol.”

“We do on occasion.”

“Do you guys drink champagne?”

“I have never tried it.”

“Probably shouldn’t have it at our reception,” McCoy said.   “I don’t think I can handle a drunk Vulcan.  Oh wait a moment, Jim told me when the wedding ceremony was going to be held.  He’s got a wedding date set for us.”

“Yes, Jim informed me as soon as we orbit earth, approximately two standard weeks from now.”

“So we have a two week engagement.  Kinda fun, don’t you think, Spock?” McCoy grinned in spite of himself.

“A wedding on Vulcan is a solemn occasion,” Spock said.

“Yeah, I witnessed your Vulcan wedding ceremony, remember?  Vegas won’t be anything like that.  Thank God.”

Spock nodded.

*

“Goodness gracious, Bones,” Jim said. “You two were spotted up there in that observation lounge again.  No wonder the tongues have been waggling.”

“So what, let them waggle.  I don’t care.”

“Yeah, but they saw you two making out up there--are you sure you want this to be a fake wedding, Bones?  I could make this a real one, if you really insisted, I’d bring it to Stocker’s attention.”

“We were not making out up there, because we were just sitting there.  Talking.  He and I have never made out.  Never even kissed.  That’s bullshit!  This is Spock we’re talking about.  Vulcans don’t make out!  We’re not a couple!  We’re just friends, enjoying our fake engagement, for crying out loud.”

Jim held up his hands.  “Okay, okay!  No need to get testy, Bones.”

“Making out.  Yeah right.  Even if I wanted to with Spock...Like he’s gonna go for somebody like me.”

“He might.  You never know.”

“No way.  I’m not his type.”

“What’s his type?”

“I dunno, Jim but it ain’t me.”

“Alright, fine.”  Jim jumped up from his desk.  “Cheer up, Bones!  I have the wedding chapel all reserved for you!  And believe me it is so satisfyingly tacky you will be in hog heaven.  It’s called the Chapel of the Bells.  Right on the strip.  Got a sleazy motel right next to it.  Neon sign that blinks "XXX" and "Strippers".  Got pink flamingos inside the chapel, plastic flowers, you name it, it’s got it.”

“Hmmm,” McCoy said, grumbling.  

“What do you mean, ‘hmmm’?  Oh, you’re not still mad over the scuttlebutt, are ya?  It’s harmless.”

“We were not fooling around up there, Jim.  He and I have some decorum and respect.  Jeeze.  Spock would be appalled if he knew what they were saying.”

“I think he knows.”

“Ah hell, you did’t tell him, did you?”

“Nurse Chapel did.”

McCoy harumphed at that.  

Jim rubbed his shoulder.  “Ah, Bones.  I have a surprise for you.”

“What?”

“I got myself an Elvis costume.  So I can officiate as Elvis!”

McCoy wrinkled up his face in glee.  “Can you do ‘Elvis’?”

Jim cleared throat.  “Thank you, thank you very much.”

“Hey!  That’s actually pretty damned good, Jim!   You can’t sing though...”

“Yeah, that’ll be the other Elvis.  The singer.  He’ll come out and do a few songs, sing your entrance, stuff like that.  So you’ll have two Elvises, at the wedding.”

“Elvi,” McCoy corrected.

*

The Enterprise glided towards it’s destination, Earth.

McCoy couldn’t tell you how many ‘congratulations’ he’d received throughout his shift from various crew.  He didn’t have the heart to explain to every one of them, it wasn’t to be a real ceremony.  So he just let them think it was.  They when they came back from Vegas he could lie and say they’d gotten it annulled or something.  Cross that bridge when they came to it.

Meanwhile, Spock sat at the table in McCoy’s quarters and had his mouth chomped on a vulcan delicacy.  Aleieu’te it was called.  McCoy could barely pronounce it, but he looked up the recipe and fixed it for the Vulcan.  “You like it, Spock?” he asked.

“It is delectable.  I had no idea you could cook.”

“One of my many talents.  And here, I have a surprise for you.  Computer, play Liberace tape one.”  

“Working.”

The sounds of piano music came on.  

Spock listened to it, nodded in approval.  

McCoy toyed with his spoon.  “Spock what do you plan on wearing to this little ceremony of ours?”

“My dress uniform, of course.”

McCoy smiled and glanced at the ring on Spock’s pinky.  “Of course.”

*

“Bones!  Just the man I wanted to see!” Jim said as McCoy strode through the cabin door.  

