Yesterdays and Tomorrows 1/2

[1lostone]

Title: Yesterdays and Tomorrows
Paring: Spock/Bones- Reboot
Rating: NC17
Words: 7324
Warnings: blatant misuse of italics
Summary: Based (somewhat) on the TOS episode, Bones and Spock are thrown back in time.
A/N 1Yet another belated Christmas present for my partner in crime, yesterday_girl . I mean, come on. She loves the episode enough to name herself after it.  I thought I’d celebrate the sweetness of the Holiday season by throwing porn at her.
A/N 2: I do not, of course, make any money from this perversion adaption of the Star Trek: TOS episode All Our Yesterdays. Some of the dialogue is directly from the episode.  You can watch the entire episode here (In the US anyway.) Or- much of the dialogue is stolen from these scenes (about 7:45). Thanks to jlm121  and jademac2442  for looking at this for me!
A/N 3: Does anyone really read these author’s notes?

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“I am here, evidently, because I stepped through at the same instant as Doctor McCoy.”

Leonard sighs, Spock’s words heavy in his head. In his heart. Sure, they’d been through some incredibly weird shit since Jim had been given the Enterprise, but being stranded on Planet Whatthefuck during the Whatthefuckian Ice Age was really, really not how he’d planned on having his day playing out. And sure, if the Vulcan were one to assign blame, it would be easy to assign that blame to him. Leonard had been the one to look at the disc. Why he couldn't have gone with the one with the white, sandy beaches and half-naked serving girls he didn’t know.

Just his fucking luck, really.

“Come on, Spock. We have’ta get out of this c-cold.” Shit. The temperature was so cold that Leonard can feel the wetness in his mouth and nose start to freeze.

 Leonard pretends not to notice the way Spock walks closer to him, both bending slightly to attempt to hide from the merciless wind.

“In this severe cold, we cannot survive much longer.” Spock pitches his voice carefully, no doubt calculating just how loud it would have to be for Leonard to hear it over the chattering of his teeth.

This is fucking stupid. There is no way that this can end well. Leonard can feel his thoughts becoming lethargic, as though they have their own weight. “Leave me here, Spock.” He’s aware of his plea. Aware of how Spock will reply, almost before he the words come.

“We go together or not at all.” Spock’s voice makes him smirk a little to himself.
Stubborn goddamn Vulcan. Loyal bastard. Leonard knows that biologically, Spock was no better equipped to handle the extreme temperature than he was.

“Don't be a fool. My hands and face are frostbitten. I can't feel my feet. Alone you have a chance. Now do what I say. Go try to find Jim.” Maybe invoking the Jim card will give the damn hobgoblin a kick in the ass to get his priorities straight. God knew the Vulcan took his care of Jim seriously.

“We go together.”

“You stubborn… thickheaded …Vulcan!” Leonard spares a second to think of Jim. He pictures his smile, the slap on the back a phantom touch against his shoulder. Blue eyes grinning at his crankiness, concerned when he was shitfaced, morosely belting back another shot of bourbon.   Spock’s hand is on the crock of his arm now, but it’s no use.

He just needs to rest. Just for a minute. Leonard is conscious of Spock’s body, hot and blissfully warm before he collapses.

***

He comes to under furs. The smell is weird, musky with the scent of animals. Faintly he can detect something else, but his brain is too sluggish to think clearly. He feels a weight next to him and instinctively cuddles closer to that incredible heat.
There’s a murmur of voices. Leonard cracks open his eyelids to see bright blue eyes staring down at him. The look is curious, mildly concerned.

“Jim?”

The weight to his right stiffens for a second. Leonard turns his head to see Spock sitting there next to him. The image is so bizarre that for a moment he just blinks, stupidly.

“McCoy. Doctor McCoy, wake up.”

Leonard is floored to see Spock’s mouth tighten with … something. He hears the bedding shift again and his eyes almost fall out of his head when he sees the beautiful woman slide off the bed, her bulky coat flashing one long, supple leg.  “Who are you?” He has to be dreaming. Her eyes are wide, blue and childlike as they regard him curiously. Now that he was slightly more awake, Leonard could see that her eyes were nothing like Jim’s.

