Archive of Our Own

Week I: Conception

“Oh,” Jim grunted as Spock’s tongue pierced him. He never would have expected the Vulcan to do something like that. But damn it felt good. Jim lost himself in the feel of it all. The buzz from the alcohol—well, truthfully, a hell of a lot more than a buzz, but who was keeping track? Spock’s tongue spreading him open. The primal bass pumping through the walls of the alien club into the back room, where Spock had him pinned against the wall, strong hands holding Jim’s hips in place. The smell of sex that filled the entire room, the grunts of other people barely audible over the music.

And then a lubricated finger slid in beside Spock’s tongue, dancing against his prostate and sending sparks of pleasure through Jim’s veins. “Now, Spock, do it now.”

“As you wish,” Spock replied, his voice deep and rough. Jim felt him rise from the ground and then the Vulcan’s cock was pushing at his slick entrance. Jim pushed back, and Spock’s cock slid into him completely. Jim groaned. It had been a long time since he’d been fucked by anyone this big. When his Vulcan was fully inside, Spock kissed the back of his neck. “Acceptable?”

“Oh god, yes,” Jim panted. “Fuck me. Please, Spock, fuck me.”

The Vulcan pounded into him so hard he almost worried he wouldn’t be able to sit the next morning. Then Spock hit his prostate and reached around to stroke his cock, and Jim really didn’t give a fuck about anything else.

He came when Spock moaned, “Jim,” in his ear.

Week II: Wishing Is Illogical

Spock was relieved. Their week of shore-leave was over. It would be months before Spock would have to once again endure watching Jim leave with someone different each night. Sometimes more than one someone. And sometimes he went to the backroom of the club with one person and then went home with someone else.

If guilt weren’t a Human emotion, Spock would be suffering from it. He had taken advantage of Jim while Jim was in a vulnerable state. Spock had seen how many drinks the Captain had consumed but when the Captain had leaned over and kissed him, grabbing his hand and rubbing circles on his palm, Spock’s control had gone out the proverbial window. Instead of taking Jim back to the ship and putting him to bed, Spock had fucked him against the dirty wall of the club.

The whole thing had left Spock rattled and wishing for things that couldn’t be. Wishing was illogical, but Spock couldn’t help himself, no matter how long he meditated each evening.

Spock wished their first time hadn’t been against the dirty wall of a club. He wished he had been permitted to kiss the Captain more than the one time that started the whole encounter. He wished he had fucked Jim face to face instead of from behind. He wished their first time together wasn’t also their last time together. He wished he and the Captain could be in a relationship. He wished the Captain had been sober for it all.

Spock wished a lot of things.

The thing he wished most was that Jim had remembered.

Week III: Nausea

Jim wasn’t feeling well. He had a stomach bug or something. It was odd, though, that it only happened at about 2300, and only if he’d eaten something after 2100. The nausea came regardless, but if he’d eaten, the nausea devolved into vomiting. It had been happening every day for the last nine days. If it happened tomorrow… he’d have to figure something out. Because like fuck was he going to see Bones about this. Bones bitched about Jim’s health more than enough as it was.

Week IV: What Ails Jim?

Spock had heard Jim retching in their shared bathroom multiple times over the last 1.9 weeks. He wished there was something he could do, some way he could help. But Jim wouldn’t want to show weakness. All Spock could do was try and do more of Jim’s paperwork without Jim realizing it and let Jim suffer through it alone.

But if it didn’t pass soon, Spock would be forced to confront Jim about it. The only reason he hadn’t was because Jim always seemed perfectly fine when they saw each other. Perhaps a bit tired, but healthy. Perhaps Spock should bypass Jim and go straight to Dr. McCoy.

Week V: Pregnant

Jim stared down at the little plastic stick in his hand—pointedly ignoring the other three already lined up on his bathroom counter. Every single one of them had a little blue plus sign on it. “Fuck,” he swore. He couldn’t be pregnant. He couldn’t. He was on birth control. Half of the test subjects hadn’t been able to conceive at all.

