Word count: 933 | Completed:Yes | Style: Dramatic

“This is a most embarrassing topic, Doctor.” Spock shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore McCoy’s growing smile.
“I thought you Vulcans didn’t feel human emotions. Embarrassment seems to be rather out of character.”
“McCoy, please. Surely you have gained enough enjoyment from the request, without needing to provoke me further.”
“Oh no, you pointy-eared talking calculator, I’m not letting this one go.” Leonard leaned back gleefully, enjoying the downcast expression on the Vulcan’s uncharacteristically uncomfortable visage. But Spock looked him right in the eye, and McCoy was reminded of a small puppy asking for a bone.
“I was always a sucker for small animals,” McCoy sighed.
“I beg your pardon?” Spock raised a confused eyebrow.
“Oh, nothing, nothing. How long has the hair been growing?”
Relieved to be speaking on more practical matters, Spock straightened.
“Three weeks now. Its constant concealment is increasingly becoming a nuisance, not to mention uncomfortable. I am also unsure if my means of obtaining my concealment device will be easily sustained.”

Just then the door swished open and Christine Chapel swept in.
“Doctor, it’s happened again! This really has to stop. Can we please ask the Captain to do something about it!” She glowered at McCoy.
“Well, it’s not my fault! Why are you looking at me?” he put a placating hand on her shoulder.
“What would I want with foundation anyway, hmm? I know I’m perfect as I am.”
Nurse Chapel smiled, anger momentarily forgotten.
“How about you go check your room again. I’m sure your makeup just keeps getting misplaced.” McCoy suggested. Nodding slightly, Christine smiled at Spock before leaving the medical bay.

“I believe Nurse Chapel is most upset.” McCoy said, lowering his voice in a parody of Spock’s.
“Indeed.” agreed Spock. There was an awkward pause whilst McCoy debated on weather he should milk the situation further. But Spock was doing that puppy thing again. Besides, he could use this as ammunition in the future…

“Here.” He handed Spock a small pair of tweezers.
“Thankyou, Doctor. Nurse Chapel was becoming most zealous in her concealment of her concealment device.”
“What?”
“I said that she was getting better at hiding her makeup.”
“Oh.” Leonard peered more closely at the Vulcan. Barely visible was the hint of a normal human eyebrow curving below the usual raised edge of a Vulcan point. Spock had covered it liberally in foundation, effectively hiding the hairs but causing a most unfortunate blotch that resembled a bruise.
“Just pluck ‘em out and rub this on. No more hair will be growing there in a week.” McCoy handed him a small tube of cream.
“I am most obliged, doctor McCoy.” Spock thanked him.

“Fancy that.” McCoy muttered to himself after Spock had left.
“A Vulcan being tetchy about his eyebrows. I can’t wait to tell Ji - ” but his mutterings were cut short by a hand reaching over his shoulder and administering an efficient nerve pinch.
“I apologize, doctor McCoy.” Spock said to the prone Leonard. He reached forward and initiated a short mind meld, simply removing the past ten minutes from McCoy’s mind. In most cases he would have been contravening ancient Vulcan laws, but he was thankful that Surek had, in his wisdom, allowed for situations such as this. Roughly translated, the law read thus:
“But, should an outworlder use any form of jibe pertaining to a Vulcan’s facial maintenance, he should be submitted to some form of appropriate mental altering that renders him unable to continue.”

Spock was often astounded at Surek’s wisdom, and appreciated it once again as he left the medical bay with a mildly amnesic McCoy.

Now, to pluck these irritating eyebrows…

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