“Yeah, Jim I uh--”

“Still wearing that gaudy ring, huh?  You know if you’re not giving it to Spock you might as well give it back to me.”

“Fine.  You want it back?  You can have it back.”  McCoy tugged on the ring but it wouldn’t budge.  “It’s stuck.  I can’t get it off!”

“It’s stuck?” Jim said.  “Soap!  Soap will help remove it!”

They dove into the captain’s bathroom, got the shower gel and put it on McCoy’s finger.  It still wouldn’t budge.  “Dammit!” Jim said.

McCoy simply chuckled.  “I guess I have to keep it.  Or I’ll have to cut it off in sickbay.”

“No! Don’t do that!” Jim said.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s real gold.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this a real ruby?”

“Yes.  And real diamonds around it.  You probably gained some weight with all those fancy dinners you’ve been having with Spock.”

“What fancy dinners?”

“The ones you’ve been cooking for him.  Yeah, Rand told me he was in your quarters again.  That’s every night this week!”

“So?”

“So pretty soon he’ll be spending the night.”

“He ain’t gonna be spending the night.  This is Spock we’re talking about.  Nothing going on between me and my fake fiance, Jim.  Alright?”

“Uh huh.  Well anyway, look what I’ve got for you.” Jim pulled out a box, opened the lid, unwrapped the tissue paper and held the garment up for McCoy.  “Your tuxedo tee-shirt.  I believe I bought the correct size.  Try it on.”

McCoy took it from him and donned it.   

Jim laughed hysterically at the sight. “You look great, Bones!  With my Elvis costume and your Tuxedo T-shirt--hey we should get Spock to wear a Tux Tee shirt, too.”

McCoy shook his head.  “I don’t think so, Jim.”

“No?”

“No.  In fact, I changed my mind about my attire.”

“You want to dress up like Elvis, too?  Oh man, that could be alot of fun.  Spock could dress like Elvis and we could have an Elvis themed wedding--’The Three Elvi’ and you two could two could say your vows like Elvis--‘hey baby, do you take this Vulcan to be your hubby?’  ‘ah huh huh!’  ‘thank you, thank you very much!’”

“It’s not funny, Jim.  No, in fact, I’ve decided I’m wearing my dress uniform.”

“To what?”

“To the ceremony and reception.”

“Oh, how boring, Bones.   I thought you hate wearing that thing.  Always complaining about your neck feeling like it’s in a sling.”

“I hate it, alright.  But I think it’s more appropriate.”

“Is Spock wearing his?”

“Maybe.  But that’s not the reason why I’m wearing mine.”

“I bet it is.”

“It is not.”

*

He was listening to music (alright he admitted it was Liberace’s greatest hits) in Spock’s quarters, when his eyes began to get heavy.  “Mmmm,” he groaned.  “I’m sleepy.  I should go back home, but we haven’t reached the end of the album.”

“You can lay on my bunk if you’d like.”  He cast a sharp glance over at the Vulcan who added:  “I will remain on the couch.”

“Are you sure?  Beats having to walk back to deck seven.”

Spock nodded at him and he lay down on Spock’s bunk.  Promptly falling asleep.

The next morning at 0500 he tried to sneak out of Spock’s quarters, but of course Jim spotted him.  “Morning, Bones!”

“Morning, Jim.”  They got into the turbolift together.  “Isn’t what it looks like, Jim.”

“Bullshit, Bones.”

*

There was a week to go before they reached Earth and the wedding.  Various members of the crew made noise about wanting to witness it and it appeared that Jim had caved in.  

“Bones, Scotty wants to come too--I mean it’s Vegas after all-- and I could hardly say no....”

“Well, that’s alright, Jim.  He can stand up for me,” McCoy said.

“And I thought of inviting Uhura as his date.”

“Alright, Jim, that’s good.   She can stand up for Spock.”

“And then I figured I couldn’t invite Uhura without inviting the rest of the bridge crew.  So Sulu and Chekov will be there.”

“That’s fine.”

“And then I figured I couldn’t invite the crew I work with most of the time, if I didn’t invite the crew YOU worked with most of the time.  So I invited M’Benga, Chapel, and Sanchez.”

"Alright, Jim."

“And I figured I couldn’t invite all these people without inviting my own personal yeoman, so Rand is coming along too.”

“Wait a minute, Jim,” McCoy said.  “Stocker is gonna foot the bill for all these extra people?”

