Green-Blooded Matchmaker (Bones x Reader TrekFest 2017)
Pairing: AOS Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Reader, featuring nosy!matchmaking!Spocko
Rating: PG for language because McCoy is a potty mouth doctor and drug mention
A/N: Guess who did some heavy tweaking to their unfinished Spock Week fic to create THIS beautiful mess. :) Also, dammit guys I am a writer not a doctor (nor a biochemist) so please excuse any technobabble/misattributed terms. (See also: Sara slips in a Hidden Figures reference because she deserves it.)
You really, really did not know how you weren’t in trouble yet.
Yes, you had five reports to turn in to Commander Spock-- being on his elite research team made work a little more high pressure-- and only two of them were done. Yes, you had a live skin cell to examine and a very short time to get it done before it became useless. No, you could not continue any of your studies and theses until you examined said skin cell.
Unfortunately for you, though, you had your fifth high-priority examination with Dr. McCoy in less than a week, and everyone knew how much the good doctor hated to be kept waiting. (See: any of the grumpy rants you heard McCoy let loose on the captain from the vents leading a floor up from your biochem lab to the medbay.)
This is why you were sitting in said medbay, perched on a biobed and absently twisting the hem of your uniform as you waited on the Southern doctor.
“Oh,” he had the audacity to look surprised when he came in, “Lieutenant. You’re not scheduled for another twenty minutes.”
“Well, you do get rather busy with Captain Kirk,” you noted. “I figured we might as well get done with this as soon as possible.”
“Bless you and your punctuality, Y/L/N,” he sighed, hazel eyes poring over his PADD.
“Well, when you work under Mr. Spock,” you began.
“Say no more.”
You knew very well the relationship between your superior and Dr. McCoy. More specifically, you knew how abrasively each tended to behave toward the other. Mr. Spock was a paragon of logic and order; nothing in his labs was ever out of place, nor was a notation ever misfiled. No one on Spock’s staff was ever late or disorganized-- ever. Like goes with like, after all. You knew little about the doctor outside of the fact that he was grumpy (usually) and very, very sarcastic. You admired his crass wit from afar; your paths had little reason to cross outside of working in similar fields, and anyone Spock enjoyed being around, McCoy tended to avoid (outside of Jim).
“Now,” the doctor looked over what you presumed was your file, “you’re here for a standard exam?”
“That was last month, Doctor.”
“...damn, damnit, right, shit. Vision test?”
“A week ago.”
“Fuck. I swear, I had you marked in here for something...shit, sorry, I’m looking.”
“You asked to check for potential contamination due to my close work with the tissues from our last stop.”
Dr. McCoy squinted down through your file again before finding the exam you had just mentioned.
“Well, shit. You’re right. Sorry.”
You shrugged, “Well, I’ve had so many tests in the last few weeks, I don’t really blame you, Doctor.”
You thought you saw the faintest, tiniest, most miniscule excuse for a flush in the doctor’s face at his disorganization, but you absolutely had to be seeing things.
“Just lie back and hold still, it’ll only be a moment.”
You did as told, feeling the biobed buzz and whir underneath you, before you heard the medbay doors swish open.
“Dr. McCoy,” the familiarly monotone voice announced his arrival.
“Dammit, Spock, what is it?”
“It is imperative that I speak to Lieutenant Y/L/N.”
“Well, can it fucking wait until I’m done with this?”
“Very well.”
You didn’t hear the doors move again, so you internally groaned and realized you were absolutely in trouble for spending so much time in the medbay and getting behind on your reports. There was no way you weren’t headed for another night of overtime.
“All clear, Lieutenant,” McCoy said.
Spock didn’t even give you time to thank the doctor before striding out of the medbay with a quick, “Come along, Lieutenant.”
You gave Dr. McCoy a quick look mixing exasperation and apology as you followed your boss out and down the corridor to the turbo lift.