“My name is Zarabeth.” She smiled slightly.

“Zarabeth. Spock, are we in the library?” He knows the what the fuck in his voice is coming through loud and clear. He wants to sit up, but his body is still too sluggish. Leonard knows this is because of his hypothermia and starts to catalogue the rest of his aches and pains. His eyes widen as he feels the touch of Spock’s hand on one cheek.

Leonard has made somewhat of a study of Vulcans and why they make a point of avoiding bare-skinned touch. The fact that Spock is touching him willingly short-circuits his brain. Leonard imagines that he can see the electrical synopses in his head shut off one by one.

“No, Doctor, we are still in the Ice Age, but safe for the moment.”

The timbre of Spock’s voice is strangely comforting. Leonard struggles again, trying to get stubborn limbs to obey a simple command from his brain to get the fuck up, Goddamnit. “Jim. What about Jim?” It’s like Leonard’s mouth is stuck on a holovid that won’t advance to the next scene.

“Doctor, you are in no condition to get up. You lie down and rest. I shall attempt to find the captain.”  There was the touch of Spock’s fingers against his face and for a second he’s overwhelmed with the feeling of worry/concern/jealousy that punches him. Leonard grunts, surprised. The emotions shut off as though a valve had been turned, and Leonard trembles under the feeling of comfort/relief/sleepiness that replaces the darker emotions. It’s too much. Confusion is almost a tangible thing.

“You find him, Spock. Don't you worry about me. You just find him.” His eyelids flutter and Leonard is on the cusp of sleep when he hears them speaking again.

“ Spock, who is this Jim?”

“He's our commanding officer and our friend. He and the Doctor are quite close.”

“I saw only the two of you. I did not know there was another. Perhaps you should share body heat with your friend. Reassure yourself that he is well. I will go and look for this Jim.”

Leonard must be dreaming now. There’s no other explanation for what his senses are telling him- that Spock is stretched out besides him under the furs, that he really is just that perfectly warm. That he feels just that perfect with their legs tangled together.

***

Leonard dreams are full of impossibilities.

One of his darkest, most hidden fantasies is coming true. Spock’s heat is against him, the Vulcan’s hot lips trailing over his jaw, his throat. The scrape of teeth against Leonard’s collarbone sends his body arching up, instinctively searching for more heat. Long fingers press against his cock, trapped as it is in his pants. Leonard shudders, moaning. The air is thick and heavy with the smell of arousal, of sweat and animal musk. For one second he is certain that his eyes are open, that it really is Spock over him, rutting against him, his tongue tangled with his. He can feel his feet, his legs and fingers all singing with blood, tingling, as he raises his hands to  dreamSpock’s hips. Leonard can feel the fabric of Spock’s regulation uniform pants against his hands, and knows- just knows- that this has to be a dream because no way would Spock ever want his touch this desperate against his ass. Spock would never allow Leonard’s body to arch up against Spock and oh... oh God....

***

When Leonard awakens again he’s mortified to find that he’s come in his pants, like the kid he always accuses Jim of being.  There is a faint wet spot and Christ it itches like a motherfucker. Leonard winces as he stands, pulling at the mess of his pants with a rueful shake of his head.

“Perfect,” he whispers. Leonard looks around the sleeping chamber, noticing that there are small rocks and other baubles placed around. There are furs strewn everywhere. He is aware of the heavy feeling of pity for this woman who is stranded here. She has obviously taken pains to make this hellhole of a cave into a home.

Leonard’s gaze is caught by a large piece of marble, polished so that its reflective surface gleams in the low firelight.

Leonard freezes when he catches sight of himself. His face is flushed. His usually perfectly combed hair looks like it is about to crawl off of his head in protest.  His eyes look sleepy. He looks like he’s just been fucked stupid and woken up out of a sex coma, although admittedly it’s been way to fucking long since he remembered what that felt like.  Leonard squints, leaning closer to the polished rock. He watches as his eyes almost bug out of his head, sees his own mouth as it drops open in shock.