“Well, not exactly.  I have to uh...chip in for the others.  So, I’m paying for them to attend the ceremony and reception but they’re on their own for accommodations.   I mean they have two weeks shoreleave anyway, right?”

“I dunno!  You’re the captain!”

“Right!  So, y’know--we’ll still be able to fit those extra folks in the wedding chapel and believe me, they’re looking forward to the Elvis ceremony at Chapel of the Bells!  That’s gonna be hysterical!  And since you won’t wear your Tuxedo T-shirt, I’m gonna let Chekov have it.”

“Time is it, Jim?  Can’t see the chrono from here.”

“1900.”

“Oops, gotta go, gonna be late.”

“For your date with Spock?”

“It’s not a date, Jim.  We’re just...hanging out together.  Me and my fake fiance.”

“Uh huh.”

*

It was on their ‘date’ that Spock sprang something on him.  “Leonard, as you know it is a week before the ceremony.”

“Yes.  It sure is.”

“I must inform you that It is customary for a Vulcan to go into a week’s seclusion from their betrothed at this time.”

McCoy scrunched up his face.  “You mean, you don’t want to see me?”

“I cannot.  Not until the ceremony is held.”

“But...but...” he sputtered.  “Well that’s a little tricky, being as we’re both senior officers of a starship.  We have a staff meeting tomorrow, we both have to show up to that, how are we--”

“I shall send in a proxy, who will relay to me every detail of the meeting.”

“I was hoping I could send M’Benga instead,” McCoy told him.  Staff meetings got pretty damned boring and they were always first thing in the morning and he needed several cups of coffee to get through them.  

“As first officer I have the right.”

“Oh, pulling rank on your fake fiance?”

Spock reached over and touched him on the hand.  “I must go now.  I shall retire to my quarters in meditation and contemplation.  For one week.  We must do our best to avoid each other’s presence.”

“All this, over a fake wedding?”

“Affirmative.”

Spock strode out the doors and McCoy sat at his desk, brooding.  “Uhhhh, how do you like that.”

*

So he and Spock had to avoid each other.  Spock was doing a pretty damned good job of it too, because McCoy didn’t see him at all.  He didn’t want to admit to himself how much he missed that damned hobgoblin.  He did his part by keeping himself from heading up to the bridge as was customary for him.  Instead he stuck to his usual sickbay and office.  The first officer avoided the officer’s mess and the rec room and they never happened past each other in the lift or corridors or the labs.  

McCoy supposed if somebody really wanted to avoid another on the Enterprise, it was possible.  

He was glumly nursing his third brandy when his door chimed.  “Come.”

Jim strode through the doors.  “Why so sad?  Your wedding is in three days.  I can’t wait to orbit Earth.  I think our ETA is going to be a little early.” He clapped his hands together.  “Oh, Bones, I need that song list to give to the musical Elvis.  And here.  I’m to give this to you.” He handed over a package.  “This is from your betrothed.”

“My fake betrothed?” McCoy muttered.  

“What’s the matter, Bones?”

“Nuthin’.”

“Open it.”

McCoy tore off the elaborate wrap and gasped.  According to Spock’s note, it was a real book of traditional Vulcan wedding vows.  

“That’s gorgeous, Bones.” Jim said, whistling.  Bones glared at him. Somehow it seemed sacrilege to whistle in the book’s presence.  He ran his finger down the page, down the gold leaf, the embossed Vulcan letters.

“Too bad you can’t understand the writing,” Jim told him.

“Yeah,” McCoy said.  “Too bad.”  He finally closed the book.  “Tell him, I’m honored.  And to stop spoiling me.”

“I almost think he likes you.”

“We’re just...fake engaged, that’s all, Jim.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“I’ll just be glad when this is all over with and things are back to normal.”

“Oh.  Alright.  Well, I better go.  See you later, Bones.”

“Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“Sit down, have a drink.  I want to talk to you.”

“What is it?”

McCoy sat for a moment, hesitated.  “I don’t want to get fake married at Chapel of the Bells.  I don’t want an Elvis wedding.”

“You backing out?  Bones!  No!”

“No, I’m not backing out.  I want a nicer wedding.”

“Nicer?”

“Yeah, as in not tacky.”

“No Elvis?”

“No.”

“No pink flamingos?”

“No.”

“What about the pink caddie?  I forgot to tell you I have one reserved just for you and Spock.”

