Title: Outside 2/?
Author: Yami no Kaiba
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: G
Chracter/Pairing: McCoy, Kirk/Spock
Length: 1,384 words

Summary: McCoy notices, even if they don't.
Disclaimers: I do not own the characters or the concepts of Star Trek in any of its forms.
Warning: I have no clue where this is going, besides vague hopes of an OT3, and thus I'm going to try to end each chapter in a way that you'll be vaguely satisfied if it ends there.

*---*---*---*---*

As much as he hates the ship, space, the shuttles, and that hinky mechanical monster they call a transporter -- he's read about the damn things, and it's a sad day when he starts thinking that shuttles are safer but the damn thing can literally put a person back together inside-out -- Leonard loves stepping foot on the firm earth of an alien planet.

There are natural colors and moving fresh air, the sweet smell of foliage, and more often than not there are beings in need of his care, whether it is a member of the crew or one of the natives.

If there's one thing he's done right in his life -- other than bringing his beautiful baby girl into the world -- it's being a damned good doctor.

Unless it's an emergency -- and unfortunately there are too many of those -- he always makes a point to take the time for a deep breath before moving on.

He's got the time so he's taking one right now, head tilted back with a smile on his face as he feels the warmth of the sun touch his skin. His hands are clasped and raised above his head in a nice, leisurely stretch that gets him rocking right up onto his toes.

It's amazing what a change of scenery can do for a person.

There's a true smile on his face for the first time in weeks, and he breaks the stretch and rocks back onto his heels. He looks over towards Jim, mouth already open to comment on nature, and the good it would do the crew for some shore leave, when he's stopped cold and feels the smile slip away.

Spock's brushing his fingertips against the back of Jim's hand, but his eyes are lowered to his tricorder. Jim's got the goofiest but most sincere smile Leonard's ever seen him have, that same damn smile he'd had when the Admiralty had given Jim the Enterprise when they'd gotten back to Earth the first time.

And he'd be okay with that, he really would, because fuck if Spock and Jim don't do these little displays when they think no one's looking. But it is Jim's blue eyes, the way they're only looking at Spock, only seeing Spock. It's a punch to the gut right after the feel of unbounded happiness that he'd just been reveling in.

Apparently he's been staring too long, because Spock's now looking up at him, those questing fingers drawing back from Jim. Leonard doesn't know exactly what he's giving away, he's always been told he has an expressive face, so he tries to cover but even he can tell the smile doesn't feel right.

And now Jim's staring at him too, with that twinkle in his eye that Leonard's seen dozens of times in the Academy. The one that usually ended with Jim not being in their dorm room at lights out, but always back for a shower with rumpled clothes, loose limbs, and a smug air about him the morning after.

"I'll just be... over there," he says, waving vaguely in some direction to his right and tries not to give the appearance of running away as he walks off.

"Doctor," Spock says behind him in a strong voice, and it makes him pause. He's about to turn around, because Spock usually doesn't talk like that unless he's got something important to say, but his heart really doesn't want to see them at the moment.

But then Jim says, "Let him be, Spock," with that 'fuck me' voice of his, and that just makes Leonard want to get the hell out of there before he hears things he won't be able to forget --

There's a snap under his leading foot, and suddenly the ground isn't as firm as it should be as the leaf litter comes to life and he's falling and rising at the same time.

It's just his fucking luck that he ends up walking into a rope trap. He grips the rope net and squirms around until he gets the trick of putting enough tension on certain lines to stabilize the grid work. By the time he's sitting as comfortably as one can, Jim and Spock are below him, and Jim's giving him the evil eye, as if he'd meant to trip into trouble.

"Like I was about to warn you," Spock said, in that smug little voice that only Leonard and Jim ever seem to notice, "the first away team mentioned armed hunting traps found in that direction."

This just wasn't his day, he decided. Especially seeing as Jim was giving him those little glares the entire time the two were cutting him down.

Of course, it's when his feet are on the ground again, and Jim's slapping him on the back in that way of his, that the natives come out, spears leveled.

It's so, so not his day.

*---*---*

Leonard blinks, and takes another shot of his first -- or is it his second? Second, since there's an empty one resting over on Jim's wall divider -- bottle of Saurian brandy. The three of them are in Jim's quarters, sitting back and -- supposedly -- relaxing after a SNAFU mission.

Jim's got his left arm in a sling and Spock's sitting straighter due to the bandages wound tight around his ribs; though one wouldn’t really notice a difference because Spock always sits straight like that. Hell, if Leonard hadn't been the one to tape the gauze around that hairy chest, he wouldn’t see the way Spock has his shoulders back and spine straight more than usual.

Right now, though, his eyes are as riveted as Spock's are on how Jim is absently rubbing the head of a previously captured bishop along his lips.

But it's the flicker of movement under those long blond lashes that gives away that Jim knows exactly what he's doing, as those blue eyes move between the board he's considering for his next move, and the knowing impish glances he's taking of Spock's reactions.

He's pretty sure they've forgotten he's sitting here, as he's been quiet after the first half bottle, just enjoying the murmur of their conversation on field reports and such, because it's either they've forgotten he’s here or Jim's just that fucking shameless. And while some might automatically say that yeah, Jim's that shameless, Jim is Leonard's friend, and he should give the little shit the benefit of the doubt.

No, wait, only Jim's forgotten he's there. Spock's giving Leonard that look. The one that's both exasperated and questioning -- and may Leonard get killed on the next away mission if that’s not an open invitation to get lost, Vulcan style.

He wants to stay, but knows he should get the fuck out -- he's not his Grandpa, damn it, he doesn't want to be the cranky drunk in the corner rocking chair, undermining the self-confidence and well-being of everyone that passes by with pointed truthful barbs that sink deep until someone's -- Mama, his poor frail Mama, and fuck, Leonard, don't think about that now -- crying and wasting away little by little because of the depressive atmosphere, despite the young boy sitting at the counter island with the day’s newest test score --

Fuck. Leonard swings back his head, tilting the bottle and practically guzzling down the last of this bottle, before sloppily slamming the empty glass against the surface of a side table and standing. "Gu'd ev'ning, Spock, Jim."

There's a polite murmur of responses from the two of them as he nearly smacks into the wall beside the door before he's out of Jim's rooms and shuffling down the corridors to his own mostly empty ones.

There's another bottle of Saurian brandy -- they'd stocked up pretty well at the last port – on his side table, and while he knows he should probably save it for another rainy day, he breaks the seal and tips it back as he drops heavily onto the mattress.

Even if it's for a little bit, he needs to drink and just forget for now.

When he wakes up sprawled out on the covers of a cold bed with a splitting headache the next day, that's just par for the course.

--TBC