Oh, What One Must Endure

Title: Oh, What One Must Endure
Author: Ainzfern
Series: TOS
Code: S/Mc
Rating: PG
Parts: 1 (1/1)
Disclaimer: Paramount owns STAR TREK ... etc and so on and so forth!
My only pay here is personal joy
Summary: Summary: In response to Janet's challenge to "write a story
where Leonard comes home drunk", <EG> This little vignette is part of
the Bonded Souls series and is set within that lovely summer
covering "Gathering Together" and "Memories of Moonlight".
Archiving: Cool- if you want to- please let me know.
Feedback: Yes please! All comments are welcome
Author's Note: HUGE thanks as always to Janet for her BETA. I grovel
at thy feet <G>.

Oh, What One Must Endure

Spock set aside the data padd he was reading and sighed softly, not
entirely able to suppress the surge of irritation rising in him. He
had been waiting in their living room now for over three hours, long
past the hour of eleven P.M, which Leonard had originally promised
would be his time of return.

Leonard was late. Very late.

This was typical of his evenings out with Montgomery Scott. He felt a
brief surge of regret that he did not accept Leonard's invitation to
join them. His mate was always less inclined to become inebriated if
Spock was in attendance at these sessions of obscure Human male
bonding. However, tonight Spock had simply wished to stay at home and
spend some time in his own company.

He appreciated the silence. It was not that he did not adore his
Human mate, for indeed he did. It was just that sometimes, a Vulcan
needed his own space. Leonard understood. It was one of the reasons
he would agree to meet in town with Scotty whenever the engineer was
visiting at the nearby college. It was one of the reasons why Spock
was happy enough to let him go.

Oh, but the price for these brief moments of solitude...

He heard the ground car long before the lights of the vehicle bathed
the front windows of the house's lower level. There was a brief sound
of breaks as the car pulled up outside, the slam of a passenger side
door, then a brief flurry of gravel and a rapidly fading mechanical
growl as the ground car drove away.

"Ni-iiight! Thanks f'drivin' me home, Uhura! Byeeeee!"

Heavy treads up the front porch steps then...

<THUMP!> "Ooof! God *Dammit*! <BURP>"

Leonard was home.

Spock waited while the usual scrabbling sounds emanated from the
other side of the front door.

Soft mutterings, "Son of a bi... why d'they make these <HIC> damn
things so damn *small*? <BURP>".

Sighing, Spock rose to his feet and opened the door to the sight of
his beloved, key in hand, bent nearly double in an effort to focus on
the key lock. Blue eyes, somewhat bleary, looked up at him.

"The door was *unlocked*, Leonard," Spock advised him.

Leonard grinned. "Hiya bew-ful. <HIC>"

Spock vented another soft sigh and reached out to steady his wavering
mate. "Please come inside, Leonard. I have made coffee for you."

Leonard leaned against him in a haze of warm love and whisky
fumes. "Aw, thans, bew-ful. Y'know you're <HIC... BURP> you're too

Spock dragged him, bent over his arm like a wet sack, into the living
area and allowed him to slither down on to the sofa.

To the sound of insane giggling, Spock moved into the kitchen and
poured Leonard a mug of black coffee. He spent only the briefest
moment in contemplation before deciding to take the whole pot back
out with him.

"Here," He set the mug on the low coffee table, within easy reach of
the pickled Human. "Please drink this."

"K, sweethar... just lemme get m'shoes off. <GRUNT...OOF>"

Spock watched him struggle for a moment before brushing his hands out
of the way, undoing the laces and sliding the shoes off his mate's

Leonard blinked. "Well, Huh! I thought I wuz wearin' slip-ons."

"Drink your coffee, Leonard," Spock said firmly.

Leonard paused in the act of reaching for his mug. "You mad at me,
bew-ful?" His blue eyes were soulfully sad.

"No, Leonard," Spock replied. "Why would I have any cause to be
discontented with you?"


"Simply because you are three hours late, and inebriated to near

Leonard looked up at him, his impish face repentant, big blue eyes
beseeching forgiveness. He looked in fact, so adorable at that
moment, that Spock had to actively remind himself that he *was* in
fact vexed with his mate. That was one of the major problems with
these incidents. A drunken Leonard McCoy was an undeniably appealing

"M'sorry Spock." Leonard reached for his mug again, missed it, shut
one eye and successfully completed the maneuver.

"You will be come the morning Leonard, trust me," Spock said softly.

Leonard looked happily up at him from his coffee contemplation. "Wha?"


"Oh, <BURP>, OK." He spent some time draining his mug while Spock
settled into an armchair and patiently waited, bracing himself for
what would come next. He knew it would only be a matter of time...

Blue eyes caught his, an unmistakable gleam shining within them.

Bingo. Round two.

"Y'know what, bew-ful?" Leonard leered at him, setting down his mug
and slipping off the sofa to crawl across the floor to him. "You are
one *sexy* Vulcan."

"I am pleased that you think so, Leonard," Spock replied in a long-
suffering tone.

Oblivious, Leonard made his way up the Vulcan's lower legs, coming to
rest with his chest braced against Spock's knees. "Oh yeah, Ah'sure
do. Y'know what I thought about *all* night, tonight?"

"I can not imagine."

"Your ass."


"Yeah," Leonard grinned lopsidedly and held his hands up, flexing
them a few times. "It's so damn gripa...<HIC>...ipable."

A sable brow shot ceiling wards. "Gripabibble?"

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Grip-a-ble," He said with exaggerated
care. "*Gripable*! Your ass is gripable, Spock. Anyone ever tell you
that your ass is <BURP> gripable?"

"Yes, Leonard. You did. The last time you came home inebriated."

Ignoring that, Leonard plunged on, now caught up with a highly
alcoholic and from experience, ultimately unproductive wave of sudden
arousal. "Do me, Spock. Take me upstairs an'... an'... g'me nekked
an' make me scream till m'eyes bug out!"

Spock sighed. "Normally, Leonard, I would be moved beyond words by
such an eloquent appeal, however, in this case I fear..."

"You don'love me?" Leonard's eyes misted. To Spock's outward
disapproval, but inward amusement, he actually pouted. "You don'
<HIC> love me d'ya?"

"Of course I do, beloved," Spock said patiently. "It is merely my
previous experience that the moment your head touches the pillow, you
invariably pass out."

"Not t'nigh' bew-ful." Leonard shook his head. "T'nigh' I'm hot and
ready to roll."

Spock heaved another sigh. Honestly, the things he had to endure...

"Very well." He picked Leonard up and carried him easily up the
stairs, entering their softly lit bedroom and depositing him on the

Five point seven seconds later, the soft sounds of drunken snoring
echoed through the room.

Nodding, Spock moved into the bathroom and prepped a hypo spray for
his mate, setting it back out by the bed for the inevitable moment
come tomorrow morning where an effective and immediate hangover cure
would be required.

Then, with some marginal adjustment to his boneless bondmate, he
slipped under the covers and closed his eyes.



"Nyota?" Scotty tapped on the door again. "Nyota love? M'sorry pet!
Can I come back in? Please love?"

Silence. The kind that can only be generated by a really ticked off
female who had been dragged from her bed at one thirty A.M to drive a
drunken doctor home.

"Love?" He tapped again, ever hopeful. "I cannae sleep in the
*hallway*, Nyota, be reasonable! Love? Pet?..."