“Have you completed the analyses on the new species we encountered?” he asked, keeping his back straight and arms neatly folded behind him.
“I’ve got the reports 40% done,” you shifted nervously. “My research keeps getting interrupted.”
“By whom?” Spock quirked his eyebrow.
“Doctor McCoy keeps finding medical tests that I haven’t gotten completed yet,” you explained. “I knew my transfer from the USS Johnson would encompass a lot of paperwork, but I have to ask, is this normal procedure for the Enterprise?”
“No, protocol does not mandate this level of medical assessment. ...I will speak with Dr. McCoy shortly.”
“Thank you,” you sighed. You were more than ready to finish your work in peace.
You looked at your near-dead skin cell and sighed. You really could have used those twenty minutes.
Damn those attractive doctors.
You were certain you could get the machine to work if you kept mashing the button. You were already in a groggy, grumpy morning mood; you did not need another reason to punch whoever crossed your path.
“Is something the matter, Lieutenant?”
It took all the strength in your bones to not lash out and castrate your boss with your favorite coffee mug.
“The replicator on this floor isn’t working,” you grumbled.
The Vulcan was somehow still completely calm about this-- you were contemplating asking for whatever he was smoking.
“Yes, engineers will be available to repair it shortly. You must use the replicator on the medical level instead.”
You let out a hard sigh. Your skin cell from the previous day had been impossible to save and use; it would be an understatement to say that you were not particularly happy with Doctor McCoy.
Still, you needed coffee to prevent yourself from murdering everyone you encountered that day, so you trudged to the turbo lift and marched your way past all the nurses and techs to the replicator near Dr. McCoy’s office.
Clearly, the doctor didn’t see you mooching his replicator, because he poked his head outside upon seeing you.
“Lieutenant? What brings you by?”
“Coffee,” you pointed to the replicator as it filled your cup. “Chem lab’s got a busted one. Spock sent me up here.”
“And here I was thinking that green-blooded hobgoblin was never gonna let your out of that lab again,” he mused.
“What did he say to you?”
“Oh, the usual. I can’t be interfering in research, exams are to be scheduled more professionally, I’m being overdramatic for insisting that you get your tests done so quickly on such short notice to you and him.”
“...Has he met Captain Kirk?” you frowned to the side as you picked your mug back up.
“Yeah,” McCoy chuckled, “that’s what I told him.” For as tired and frustrated as you were, you had to laugh and agree. For a man with such a curmudgeonly reputation, he certainly had a nice smile.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble,” you took a sip of your coffee. “Thanks for not making me want to stab everyone with a scalpel this morning.”
“Anything to avoid more work for me,” he waved you off. You wiped the tiny smile off your face when you walked out of the medbay only to find Spock waiting outside.
“Was Doctor McCoy bothered by your presence?”
“Oddly enough, no,” you said. “Don’t worry, Mr. Spock, I’m headed straight to work.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. Dr. McCoy also harvested this from one of the creatures still left on the ship; he believed it would be relevant to your research.”
You almost wanted to cry when you saw a new skin sample from the exact species you had lost your cell for.
Grinning something fierce, you thanked Mr. Spock and headed back down to your lab, trying to hide the little spring in your step from your Vulcan boss.
“Doctor McCoy!”
The doctor looked over as you waved at him, walking over as he ate lunch with a suddenly very amused Captain Kirk.
“Much more cheery now, I see.”
“All thanks to you,” you stopped and leaned casually on their table. “I’m so glad you found that other sample. I was literally going to have to start all over without it.”
It took the doctor a few moments and a playful nudge from Kirk to respond.
“Uh...my pleasure, Lieutenant,” he said, sounding a little confused. “It was the least I could do for pulling you away from your work so much.”
You weren’t phased by McCoy’s odd behavior-- you knew all too well what sleep deprivation did to people. What you noticed more was how amused Kirk seemed to be, pressing his lips together in a Cheshire grin as the two of you spoke.
