Drowned Rats

(One-Shot)

Water splashed onto his nose, and McCoy finally broke,

"God damn it! We're going to drown and it's all your fault you green-blooded, logic-hungry bastard."

"I assure you, Doctor, that we are not going to drown."

"Tell that to our friend."

Spock calmly looked at their friend, the pale white bones on the wall parallel to his position, and explained, "A skeleton does not have the specific auditory and cranial functions required to process the vocal sounds and words needed to explain the situation."

"No shit."

"Doctor, I believe you are having, what you humans call, a panic-attack."

"What gave you that idea?" McCoy snapped, pulling against the metal clasps around his wrists, "The fact that water is up to our hips, or that I'm blaming you for our imminent deaths!?"

"My hearing has not been impaired, Doctor, you need not raise your voice."

"Enough of your god-damned logic, Spock!"

"That was not logic."

"Then what was it?"

"Fact."

"Fact, logic, I've heard enough of it!!"

"Doctor-,"

"Spock, tell me."

Spock glanced over, tilted his head.

"What in god's name possessed you to join me and drink the ale?"

"The captain's orders were to be courteous to these people."

"So you drank the ale."

"It was offered."

"Your Vulcan-logic didn't tell you it could be tainted with a sleeping agent?"

"Negative, Doctor. I believe human intuition would be better suited for that."

"Fucking hell."

"I don't believe the situation requires the use of colorful metaphors."

"You think?" McCoy sighed, let himself sink against the wall, "How long have we been in here?"

"1.52 hours, 6 seconds."

"We look like drowned rats...and we're going to look a hell of a lot worse the longer we stay in the water."

"We can manage a while longer."

"In a few hours, our skin—my skin, anyway—will start to peel off!"

Spock's nose crinkled disgust.

McCoy slumped, "What's taking Jim so long?"

"He is unpredictable, thus I cannot ascertain an exact time for his arrival."

"What is he doing? I know he was seducing the hostess, but...what in god's name could he be doing that's taking him so long?"

"He is in the process of performing intercourse."

"Huh?" McCoy blinked, "What?"

"The Captain is performing the mating ritual with our host."

"You mean they're having sex."

"I believe I just said that."

"Damn Vulcan."

Spock leaned his head against the wall, "Doctor, in the 4.54 minutes that we've been speaking, the water has risen 1.276 feet."

"Bleeding hobgoblin!" McCoy shouts, "Why didn't you tell me it was rising!?"

"The water is increasing at a faster rate than before—I assumed it was obvious."

"It's not obvious when you're having a panic-attack."

"I believe the appropriate response is: Calm down, Bones".

"JIM! JIM!" The man shouted, "JIM! Can you hear us? Get your gigolo ass down here and save us!"

"Doctor." Spock said, calmly.

"JIM!"

"Doctor."

McCoy pulled against his bonds, hands turning white with strain.

"Doctor."

"What, Spock?" The name was hissed.

"Doctor," Spock began, voice sharp, "there is a multi-legged creature crawling on your shoulder."

Said Doctor blinked, looked down—saw the critter—and screamed, "Spock, Spock!! Get it off!"

"As you know, I am also bound to the wall—and cannot offer my services to you, at this time."

"It's going to kill me!"

"It's a tarantula."

"It's a monster, that's what it is."

"It will do you no harm if you let it be."

"It's got fangs, Spock. I can see them!"

"Doctor-,"

"They're moving!! It's like he's fixing to eat me."

"Humans are not a delicacy."

"Spock! It's climbing on my head!" The Doctor whined, closing his eyes—breath quickening, "It'll suck me dry and eat my brain!"

"Doctor..." He paused, "Leonard."

"What?"

"Those are unwarranted fears. The tarantula simply wants a nest."

"A what?"

"It's female."

"So?"

"She requires a nest."

"What makes you say that?"

"I believe she's producing offspring in your hair."

"Oh hell no!" McCoy squirmed, "I'm a doctor, not a nursery!"

"Doctor, your earlier presumption that we will drown is now 82.5 percent accurate."

"Lovely."

"The water is at our shoulders."

"If the water and spider doesn't kill me, it'll be your damned precision."

"I highly doubt that."

"What can we do? I can't believe I'm asking this, but...Spock, use your logic—what should we do? What can I do?"

"Wait for Jim."

"He's having sex."

"He is."

"Then were dead men."

A minute ticked by, the water touched his chin, and Spock finally broke,

"I concede to your conclusion, Doctor."

"About time we agree on something."

Spock nodded.

"Shame we have to agree on our deaths."

Another nod.

"Spock! Bones! Where the hell are you guys?" A voice shouted from somewhere beyond the brick walls.

McCoy perked, tarantula falling into the water with the sudden head-jerk, "Jim? JIM!! We're in here!"

A door was thrown open. Loudly.

McCoy sighed, "We're not in the broom closet, Jim!"

"Doctor," Spock began.

Leonard diverted his attention to the Vulcan, "Hm?"

"I retract my earlier statement."

"Which one?"

"I no longer concede to your conclusion."

"Damn right you don't."

R&R Please!

McCoy and Spock's interactions have always been one of my favorite bits to Star Trek--and I hope I've kept them in-character and stayed true to the original series :)
I hope you enjoyed!