So it was just a mistake. The replicator had given him malfunctioning home pregnancy tests. He’d just—just—fuck. He couldn’t tell Bones. This wasn’t the sort of problem Spock would be good at helping him with. Who else could he trust to help him?

Jim called engineering. “Dr. Marcus to Captain’s quarters, ASAP.”

Five minutes later, his door chimed. “Come,” he called out.

Carol entered and he sat down heavily on his bed. He buried his fingers in his hair.

She sat down next to him and asked, “Can I assume this isn’t a professional call, Jim?”

Jim laughed bitterly. “Yeah. Yeah, you can. I need your help.”

“What’s the problem?” Carol asked, placing a hand on his knee.

He gestured vaguely to the bathroom. She got up and walked slowly to the other room, where Jim knew the pregnancy tests were still lined up on the counter. He really hoped he’d remembered to lock the door that led to Spock’s quarters.

A minute later, Carol returned, a stupid stick with a little blue plus sign in her hand. “Jim,” she said slowly, “Whose are these?”

“Mine,” he croaked.

Carol stared at him for a moment before saying, “Am I missing something? Because the last I knew, Human men can’t get pregnant. This is a home pregnancy kit, right? Not some weird-ass STI kit?”

Jim swallowed. He’d never told anyone this. It wasn’t in his medical records, so not even Bones knew about it. “When I was sixteen, I ran away from home, I needed money. I saw this medical study they were doing. All I had to do was let them implant a fake uterus in me and see if their fake embryos could attach to the uterine wall.”

“‘All you had to do’? Jim, that’s major surgery!”

Jim ignored her and continued with the story. “Well, I needed the money and I knew people who knew people so it wasn’t difficult to get a fake ID. So they did the implant, they tested it, everything went fine. They gave everyone the option of having it removed, but you got more money if they left it—long term side effects, you know? Well, they still send us updates about the study every two months. There is only one other man who’s gotten pregnant without IVF, Carol, one. And he and his partner were trying to get pregnant.” That had been a weird message. Congratulations, patient 122, your boyfriend was successful in knocking you up, and hey, our uteri can work without IVF, this is fantastic! Well, not exactly like that, but close enough.

“I’m on birth control they adapted for men,” Jim said. “It’s almost impossible to get pregnant as it is. How the fuck did this happen?”

Carol looked at him thoughtfully before saying, “Perhaps… maybe Khan’s blood vitalized the organ in some way. Made it more efficient somehow. Maybe his blood breaks down the birth control, or makes it less effective in some way. Who knows? The question is, are you going to keep it?”

Jim swallowed and then said, “It was a fake ID, so they were fake medical records as well. There’s nothing about this in my legitimate records. How am I supposed to be sure this is right? I can’t very well just waltz into medical and say, ‘Hey, Bones, I think I’m pregnant, care to run a test for me?’”

Carol hesitated and then said, “I could do it.”

“You could do what?”

“Waltz into medical and tell Len I think I’m pregnant,” Carol replied. “Make him think the test is mine.”

Jim hesitated. It sounded good. Really good. There was just one thing. “Bones would be devastated if it came back positive and then you told him it wasn’t his. Or yours.”

Carol visibly hesitated. “In the interest of honesty, I just took two of these tests myself. I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant as well. I could tell Len that I’m getting mixed results on the home tests, so I want two lab tests just to be sure.”

“What if I am and you’re not?” Jim asked. “Or you are and I’m not?”

Carol waved the pee stick in Jim’s face. “You have four of these, Jim. Four. All positive.” She didn’t need to explain further. The chance that he wasn’t pregnant was so small only Spock would be able to calculate it.

“Fine,” Jim said. “Let’s do it.”

§§§

Jim lurked outside medical, eavesdropping on Carol and Bones’ conversation.

“Len, you might want to sit down,” Carol said gently.

