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As a physician, Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy was no stranger to offish and shy questions, especially when concerning sexual health of any kind. It came with the territory; even if he’d published a dozen enlightening, pragmatic medical papers for the institution, eventually he’d be brought back to sweet, sweet earth with a nervous ensign enquiring after condoms. Or a discreet hypospray. Or even more likely, queries of a sexual nature.
Nowadays, it really didn't have the power to phase him. The generalised ‘birds and the bees’ talk was one he’d given so often he had it memorised, and he liked to consider himself a good influence on the crewmembers with more sexual diversity.
For the majority of the five year mission it posed barely any trouble at all. It was only during the fourth year that the topic became relevant. And when it did, Bones decided to take matters into his own hands.
__________
Since the first day of the mission, he and the Vulcan had had what Jim would describe as a ‘frenemy situation’, though Bones found the terminology much too childish for his liking. He and Spock got it on alright - the bickering was part of their relationship. If someone put them in the category of ‘friendship’ he wouldn’t fight it, nor would he if they were known as ‘rivals’. But ever the consummate professional, when it came to medical and private matters, Bones was completely devoted to his patient’s safety and confidentiality. That meant, when Spock came to his office late one night with a pinched, shifty look on his face and no snippy comment to accompany it, he immediately dropped the attitude and asked what the matter was.
Spock, to his credit, noted the change with little more than a blink and lowered himself into one of Bones’ desk chairs, straight-backed and tight with his feet planted firmly on the floor. Even for him it was particularly nervy, and it made Bones remark, “Well, I can see that something’s off here. What’s up?”
For over a minute - yes, a whole minute - Spock seemed to contemplate, which in and of itself was somewhat concerning. For someone so quick to speak, he was taking his damn time. Bones busied himself with dimming the lights and crossing his ankles in a conscious attempt to put Spock at ease. For all his subtle bodily enhancements he still found prolonged exposure to strobing lights uncomfortable and Bones wasn’t about to be petty and keep his blinking monitors on if they weren’t really essential.
“I’m guessing this ain’t a strictly professional visit,” he chanced, verbally nudging Spock. When that still didn’t elicit a response, he continued, “C’mon, you can drop the frown, anything you’ve got to say is confidential with me, unless it’s directly detrimental to your performance. Which, by your expression, I assume it isn’t.”
“You would be correct in your assumption,” Spock said finally. He’d placed an elbow on Bones’ desk, though his spine was still stiff as a poker. Absent-mindedly, Bones made a mental note to ask about potential back pain in the future. Sitting that straight for as long as Spock did everyday couldn’t be good for him. “I admit my presence is not entirely typical, and I assure you if I had been able to sufficiently research my queries in the ship’s library computer I would have, but…”
Bones rubbed a thumb up his jaw and nodded, thoughts whirling as he wondered what medical matter the ship’s computer hadn’t been able to dredge up information about.
“If it’s about Vulcan medicine,” he said after a second, “I’m afraid you know how little I’ve studied it. We’ve got notes from the VSA on your medical files - god bless - but beyond that I’m just as clueless as the next man.”
“It is not,” replied Spock firmly. His eyes flickered amber in the dimmed light, reminding Bones of a trapped and cornered animal. Rarely one to let emotions dictate his words though, he went on. “At your discretion, I would like to inquire on matters pertaining to a sexual nature. More specifically, a lack thereof. Since you are the ship’s practising physician, I sought you out.”
Overcome with the sudden urge to laugh, he tamped it down and nodded, quickly processing what scraps of information Spock had given him. Well, it certainly hadn’t been on his bingo card, but he’d do his best to accommodate.
“Ah.” Nodding, he reached below his desk and brought up two glasses and two opaque bottles about the size of his forearm. “Alright, what do you want to know, Spock? Oh, and-” he poured a small amount of liquid from the first bottle into a glass and slid it over the desk “-here, take this. Not alcoholic, don’t worry,” he scoffed, “it’s just a ginger tonic. Good for settling the nerves.”
Looking as though he’d rather be literally anywhere else right now, Spock tipped the small tumbler between his forefinger and thumb, eventually raising it to his lips and taking one careful sip. “Thank you, doctor.”
Bones waved the thanks off and poured himself a slightly stronger and more alcoholic brew of what he’d given Spock, sighing emphatically at its burning, fizzy taste. “Yeah, that’s the stuff. Okay, let’s do this. Again - what do you want to know?”
