@groovyfluxie requested: romantic/fluffy TOS Spock x Genderqueer!Reader (she/they pronouns) x TOS Dr. McCoy polyamorous relationship while on the Enterprise
I’m so sorry this took so long!!! I hope you enjoy it.
Set in TOS “Arena” (1x19)
“What do you mean we can’t beam them up?” Leonard’s voice was rough and anxious in the background of the comm line. “It’s alright, Len.” “How is this–“ “We’ll look after each other,” you assured him, voice soothing even as you crouched behind a pile of rubble. “We’re together. You just better be there when we beam back up.” “I’m not going anywhere,” he rumbled, and you smiled, though you knew he couldn’t see it. “Love you, Len.” “If you two are quite done,” Jim teased, snatching his comm back, “Sulu, notify us when it is possible to beam back up.”
“Lang!” You leapt for cover as their fire rained around you, side stinging with a shot, but your companion wasn’t so lucky. “(L/N), what’s going on?” Your communicator buzzed to life. “Lang’s down, Captain.” You hissed as your hand traced over the burn of something that wasn’t quite a phaser. “Are you hit, Lieutenant?” Spock’s voice, now, low and level, but concerned. “Nothing serious,” you assured him, though it was rather unconvincing when followed immediately by a sharp scream. One of the large, lizard-like creatures loomed over you, phaser in hand. “Lieutenant?” You rolled to the side as it aimed for you, taking its legs out with you. It crashed to the ground, strong and fierce but not agile. Its weapon skidded from its hand and you bolted, snatching up the fallen weapon and plunging behind a further pile as the fire started up again. Someone yelled an order and the barrage stopped for a moment. You peaked out just in time to see your attacker return back to the high ground and you took off, weapons whirring back to life as you skidded out of range.
“It’s fine, Len. We’re together, Len. Stop worrying, Len,” Leonard muttered the mimicry under his breath as Chapel finished taking samples from your seared flesh and bandaged you up. You rolled your eyes, used to the frustration with which he expressed concern. It wasn’t ideal but you’d known him for long enough not to take it personally. “I’m fine, aren’t I?” “Define “fine”,” he retorted, pulling the curtain shut behind Chapel. “You were shot – twice – with an unknown weapon.” “And you’ve fixed me.” You made grabby hands at him and he sighed, but moved into range. You immediately pulled him to you, hands going up to cup his face. He wouldn’t look at you. “Come on, darling. Look at me.” His eyes finally flicked to yours, swirling with fear and relief and love. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” He glared down at you for a moment longer, but you could feel him melting, before he finally brought his lips down to meet yours. “Just don’t do it again.” The words were mumbled against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours. “It is highly unlikely they would intend for this to happen.” You smiled up at Spock as Leonard grumbled. “Are you well, th’y’la?” “They’ve been shot, of course they’re not–“ “Len fixed me right up, ashayam,” you assured him, cutting Leonard off, thumb brushing over the graze on Spock’s cheek. “You’re hurt too!” Instantly, Spock was shoved onto the bed beside you. “Stay there. I’ll get the regen.” He huffed out, curtains swishing around him, and you just leaned into Spock, both of you knowing better than to argue. “I believe we ought to be more careful, ashayam,” Spock mused, as Leonard buzzed about with the regenerator. “If only to preserve the good doctor’s mental fitness.” “Why you green-blooded bastard–“
“What are you going to do, Mr Spock?” Bones demanded, coming up to the Captain’s chair. You sighed, preparing for yet another argument. “I'm going to wait, Doctor. There's little else I can do.” That was not the answer Bones wanted and both you and Spock knew it. “What about the Captain?” He ignored you murmuring his name. “If I could help him, I would.” Spock’s voice was heavy in a way that only those who knew him truly would recognise. Unfortunately for him, the Bridge crew was loaded with those who knew him. “I cannot.” “Now, you're the one that's always talking about logic!” “Bones,” you warned, sliding to your feet. “What about some logic now? Where's the Captain, Mister Spock?” There was no true vitriol in Bones’ voice. Just worry, fear. “He's out there, Doctor. Out there somewhere in a thousand cubic parsecs of space, and there's absolutely nothing we can do to help him.” Silence fell heavily and you wanted nothing more than to gather Spock into your arms, let him know that you were there. But that wasn’t Spock. So you laid a firm hand on his shoulder, feeling Bones lean into your side, weary and scared and hopeful, but still holding you up more than you were him. You locked one hand in the doctor’s hair, letting your fingers trail patterns along his scalp. Spock glanced up at you, eyes warm in his impassive face, then looked back to the screen.
