Title: Reciprocation
Author: Yami no Kaiba
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spock!Prime/McCoy
Length: 1,351 words

Summary: An injury leads to a lot of kissing, in more ways than one.
Disclaimers: I do not own the characters or the concepts of Star Trek in any of its forms.
Note: Created for cards_slash, who writes lots of wonderful Spock/McCoy for me to read and requested NU!McCoy kissing Spock!Prime.

*---*---*---*---*

Personally, Leonard doesn't see how anyone could even begin to say that Spock and Ambassador Spock are the same person.

While sure, they're both genetically the same and there are behavioral tics they both display, like clasping of hands behind their backs and the slight raising of an eyebrow when something intrigues or confuses them, but in the end McCoy can't even begin to see how they're the same person.

Spock is a rigid, cold devil that only seems to thaw around Uhura or, more recently since their breakup, Jim. He can spout out every regulation in the book, and often does. And, more annoyingly, has a bad tendency to both hog lab space and time as well as understate his physical and mental health, if at all.

Ambassador Spock, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have any such problems. Not to mention age lines that Leonard can't help but blame a life time of knowing James Tiberius Kirk having put there.

"Doctor, I regret to inform you that I've cut myself on an iron spire and require medical attention."

He blinks and to his credit only hesitates a moment before taking the Ambassador's injured hand. The cut is deep and ragged at the edges but the Vulcan's green blood is already coagulating, much faster than if a Human had been cut that deep. What's really worrying is that it looks deep enough to affect the flexor digitorum superficialis tendons.

He tugs the Ambassador over to a biobed, prepared to argue over it like he would with Spock, but was once more reminded of their differences when the older man moves soundlessly with the motion. "When was your last tetanus booster?" he's asking, even as he's reaching for a hypo filled with broad-range antibiotics.

The Ambassador raises an eyebrow. "Doctor, as you are no doubt aware, the presence or absence of rust has no basis for possible infections of Clostridium tetani bacteria."

"Yeah, but you've been down on that un-surveyed planet lately, and who knows what type of bacteria you picked up while there."

"In that case, it has been 2 years, 5 months, 26 days --"

"Alright, I get it," he interrupts, knowing that was well within the 10 year recommendation. He dials the dosage and presses the hypo against the Ambassador's shoulder, hearing the satisfying hiss. "Now," he begins, putting the spent hypo down to refill later. He takes the hand back in both of his pressing firmly with his thumbs along the edges of the wound, noting mentally which muscles will need to be re-knit. "Stretch and curl your fingers in sequence for me."

Ambassador Spock proceeds to do so, proving difficulty in the exercise for the middle and pointer digit. Luckily, the movement showing under the skin and the feeling beneath his questing fingers indicate it to be more due to a loss of muscle use than tendon.

Unexpectedly, the Ambassador attempts to pull away, causing Leonard to grip harder with his other hand, while still running his fingers along the tendon lines for the troubling digits. "Hey now, none of that."

"Doctor, this is highly inappropriate," the Ambassador says in a lowered, strained tone. It surprises Leonard enough to look up from his ministrations, to the noticeably dilated pupils of his patient.

"What? What am I doing? Some weird Vulcan taboo?"

"No, Doctor. In fact, quite the opposite."

He's watching now, cataloguing minute differences as he's learned to do for the less tractable patients of his. Dilated pupils, the lightest tint of a green flush to the aged skin, a small, barely perceptible flutter in the pulse under his fingertips. "Spock, you just recoiled like a barn cat that had its tail stepped on, minus the yowl. Now, what did I do?"

"Interesting. I had assumed, considering the amount of refugees, that you would have been versed in Vulcan cultural gestures due to observation."

Then it clicks and he's fighting off a blush the like of the one from his wedding day. Because yes, he has seen this before, in his peripheral vision as he was elbows deep in a dozen of critical Vulcan patients that had been beamed up randomly from the surface. Its intimate, he knows that much, a gesture that had gotten heavy stares by the more physically capable Vulcans.

But he's a doctor, damn it all, and he's not going to flinch like a scalded lobster. Keeping his hands as steady as ever, he dug in at the base of the tendons on the fingers to make sure the response was accurate.

Ambassador Spock gasped, even as the fingers jerked minutely. "Would you please desist in that action?"

"Only if you tell me what the action's human equivalent is," he says right back, even as he lets go of the palm to grab the muscle knitter and dermal regenerator off of a tray nearby.

"There is no precise equivalent, Doctor," the Ambassador murmures, as the instruments made mechanical whining noises while Leonard worked. "As you must know, Vulcan hands, especially their finger tips, are 4.3 times as sensitive as that of Humans in those areas, 2.7 times as sensitive as a Human's lips. The best parallel to the action you initiated would be the act of kissing. There are, however, intimations such an act places on the participants."

Despite his resolve not to flinch, there is a definite shiver going down his spine. "Ah, intimations? What sort? Brothers, family, fiancés, lovers, married couples?"

"I would have to say all those but brothers, Doctor, depending on the movements."

He switches off the regenerator and brings the palm up for better lighting and inspection. "I see... Well, this looks as good as new, but it'll be sore for a few days. Luckily you're ambidextrous, so that shouldn't be a problem for you."

He's not sure he can name what impulse grabs him – he's willing to blame it all on spending too much time with James 'I-drove-a-car-off-a-cliff-once' Kirk – but he bends over quickly to leave a kiss over the newly healed skin. When he straightens back up, the Ambassador is eyeing him with that now familiar sparkle of curiosity. No question is asked, however, and a charged sort of silence takes over between them as the ridiculousness of his action catches up to him and he can't fight his blush anymore.

"An Earth tradition I'm sure you must recognize," he says for want of breaking the strained silence.

"Mmm," the Ambassador agrees, though that curiosity hasn't disappeared. "My mother often did the same when I came home after an altercation at school when I was young."

"That's a lot of words just to say 'My mom did it too'," he blusters, glad to have some other emotion to grab onto than embarrassment.

A silvered eyebrow rises as crinkles of humor are created around laughing eyes. "And yet an accurate description none-the-less for its length, Doctor."

He lets his breath out in a humph and waves a finger in front of the other's face. "Now you're just doing it to piss me off and get a laugh at the expense of the excitable Human, aren't you?"

The elder Vulcan pushes off of the biobed, that smile still in his eyes and etched in his skin. "Believe me, Doctor, that was not my intention."

"Oh? And what is?" he asks, suspicious as he eyes the way the other is leaning in towards him.

"A simple reciprocation," is said so low he almost doesn't hear it, and it barely registers before the Ambassador's lips are over his own.

A skilled tongue sweeps across his parted lips before delving inward. He can't help but think that reciprocation is a two-way street, and decides to meet the Ambassador half-way as he trails his hands down from their startled grab at Spock's shoulders to thread their fingers together.

And yeah, Leonard really doesn't see how anyone could say the two Spocks are the same. While his universe's Spock kisses Uhura and now Jim like he's drowning, this Spock here in his arms kisses like he's finally coming home.

--Fin.