There is an almost perfectly formed bite mark peeking out of the black undershirt of his uniform.

He actually stumbles, mind tripping over itself as he tries to remember what exactly had happened. Oh God oh God what did I do wait is is possible to bite yourself in your sleep? He touches the small mark, tongue tracing his bottom lip at the way his skin jumps at the small pain.

Funny. Spock always accused him of being illogical. Leonard would never, in a million years of thinking, have ever agreed with him.

Bite yourself? Good God, man. You’re a doctor, not a lovestruck teenager. Get ahold of your Goddamn self.

Leonard blinks. He takes a deep breath and cocks his head, listening to the murmur of voices from another part of the cave. Leonard forces his feelings down and away. They had to get off this giant ice cube before anything else completely fucked up happened. And Jim! God, where the hell was Jim? What if he was hurt?  Leonard walks out to the other area and stares, uncomfortably aware at how cozy Spock looks with the beautiful... what was her name? Zarabeth?  Something dark squirms in his stomach at the sight.

“Spock? Where are we?”  Is that his voice? Leonard is disgusted with the trembling quality and clears his throat.  

“You are safe here, McCoy.” Zarabeth stood and walked over to where Leonard  slumped against the cave wall.

“Yes, I remember you.” He does. Leonard isn’t quite sure what to do with the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach- the feeling that somehow he’s interrupted something. For a second, Zarabeth looked like she would be just as happy to hit Leonard over the head as talk to him. He doesn’t quite remember her rack being quite that on display, but he’d been asleep. He gives her an appreciative look. Her fur bikini leaves very little to the imagination.

Well, among other things.

“Come, Doctor, back to bed.”

Leonard actually jumps, his face flushing at Spock’s word choice. Bed? Spock wanted him to go back to... wait. Wait! “Why are you still here, Spock? Why aren't you looking for Jim?”

Spock moves closer and brushes the very corner of Leonard’s wrist with his arm.  Spock seemed overwhelming all of the sudden, and Leonard has a sense memory of what Spock tastes like. For a moment, Leonard is sure that he is going to swoon like some Goddamn princess.

He’s aware of conversation seeming to move around him as though he’s not really a part of it. The realization that Jim is not here with them, that they are trapped here on this planet makes him feel nauseous.  He hears Spock and Zarabeth discussing the fact that there is no way to return.

No way to return. Leonard can see faces: Joanna and Jim, Nyota, Sulu and Scotty, the Whiz Kid and Chapel.  He’d never see them, any of them again.

Leonard feels dizzy with awareness and arousal and tries to shift his body back away from Spock. Spock, the bastard, just moves closer. He reaches out and caresses the bite mark with two fingers, causing Leonard’s whole body to quake in reaction. His knees weaken and he has to grip Spock’s forearm, afraid he’ll collapse. Spock acknowledging the mark sends home the truth that he had not been dreaming.

“Doctor, are you well?”

His throat is a desert. Leonard’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, completely at a loss for words. He’s uncomfortably aware that Spock is doing everything but pissing on him.

Zarabeth’s voice provides a welcome distraction. “If you wish, there are several hot springs further back in the cave. I will be happy to assist you with your bath, Doctor.”

Spock growls.

From the corner of his eye, Leonard sees Zarabeth’s blue eyes widen. “Of course. I should go find sustenance for the three of us.” She took a step back and for a second, Leonard is petrified of being left alone with Spock. His throat tightens again.

“Thirsty...”

Spock stiffens and turns, going to a clay pitcher and bringing a clay bowl to Leonard’s lips. He drinks, squeezing his eyes shut. The water tastes vaguely of sulphur and other minerals that Leonard can’t quite name, but it revitalizes him. Dimly he realizes that he’s just had several shocks, one after the other.

“Come with me, Doctor.”

Spock is overwhelming him again. Leonard feels his strong grip on his shoulder and when he stumbles, feels the vertigo as he’s swung into Spock’s strong arms. Leonard has the visual of his grumpy ass in a white bridal gown and has to smother a hysterical bout of laughter.