“This is the U.S.S. Enterprise calling the Metrons. Our channels are open. Come in, please. We urgently desire a conference. Please answer.” “The ship, our engines, our weapons. It's just inconceivable that we are immobilised,” Bones was trying to be hopeful, frustration brimming through his voice. “But it has happened, Doctor.” The room dimmed, screen swirling to life in a blaze of colour. “We are the Metrons. Your Captain is losing his battle.” Your heart dropped in your chest. “We would suggest you make whatever memorial arrangements, if any, which are customary in your culture. We believe you have very little time left.” “We appeal to you in the name of civilisation. Put a stop to this!” Bones demanded, and this time neither of you noticed the tired look Spock offered him. “Your violent intent and actions demonstrate that you are not civilised. However, we are not without compassion. It is possible you may have feelings toward your Captain.” Bones spluttered, and you squeezed his hand tightly. “So that you will be able to prepare yourself, we will allow you to see and hear what is now transpiring.” “Not without compassion?” You snarled, and the image that was appearing paused, flickering back into the whirlwind of colour that had spoken. “You speak of compassion and civilisation but if this is your sick idea of entertainment what does that say about you?” You heard Spock’s warning tone, but you were going to finish this if it killed you. “Both of those beings down there are people. They have crews to care for. Friends. Family. And you’re forcing them to kill one another? Just so that you can kill the losing crew?” The light snapped an angry red. “If you’re powerful enough to immobilise our ship, to send them to a world where they can create weapons, then you are powerful enough to prevent negotiations from becoming violent. So put an end to this and let us negotiate.” “You cannot negotiate! You are violent and uncivilised!” “No! We are hurting!” Silence echoed. The screen flashed into blackness, then an image of Jim and the Gorn appeared. Jim stuck his finger into the powdery substance encrusting the rock and brought it to his lips, screwing his face up and immediately spitting it out. But there was realisation in his eyes. “If only there was some way we could contact him,” Bones lamented, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you to him. He pressed a kiss to your head, kind enough not to acknowledge the tears gathering in your eyes. “Yes, indeed, Doctor, if only there were,” Spock agreed, for the first time. “Notice the substance encrusting that rock. Yes. Unless I'm mistaken, it's potassium nitrate.” “So?” “Perhaps nothing, Doctor.” He paused, eyes fixed to the screen. “Perhaps everything.” “Gunpowder.” You rolled your eyes at Spock’s riddled musing, fondly exasperated. His lips twitched into a slight smirk, almost invisible except that you knew what to look for. Bones huffed beside you and you grinned up at him, despite yourself.
“I take it back. I don’t want to negotiate anymore,” you whined, as Spock carefully fixed the collar of your uniform. A half-smile. “You were adamant earlier, Ambassador.” The door to your chambers slid open. “Human error, Commander.” You smirked up at him. “You wouldn’t know such a thing.” “Stop flirting,” Bones scolded, leaning against the doorframe. “Jealous, Len?” you teased, letting him sweep you into his arms. He rolled his eyes, planting a gentle kiss to your lips anyway. “It is highly illogical to be jealous of one’s own partners, Leonard.” Spock watched you, eyebrow raised and hands tucked behind his back. “Green’s your colour anyway,” Bones muttered, tugging you with him to pull Spock into a kiss. “You’re going to mess up my hair,” you warned, as Spock’s deft fingers traced up your cheek, tangling around the back of your neck. The door slid open again and you jumped, guiltily, only to be met by Jim’s laughter. “Come on, lovebirds. I need to borrow the Ambassador.” Your cheeks must have been as hot as Spock’s were flushed green as Jim laughed. Bones, unruffled by the intrusion, just rolled his eyes, scoffing about washing his eyes out after walking in on Jim that many goddamn times– You smoothed your uniform down and linked your arm with Jim’s. Behind you, Spock fixed Bones’ collar before they followed you to the transporter bay.