As though Bones was a puzzle Spock just couldn’t solve, he was scrutinised with careful attention. Finally he raised one eyebrow. “You are not perturbed by topics of such a discreet kind? From me?” There was something in his tone that suggested he’d been expecting a more disgusted response, or worse yet one of downright refusal. That was highly illogical, but Bones supposed embarrassment did strange things to a fellow.
“I’m a doctor,” he said simply, fixing his gaze on Spock. “You learn not to be ‘perturbed’ pretty quick in this line of work. I don’t find other people’s bodies something to be worth getting worked up over - my job is to help them stay healthy, and I’ll do that however necessary.”
“I see.” But it didn’t seem as though that line of questioning was exhausted yet.
Bones dipped his head. “Spit it out, if you’ve got something to say. Complete confidentiality, I promise.”
“I am not–” Spock paused, thought his words over more carefully, then began again. “Without argument, I simply state: I am not those whom you’ve previously treated.”
“Are you a person?”
“Evidently, doctor.” The statement was dripping in sarcasm.
“Then you’re deserving of my respect and professional integrity. No ifs, no buts. I assure you, I’ve seen and done weirder things than this. Ever given an anal examination to a giggling klingon? That’ll put a man’s priorities in perspective, it will.”
He took a hearty sip of drink and watched Spock squirm around in his chair. “So, tell me. What can I help you with?” Mentally, he prayed he wasn’t going to have to give Spock his own anal exam. That’d be just his luck. “C’mon, Spock, a conversation ain’t gonna happen if you sit there tight-lipped the whole time.” A thought struck him suddenly. “Say, this isn’t about Jim, is it?”
Spock’s demeanour changed infinitesimally, and he swallowed hard. “Not directly.”
“Oh?”
It was common knowledge among his staff and the bridge crew that Jim was sweet for Spock, and though they’d never discussed it, Bones was sure enough about Spock’s own affections toward their friend. Whether anything would ever happen, he didn’t know. They were a pair of idiots, but a cute pair nevertheless.
“His… tendencies,” Spock said tentatively. “They are… normal for a human male his age?”
Bones squinted. “His–” he furrowed his eyebrows and tried to parse the Vulcan’s train of thought. “Spock, are we talking about Jim’s love life, here?”
“More specifically, his sexual health.”
He was suddenly very grateful for the alcoholic drink in his hand.
Looking around to make sure the door was shut, Bones nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna need to know what this is for. I’m not legally allowed to freely discuss some medical details about Jim’s sexual health. Especially if I don’t know why. Are you two considering intercourse with each other?” he said bluntly, getting to the point.
Spock turned red. “No, doctor.”
“But the two are connected. Is that right?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then what’s happening?”
Releasing a tiny, huffy breath, Spock said, “I do not understand some of Jim’s - and the other human crew members - tendencies, especially those of sexual nature. They are complex - illogical. Different, on a base level, from that which I was raised knowing. On Vulcan, such urges are nonexistent. The drive to procreate stems from purely anatomical needs. I wish to learn why this is so. Any why I am different.”
Bones held up a hand. “Hold it. Alright, let’s tackle one thing at a time. First, thank you for being straight with me. Makes this a hell of a lot easier. Now, sorting this out. You obviously know the biological differences and similarities; we’ve both got the same reproductive organs more or less, and the same goes for hormones. Does emotional repression work the same with sexual pleasure?” he asked curiously.
Spock shook his head. “To a full Vulcan, no. As opposed to humans, the process is different. Vulcans are able to experience sexual pleasure, but sexual attraction is filed under ‘emotion’, and therefore successfully suppressed. Even still, pleasure is considered careless. Hasty. Undesirable. The loss of control is jarring to those who have not previously felt it.”
“Damn.”
“Damn, indeed,” said Spock with what might have been woe. It was hidden well, however, amidst a healthy dose of sarcasm.
“But you? You speak as if you’re different.” If Spock were fully Vulcan he doubted they would be having this conversation right now, but there was that pesky human half of his to deal with, and he had his suspicions about what could be going on. Vaguely, he wondered whether he had any informational pamphlets about sexual diversity in his desk drawer. “Stuck in the middle, perhaps.”
There was a brief pause. “Something along that line,” Spock confirmed. “For most of my adult life, I have not diverted from the Vulcan tradition. But now, I find myself conflicted. Wrong, for feeling something I previously thought myself incapable of.”
“You’ve never fit in with the allosexual stereotype,” parsed Bones, locking his fingers together in a contemplative pose anyone who knew him would say was his trademark. “It seems like you’re describing Vulcans as asexual, which makes sense. Someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction or experiences it differently. Read a good study on it a few years back - anyway, you’re saying your body isn’t reacting in the same way it always has? Because you’ve…”
“I do not feel sexual attraction to any random man or woman,” said Spock bluntly, “nor do I wish to.”