“No.  I want a nice wedding.  In a fancy hotel.  Beautiful chapel, real flowers, petals strewn on the aisle.  I want you to wear your dress uniform.  I want Scotty and Uhura to wear theirs, too.  In fact I want everybody to wear dress.”

Jim took a deep breath.  “What about the reception?”

“That better have been swanky in the first place, Jim.”

“You still want the Liberace impersonator to play piano?”

“Oh yeah, we still want that.”

“We?”

McCoy looked at Jim.  “We like Liberace.”

*

He paid Uhura a visit and had her translate the text for him.  “Teach me how to say this, Nyota,” McCoy said.

*

Jim came to see him in his office.  They were finally orbiting Earth.  

“Bones you sure don’t ask much, do ya?  It took a bit of fancy finagling but I managed to reserve the nicest wedding chapel in Las Vegas.  It’s at the Trump Hotel.  You’re gonna love it.”

“Don’t tell me about it Jim, just let me be surprised.  As long as it’s nice.”

“Yeah well, I ran into a snag with the wedding plans.”

“Oh?”

“Trump Hotel insists I must be a licensed officiant.  Even if the ceremony ends up not being legally binding.”

“What about Commodore Stocker?”

“He said that was fine.  So I got my license.  I’m officially a minister now.”

McCoy smiled, shook his head and rolled his eyes.  

“So now,” Jim continued. “You’ll get a notification from Clark County if you want the marriage to be legal, so you’ll press the button ‘no’ and it’ll dump the marriage license.  Alright?”

“That sounds fine, Jim.”

Jim wondered:  “Bones, are you and Spock gonna kiss at the end of the vows?  Should I tell Spock he can kiss you?”

“I don’t know, Jim.  I don’t think so.”

“Would you be willing to kiss him?  On the mouth?”

McCoy took a deep breath.  He hadn’t thought about it.  “I don’t...see that happening.  I mean, this is Spock we’re talking about, so he’s not going to put his lips on another in public.”

“Alright, Bones.  Just asking.  I’ll delete that bit from the ceremony.”  Jim glanced down and noticed the Vulcan book on McCoy’s desk.  “I told him you liked the gift.”

McCoy held up his hand and recited a paragraph in flawless Vulcan.  

Jim’s mouth dropped open.  “Damned show off.  Uhura been working with you?  You don’t want to give your vows in Vulcan, do you?”

“No, we don’t have to go that far.  Just a little wedding gift for Spock, that’s all.”

Jim shook his head and muttered under his breath.  “So, we’re set for the wedding.  Oh, by the way, I invited the whole entire ship.  Figured that the hotel chapel can seat 300 so might as well.  And they’re all coming to the reception.”

“Good God, Jim, that’s gonna be a tidy sum.”

“Yeah,” Jim said.  “Don’t say I never did nothing for ya.  See you later, Bones.”

*

The chapel turned out to be beautiful with rows of buddha statues and flowers and a waterfall all lit up.  It was outdoors and at midnight and under the stars, with rows of little fairy lights and lanterns strung up.  Breathtaking.  

McCoy sat fretting in the dressing room, until Scotty came to summon him, handing him a rose boutonniere.  “Well, this is it, huh?” he told Scotty who clasped his arm, squeezing it.  

Scotty walked him down the aisle, and everybody was in full dress, the entire crew of the Enterprise.  All grinning at him, not an Elvis in sight.  

At the head of the chapel, Spock reached out to him and they clasped hands and seeing the Vulcan again was a shock after a week of no contact, the butterflies in his stomach were flapping around and he could hardly breathe and he could almost pretend that this was real, it felt real, in fact it actually WAS real, now that Jim was a licensed minister.  But as soon as he dumped the marriage license the next morning, then it would cease.  But he could worry about that later on.

They said their vows and Jim did everything perfectly but when they came to the end, Jim hesitated slightly.  He said:  “I now pronounce you spouses as the authority vested in me by Clark County.”

Then Spock shocked the hell out of him, when he whispered to the captain:  “I would like to kiss, if that is appropriate.”  

“If Dr. McCoy is willing?”

They both looked at him.  

“Yes, that’s fine,” McCoy said.  “Go ahead, Spock.”

Now he’d done mouth to mouth recesitation on Spock before when Spock fell into that lake so they’d had the intimate contact before but still he wasn’t prepared for when Spock cradled his face with his hands and met his lips.  There was a gasp from the assembled and he found that his hand had slid up Spock’s back and for some reason he got a little tingly during it, it aroused him, kissing Spock, who could actually kiss pretty damned well.  

