Episode: Shore Leave

Summary: Dr McCoy and Mr Spock aren't so good at working together, unless one particular Starship Captain is involved...

Halfway through their shore leave, which Starfleet command had agreed to lengthen slightly so as to accommodate for the initial difficulties they faced upon arrival, Jim Kirk was finally beginning to relax. Ruth and the girls from McCoy's Rigel II cabaret were gone, as it swiftly became apparent they were nothing but mindless copies of the women they had each known in real life. They sat in deckchairs recently conjured by the 'amusement park planet', basking in the sun and enjoying the opportunity to do very little else.

"You know, there's something that puzzles me."

"Oh yeah?" McCoy's eyelids were at half mast and his voice had fallen into a lazy, Georgian drawl. "What's that Jim?"

"How is it that you and Spock can't seem to get along for more than five minutes in my immediate vicinity, but as soon as my back is turned you're instantly in cahoots?"

"Cahoots?" Much like the aforementioned Vulcan, McCoy's eyebrow lifted. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then how exactly did Spock get permission to view my medical reports, if not from the Chief Medical Officer?"

"Well, I-"

"And the way he drew me into a trap, talking about me as though I were just another crewman. That isn't Spock's style." Jim turned his head so that his other cheek was being warmed by the sun. "In fact the way he spoke sounded almost like someone had taken your words and pumped them through his mouth."

McCoy let his eyelids slip all the way shut, smiling begrudgingly. "Alright, maybe... sometimes... your First Officer isn't... quite so impossible to get along. On occasion."

"Why Bones, you're getting practically sentimental in your old age," Jim teased.

"Just don't tell him I said anything!"