A little smile pricking at his lips, Bones guessed, “And this is where Jim comes in?”
The Vulcan made a noncommittal mmm noise in the back of his throat, before sipping his drink once again. Bones was half-tempted to offer him some of the alcoholic brew, but refrained. He looked uncomfortable, almost fidgety. It was unlike him.
Bones could work with this. “Alright,” he said again, “let's forget about Jim for now. We can revisit if you ever need advice on that front. I feel like we should backtrack. Spock, do you know what asexuality is? Have you been taught?”
After a second, Spock replied, “No. Not in detail. Vulcans do not teach what is already inherently known.”
“Bullshit.” Another of that damned logical species’ misgivings; they either overlooked or over-studied anything amidst their people that was different, with no thought to consequence. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s only natural your body’d work a little strangely - you’re half human after all - and they should have accommodated for that. I’d like to have a word with the VSA and VMI, I really would. Well, no time like the present, I suppose.” With a breath to spare, he continued, “Sexuality isn’t black and white, y’know. There’s no ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ with this stuff. We’re not obliged to fit into a box or label. Not how we were designed.”
Spock pursed his lips and let him speak.
“Some folks - and excuse me for the blatant emotionalism, would you - get the hots for whoever they’re attracted to consistently, and have no problem following through on those desires. Someone like Jim. He's hotheaded, knows what he wants - we’d call him allosexual. What people used to call the ‘norm’. On the other side, you’ve got axesual. Folks who generally don’t feel turned on by another person. Maybe they’re sex repulsed, maybe they’re indifferent, maybe they have sex because it’s enjoyable and their partner likes it!” He waved his hand. “All of it’s fine. Nothin’ shameful there.”
“To a Vulcan it most certainly would be shameful.”
Bones frowned. “It’s natural. You’re allowed to play it fast and loose. Do you want to experience those things with one person? Because it’s your life, not some stuffy Vulcan’s. You get to decide.”
It was as if Spock was fighting an internal battle, and Bones could see it behind those amber eyes. Fiery, intelligent confusion.
“I do not know,” he said finally. “I am grateful for your assistance in the matter, however.”
“Anytime,” sighed Bones. “It’s been enlightening, that’s for sure. I think I’m going to need to have a talk with Starfleet and the Vulcan Medical Institution on implementing some mandatory teaching about asexuality in schools though. Maybe even Jim too; I could probably get him to set up something on the Enterprise. God knows we could stand to be more open about this shit.”
Spock looked like he wanted to crawl underneath Bones’ desk and die there. But he nodded, and tapped his fingers, and agreed, “It would prove valuable to the crew members, no doubt.”
“Mmm. You have any more questions for me?”
After contemplating, the Vulcan acquiesced that he did, in fact, have another. “What do you identify as, doctor?”
Bones coughed. “Uh, well, I’d probably call myself demiromantic and asexual. Need an emotional connection to feel romantic things with a fellow, and don’t care for sex much at all. Nonplussed, I suppose. Why?”
“No reason,” said Spock quietly. Slowly he stood, putting down his glass on the desk. “I would appreciate your discretion on this matter.”
“Of course.” Opening his drawer, Bones poked about. He pulled out two dusty pamphlets and handed them over. “Take these. They should contain some more good information. Now you listen here, alright?” Leaning forward, he said fiercely, almost protectively, “don’t let anybody tell you what or what not to do with that green-blooded body of yours. Don’t let anybody - even Jim - do things with you if you don’t consent wholeheartedly. If you want to talk to him about it or ask me to do it for you, I will. And if you wanna chat about this again, I’m here - bickering be damned. But you don’t have to be ashamed of it, either. You hear me?”
“I… I do,” Spock said evenly, dipping his head a little. “I assure you I will take care of myself.”
“Mhmm.”
“Goodnight, Leonard.”
Bones’ own eyebrows raised at the mention of his first name from their usually so formal First Officer, but gave a quick smile in return. “Night, Spock. Shut the door on your way out.”
When he was alone again, he put both his elbows up on his desk and rested his chin on his knuckles, thoughts whirling. That Vulcan was going to be the death of him.
Thirty minutes later he’d composed a precise, convincing email intended for the Vulcan Medical Institution via the Vulcan Science Academy, detailing in clarity his suggestion to begin implementing study materials and directed classes on the topic of inter-species sexual health, reproduction, and diverse identity.
He hit send, and took a good, long swig of drink. With luck, it'd be the first step in starting to fix this mess.