“Oh god,” Bones replied. “If you’re going to break up with me, can it wait? For when it’s not technically my shift and I’m allowed to drink.”

“Nothing like that,” she said. “It’s just… I think I’m pregnant.”

Bones was silent for a long time before bursting out, “That’s fantastic!”

Yep. It would have been a terrible idea for them to trick him into thinking that it was Carol’s sample when it was actually Jim’s. “I’m not sure,” Carol said. “I’m getting mixed results with the replicated home kits. Do you think you could run a lab test for me? Two, just to be sure?”

“One is plenty accurate,” Bones argued.

“Please, Len,” Carol said. “I want to be sure.”

“Alright,” Bones answered gruffly. “Let me get you a couple of cups.”

“I’ll have to take them back to my quarters,” she said. “You know how I feel about public restrooms.”

“The med bay restroom is hardly public,” Bones argued. His tone was eager, and Jim knew his friend well enough to know that Bones just wanted the results as quickly as possible.

“Len,” Carol said.

“Okay, okay. Just hurry.”

Carol emerged, two cups in hand. “Let’s do this,” she whispered to Jim.

§§§

They took turns in Jim’s bathroom, labeling Carol’s sample A and Jim’s sample B. When they took it to the lab, Carol went in first. Jim followed, drawling, “What’s happening here, Bones?”

“Carol’s pregnant,” Bones burst out, a grin on his face. Then he winced and looked at his girlfriend. “Sorry. Jim’s my best friend and I’m so happy about this.”

Oh god, if Carol weren’t pregnant and Jim was, Jim was going to feel so, so guilty. He was already going to owe Carol forever for this. If this hurt Bones, he’d owe Bones for forever and then some.

Bones quickly ran the test. “Sample A is positive,” he said. Thank god. “You’re pregnant!”

“Len,” Carol reminded him, “The other sample. Just to be sure.”

Bones ran the second sample and frowned. Thank god. That meant the tests were different. Carol could say one of them was a friend’s, she wouldn’t have to disclose which friend, and Jim would just always use condoms from now on, rather than relying on birth control and hypos. “You’re definitely pregnant,” Bones said, face screwed up in a scowl. “But the first test showed hormone levels indicative of you being eight to ten weeks pregnant. The second shows you being only four to five weeks pregnant. Do you think I could run another test? Make sure the machine isn’t malfunctioning?”

“It’s fine,” Carol said. “Len, the first test was mine. The second wasn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Fuck,” Jim swore, as the answer finally sank in. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Bones and Carol stared at him. “Jim?” Bones asked. Then he frowned. “Did you knock one of the crew members up? Is the second sample a woman you slept with and might have gotten pregnant? So help me, James Kirk, if you—”

Jim decided to eat the phaser, so to speak, and interrupted the doctor. “It’s me. I’m pregnant.”

Bones stared. “Excuse me?”

“The second test is mine,” Jim answered. “I… damn it. Should’ve had the damn thing removed.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s sit down. This’ll take a while.”

Week VI: A Little Parasite

Spock was gratified that Jim had decided to see Dr. McCoy without his prompting. Jim was still getting ill rather often, but Dr. McCoy wasn’t in a panic. Logically, it was some sort of flu bug that Jim’s unique immune system was having difficulty fighting off, in spite of the fact that no one else had been infected.

The amount of time Jim was spending with McCoy increased, but as they were friends, it wasn’t an unbelievable amount. Spock only wished Jim would tell him.

Over chess one evening, Spock decided to probe the issue. See how Jim felt. “Jim, do not feel as though you have to answer. I have heard you vomiting nearly every evening and you are spending an increasing amount of time with Dr. McCoy. Are you ill? I only ask because it is my duty as first officer to make sure you are functioning at optimum efficiency.”

Jim smiled. “I’m fine, Spock. A little parasite is all. Dr. McCoy is working on it.” He moved a rook up a level. “Checkmate. Efficient enough for you?”

“Indeed, Captain.”