His eyes widened when Spock finally broke away.  It dazed him.  Sure as hell wasn’t expecting that!

Cheers erupted and they walked down the aisle together hand in hand.

*

The reception was hoppin’.   They cut the six tiered wedding cake, fed it to each other.  McCoy couldn’t help but smash it into the Vulcan’s face, of which the Vulcan hadn't seemed at all phased, simply licked the frosting off his face and McCoy chuckled.   The photographer took lots of pictures.  They had a champagne toast just like any traditional wedding.  Jim had obviously been coaching the Vulcan on what to do, because he played his part perfectly.  Liberace was at the piano now, requisite candelabra in place and he was pretty damned good, the impersonator, you couldn’t even tell the difference.  Wow, Jim spent a ton of credits.  Lots of good food, champagne, you name it and all 300 crew were here.  

And as this was Las Vegas there were showgirl waitresses wearing nothing but pieces of feather to cover their intimate parts.  McCoy could see Spock staring at them, with a raised eyebrow.  He chuckled at the sight.  This was all new for the Vulcan.  

McCoy sipped on a glass of champagne and stared out of the huge picture window in the corner.  They were up on the penthouse, and the view was stunning, all the lights.  

He felt a presence at his elbow, immediately knew it to be his fake husband, before he even looked over.  

“Evening, Spock.”

“Good evening, Leonard.”

The reception wound down, well it was four in the morning.  

There was a wedding suite waiting for the both of them on the other side of the penthouse.  They could have roomed separately but they went ahead and decided to share--get more perks from the casino, being a honeymooning couple.  

McCoy removed his dress uniform, and Spock hung it up for him and McCoy laughed his head off and stood in his underwear looking out the huge window.  

There was a Jacuzzi in the floor, right next to another huge window.  McCoy pointed to it, “We’re going in that tomorrow.  Ever been in a hot tub?”  

“I have not.”

“Well you’re in for a treat.  It'll feel just like normal temperature to you, but it will be all bubbly and soothing.”

“Indeed?”

“Yeah.”

He was tipsy, of course and he suspected Spock was too, who’d also sampled the champagne so they fell asleep in the king sized bed.  They had to share, there wasn’t another bed and the bed was huge and heart shaped so they had lots of room to sprawl out.

When McCoy woke in the afternoon of the next day, he found himself snuggled against Spock.  Well, old habits die hard, he used to like to snuggle with the Ex.  “Sorry,” he muttered and moved away, sitting up in bed.   

He reached over to touch the Vulcan who woke with a start.  

“Hey,” McCoy said.  “Sorry, I thought you were already awake.”

Spock’s hair was rumpled and he was sleep lined and McCoy noted the Vulcan was also in his underwear, he didn’t remember Spock getting into bed like that, and he had to admit the sight of him was--

“I have never slept that soundly before,” Spock said.

“I know, huh?  This bed is so comfortable, I want to bring it aboard ship.”

“A large heart shaped bed would not fit into our quarters.”

McCoy chuckled.  He jumped up from the bed.  “I’m starving.  Jim said we can have unlimited room service.”

“Excellent.”  

McCoy took a shower while they waited for the food.  After they ate, McCoy turned on the jets of the jacuzzi.  “Oh shit.”

“What is it?”

“I forgot my swim trunks.  Well, I hope you don’t mind if I get in naked, do you?”

“I do not mind.  Vulcans swim in the nude.”

“They do, huh?”

“Affirmative.”

He grabbed a white fluffy towel, tossed one over to Spock.  “Last one in’s a rotten egg.”  He dove into the water, shrieking out in delight.  

Spock got in too.  “Fascinating.”

“They’re great, aren’t they?”

At that, the door chimed.  “Aw, who the hell is that?  Pestering us in our honeymoon suite?  Can’t be room service again, could it?  Did you order more champagne, Spock?”

“Negative.”

“Maybe if we ignore them--they’ll go away.”

“That sounds...logical.”

“Nope, baby, you don’t get to say the word ‘logic’ on our fake honeymoon.”

Whoever it was, wouldn’t go away.  The annoying jerk kept on that damned buzzer.  

They got out, dripping water everywhere, putting towels around their waists.  “Guess we should go see who it is,” McCoy growled out.  They crept up to the front door and looked at the monitor.  “Oh goddammit, it’s Jim.  Probably wants to take us to a show or the casino.”  Should we open up the door?”

