are there men on this planet?

“Len! There you are! Don’t you go disappearing on me like that again! I was searching all over for you. Try to stay in my sight, would you? The captain told us to stick together for a reason!”

Scotty rushed over and grabbed McCoy around the shoulders, looking him up and down, as if he was the one who would know what to do if the doctor had been hurt.

“Oh, what is it Mr. Scott, do you want me to hold your hand so you don’t get lost again?” McCoy shrugged Scotty’s hands away and gently nudged him towards their destination.

“Ah well, it’s a shame we’ve not got any rope. I could just hold on tight when you go running off again so you don’t go too far. Would give us a wee bit more room to move about than linking hands, don’t you think?”

He started scanning around for something that might be used for such a purpose, but there wasn’t much fibrous material to be found in the desolate landscape.

“Uh huh. Or it would just get tangled up in a bush and we’d spend half the mission picking bits of sticks out of your string. Come on, you’ll be fine,” McCoy pushed ahead several paces. They were already behind their designated schedule.

“Oh… aye, I suppose you’re right. In that case, we’re better off without the rope.”

“Yes, we are. Now hurry up,” McCoy gesticulated exasperatedly, but suddenly his hand felt heavy.

“Alright, I’m coming, stop trying to run off again! At least let me get a grip first before you start pulling me along.” Scotty pulled McCoy’s hand back and adjusted his grip as McCoy looked at his hand - their hands, now locked together, almost in shock.

Suddenly, Scotty was the one pulling McCoy along. “There, that’s better!”

“Oh… yes Monty, it is,” McCoy drawled, the corners of his lips pulling upward as they resumed their trek.