“With all due respect, Captain, I don’t understand what you find so funny.”
“Oh, nothing, Lieutenant,” he kept his eyes trained across the room; you’d later learn he was flitting his baby blues between Spock in the distance and McCoy across from him. “I’m sure Dr. McCoy is happy to help whenever you need it.”
Now, Dr. McCoy is more observant than people give him credit for. Sure, every girl on the ship loved to talk about the good doctor’s “legendary hands,” but his work wasn’t all tactile. It was acute vision, as well. He noticed everything: the sparkle in your eyes at the favor he didn’t remember doing, the mischievous quirk of Jim’s lips as the captain watched the exchange.
And, oh, did he ever see the sneaky glances of Spock over to the table as he watched you fawn over the doctor.
That damn green-blooded hobgoblin was absolutely going to get it.
“Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!”
This is what you can hear through the vents above you as you work on your nucleotide analysis and Dr. McCoy apparently gives your boss a thorough talking-to.
You roll your eyes for a moment. You had no idea what the two had developed a disagreement over now. It can’t be any helpful to your research, so you decide to tune them out. A soft, logical, indiscriminate response would always follow a frustrated Southern boom. Whatever. Nucleotides were way more important than whatever hammer had dropped upstairs.
“I don’t need your help getting a date! I can flirt with Y/N myself, assuming she’ll actually say yes to a guy like me!”
He could flirt with who now?
You snapped your neck up at the very blunt statement. Suddenly, a lot of things started making sense. The frequent medbay visits. The skin sample.
You had little time to think about any of it, because sooner than you wanted, Dr. McCoy himself walked into your lab, looking a little humbled.
“Um...can I help you?”
“Spock said you needed a note-taker,” he said. “Figured I’d come lend a hand.”
“Oh, that’s date- GREAT.”
“Where did you get date from?”
“Just...listening around. Sciences blue gossip, you know.”
That was a lame excuse, and both of you knew it. You sighed and leaned back against your counter.
“I heard what you said to Spock upstairs.”
There had rarely been a time you could remember Dr. McCoy being floored when you had seen him. This was one of those times.
“You...what?” he asked, “I wasn’t that loud, was I?”
“My vent goes right up to the medbay,” you pointed at the fixture in question. “And...it’s not like your known for your docile nature.”
“Oh...” McCoy realized with a chastened look. “Oh.”
“Yeah...so...all those examinations?”
“It’s not like you could get to the medbay, otherwise,” he said. “I needed an excuse to talk to you. Guess Spock wasn’t happy with the way I was going about it.”
“And the replicator? The cell sample?”
“I think that green-blooded hobgoblin was trying to play matchmaker,” McCoy rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, Y/N, I’d understand if you’re upset...I’m a little more prickly than most folks...and I already got the idea that you were all in a twist because of how much I was asking for you.”
“I was upset because of my work, not because of you,” you quickly corrected.
“Still...you don’t have to do anything just because I’m a dumbass with a crush on a damn pretty little scientist.”
“And what if I’m a dumbass with a crush on a grumpy, handsome doctor?”
“You don’t have to,” he insisted. You approached him, softly taking his hand and offering a small smile, like one would give a baby deer.
“But I want to.”
The more readily you responded to his testing kiss, the more outgoing he became. His hands moved from yours to your waist to your spine, pulling you closer to his broad frame. You had to perch up on your toes to reach around his neck and pull him closer. Coffee and whiskey flavor passed to your lips; nothing so bitter had ever seemed as sweet.
“I congratulate you both for your union as a new couple pursuing a relationship,” the voice of Spock suddenly interrupted your from the doorway, “however, I would advise you not to partake in any intimate acts of pleasure in an active laboratory.”
“Damn hobgoblin,” Leonard muttered under his breath. “Can’t get pissy over what happens in the turbo lift.”
For what it was worth, at least the Vulcan made a decent matchmaker.