“He will not go away, otherwise.”

“Hmm.  Hey Spock, I have an idea, play along, will you?”

“Certainly.”

McCoy grabbed Spock around the waist, got himself as close to the Vulcan as possible, planted a kiss on Spock’s mouth as he opened up the door.  

There was a gasp and a hiccup as the door opened up.  “Oh, hi guys.”

McCoy broke away from Spock’s mouth, making sure to show it was reluctantly.  He stared into Spock’s eyes as dreamily as he could then nibbled on the Vulcan's neck.  “Spock, is somebody there?”

“I believe so.”

“Maybe they can’t read--because I do believe it says right on the door ‘do not disturb’ doesn’t it, my sweet snookums?”

“I believe it does.”

“So why are we being bothered on our honeymoon?”

“I do not know, Leonard.”

McCoy ground his hips into Spock’s for effect.  “Did you want something, Jim?” he said breathlessly.

“Uh, no. I didn’t want anything.”

“Y’sure now?  I mean there must be some reason why y’all are bothering us.”

“Well, I brought some champagne and thought we’d have a toast before we went to see a Cirque show.  I got us front row seats.”

“Mmmm, maybe Scotty and Uhura want to go instead,” McCoy said, still looking into Spock’s eyes.  “We’re on our fake honeymoon.”

“Doesn’t seem very fake to me,” Jim muttered.  “Alright guys, have fun.  See you later when you can come up for air.”

“Mmmm don’t count on it, Jim.  We got two whole weeks to get to know each other better.”

“Alright, alright, now you’re getting creepy. You made your point.  Bye.”  And with that, Jim was gone.  

McCoy glanced out of the doorway, looked both ways down the hallway.  He picked up the bottle of champagne Jim had left on the floor.  

They shut the door and McCoy broke down in hysterical laughter.  “Showed him, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

“That’ll teach that bastard.”

“Teach him what?”

McCoy shrugged. He heard his PADD buzzing and he went over and retrieved it.  He was still chuckling when he scrolled through the messages.  “Oh, here’s the Clark County marriage license.”

“Ah,” Spock called back.  He was already back in that damned jacuzzi.   

“Yeah, I’ll just get rid of it, real quick.  Tell it ‘no’.”

He pushed the button and the reply said:  “Congratulations, you are now official married.  License has been filed with Clark County registry office."  

“Wait a minute!” McCoy sputtered.  “Wait a minute--that can’t be right.” 

“Leonard?” Spock called back.

“That can’t be right!  That’s impossible!  I pressed ‘no’!”

“What happened?”

McCoy trudged back over to the jacuzzi, solemnly got into it and showed the PADD to the Spock.  “Oops.”

“We are married.”

“For reals.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry!  I pushed ‘no’, at least I thought I did, these goddamned PADD’s!”  He held up a hand.  “But I can fix that.  Tomorrow morning, I’ll contact Clark County and have it annulled, don’t you worry about a thing, Spock.”

Spock nodded.  “We could have it annulled.”

“We will, don’t you worry about that!  Sorry, I made a mistake--”

“Or we could remain married.”

McCoy’s breath hitched.  “You mean, for real?  Married for real?  But we’re not a--”

“But we could be.”

“A couple?” McCoy breathed.  He got out of the jacuzzi and walked towards the window, staring out of it.  He clutched the PADD, wished he could chuck the thing over the side.  His breathing increased, those butterflies came back, ten fold.  “A couple?”

Spock appeared next to him at the window.  The sun was setting and it was beautiful behind him.  If we are to marry for real, I should give you this.  He held up a wedding band and slid it onto McCoy’s finger.  He raised an eyebrow.  McCoy stared back at him a moment, then grumbled and did a few notations on the PADD, then held out his hand.  Another ring materialized.  He held it up and slid the other ring on Spock’s ring finger.  They hadn’t exchanged rings during the ceremony--Jim wanted to give them silly fake rings and they both had protested--so they had cut that part out.

"Spock," McCoy said.  "You're in love with me.  Aren't you."

"As you are in love with me."

"Yeah, but I hid it pretty well, didn't I?"

Spock shook his head.

“Well, then,” McCoy said.  “I guess I should say this.”  He recited the Vulcan wedding vows he'd learned from Uhura.  

Spock smiled at him and said them back.

“Shouldn’t we have a...Vulcan ceremony, Spock?”

“We will, later on.”  Spock held out two fingers to McCoy.

------------------

The End.