“Now wait just a fucking minute, here you damn green-blooded bastard! I don’t know where you get off flinging me around like a Goddamn sack of potatoes, but I don’t...”

“Doctor. Kindly cease your speaking.”

Leonard’s eyes widen, and he’s aware that his mouth drops open.  “No I damn well won’t ‘cease my speaking’!” He is faintly aware that his voice is turning what his Gran would call ‘a might shrill’ and can’t seem to control it. “You don’t get to dictate what I do! Now let me down or I’ll..”

“You will, what, Doctor McCoy? It is only logical that I assist you. Your body temperature reached a level that was not optimal in humans. You then displayed several instances of confusion and lethargic thinking that allowed me to conclude that you have obviously not fully recovered from our trek here to Zarabeth’s cave.”

Leonard couldn’t help his struggles. Spock’s words might have been true, but they absolutely infuriated him. He was the one that got to say who was sick, Goddamnit. Not that pointy-eared...

Leonard’s trail of thought shudders to a halt when Spock simply shifts his grip, throwing him up and over Spock’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He hasn’t blushed this badly since he was fourteen and trying to feel up Betty Parkinson in the back of his daddy’s hovercar, but when Spock turns his head, buries his face into Leonard’s hip and inhales, rubbing his nose into the material of Leonard’s pants as if Spock was trying to memorize him, he feels like his face is on fire.  The gesture is so completely out of the realm of Spock, that Leonard is startled into the clearest thinking he’s had since he woke up.

They had to have gone back in time. Five-thousand years back in time. Leonard’s ancestors haven’t even managed to find fire yet, let alone figure out what to do with it. But on Vulcan... fuck. Leonard has the startling thought that in this time Vulcan was still there. Vulcans weren’t always the logical creatures they were now. No. He’d looked it up when Jim had inherited the prissy little bastard as a First. Vulcans had been barbarians; full of passion and emotions. Possessive.

Like Spock was acting now.

Leonard feels Spock swing him down again. Truth be told, he’s rather glad for this, as Spock’s bony shoulder was jabbing him in the gut with every step he took. Spock set Leonard onto his feet, his body still flush against Spock’s own. Spock didn’t hold him there, but his hands did hover for a moment before going to his sides.

Leonard is tries not to let his nerves show when he sees that Spock is clenching his fists, repeatedly, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip.

“Zarabeth spoke of several springs of varying temperature. You will wait here while I find one that is of acceptable temperature for your body.”

Leonard, whose mind still reeled with another shock, nodded, looking around the area with which he now found himself.

It was a natural spring. Steam hung in the air. The scent of sulphur was much stronger here, but a natural vent in the rock sent the fresh air swirling the worst of the stench away. Leonard looked up and saw that there was a very small fissure in the rock, several meters above his head. Stalagmites and other rock formations jutted around and in the water.

There was some sort of fungus on the walls that gave off a faint phosphoresce. Its muted glow was gathered into collected areas at measured intervals. There was a fireplace on a large, flat rock that separated  four of the pools of water. Leonard walked over to it, lighting the wood on autopilot. It was quite dry and its light caused much of the minerals in the rocks to shimmer.

“Doctor. I have ascertained that this pool will be of use to wash your attire, should you wish it. It is of a sufficient temperature to kill any bacteria that is on your clothing. It does not seem that Zarabeth has much in the way of soap.” Spock sounds faintly sorry, as though it was his fault that he had not provided for Leonard’s needs.

“The larger of the pools is slightly above Human norms, but should adequately revitalize you.”

“Thanks, Spock.” Could it be that Spock has no idea what is happening to him? Leonard works at his bottom lip for a moment, inwardly cringing when he sees Spock’s gaze go directly to his mouth.  Shit. Shit, shit shit. On one hand, Spock needed to realize what was happening so that he could build his defenses against it. That meditation thing that Spock was always doing should help him retain some of his logic. On the other hand, Leonard would be pissing off a Vulcan.

He was a doctor, damnit. Not a strategist. This could be a very, very bad idea.


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