“We’re off-duty.”

“Indeed, Jim.”

Week VII: No Choice

“Well?” Jim asked. “Can you?”

Bones looked at the tricorder, looked at a different scan he’d taken with some piece of old-fashioned machinery Jim didn’t know the name of, and looked at Jim’s vitals. “I could but I won’t,” Bones answered, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I looked up those studies. The men who have successfully gotten pregnant have shown healthier, safer pregnancies than most women, strange as it seems. Something about the synthetic uterus seems to aid the pregnancy. But since they have all desired children, abortion has never been an issue. It hasn’t been done and I don’t want to try it out here in deep space, days away from any larger medical facilities.”

Jim relaxed on the bed and ran a hand across his abdomen. It had lost its definition in the last couple weeks and was already beginning to look a little bit round. It was actually kind of a relief, that Bones was making this decision for him. Professionally, now was not the time to be getting pregnant. Especially considering he had lied to Starfleet about his medical history. But emotionally, he was already attached to the little alien being inside him—and he knew it was alien. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept with someone completely Human.

Professionally it could be disastrous but if he’d had the choice, he wasn’t sure he would be capable of killing it. Having the decision taken out of his hands was, for the first time in his life, a good thing. “Thanks, Bones,” he said. “You’ll help me with all the prenatal stuff, though? And help me with the baby after it’s born?”

Bones’ features softened. “Of course, kid. Wouldn’t throw you in the deep end without a lifejacket until I knew you could swim.”

“I can’t swim right now, Bones.”

“You’ll learn. It’s scary and you’ll need help, but you’ll learn.”

Week VIII: Attention, Senior Officers

They were drifting through space, endlessly charting stars, so Spock didn’t know why Jim had called a briefing of all his Senior Officers. Spock would be a bit disgruntled, but he wasn’t, because that was a Human emotion. Jim should have briefed him first, to determine if it was this important. Spock was First Officer. It was his job to help Jim with decisions such as that. He was absolutely not irritated that Jim hadn’t wanted to tell him first.

“You all received my message, right?” Jim opened.

“Aye, Captain,” Scott said. “But I couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. Men gettin’ pregnant? That’s not the way o’ the world, it isn’t, at least not for Humans. How does it relate to us?”

There was a heavy pause before Jim finally answered Scott’s question. “I had the implant. I was part of that study. Something went wrong with my contraceptive, likely because of the blood transfusion I received from Khan, and I am now pregnant. Dr. McCoy has determined that terminating the pregnancy is more dangerous than continuing it.”

Everyone stared at Jim. Spock could barely think. Jim was pregnant. Jim was pregnant. Jim was pregnant. Spock had to suppress the irrational jealousy that flooded him when he noticed that Dr. Marcus didn’t look surprised in the least. Dr. McCoy was one thing; as Jim’s physician, he had to know the situation. But Dr. Marcus was a weapons expert, meaning there was no reason Jim should have told her before he told Spock. Spock took a deep breath through his nose, raised a single eyebrow, and stayed silent.

When no one said anything, Jim ran a hand through his hair, as Spock had realized he did when he was feeling uncertain of himself. He did it surprisingly often for someone who seemed so self-assured. It was likely no one else had noticed because Jim ran his fingers through his hair as though he were simply rearranging it, rather than revealing it as the nervous habit it was. Finally Jim said, “So I’m going to have a kid. Anyone want to comment on that? Anything at all? At this point I’d take one of you telling me I’m going to be a shit father, as long as you stop staring at me like I’ve grown another head. Well, I suppose if you want to get technical, I am in the process of growing another head, but it’s not actually mine, and it’s not visible at the moment, so I don’t—”

Spock took pity on Jim and said, “How many weeks pregnant are you?”

Jim appeared relieved that he wasn’t the only one speaking. “About eight, Bones says. Makes sense, since that was the last time I got laid.”

Spock knows without thinking about it that that was the same week he had intercourse with Jim. The chances that the child is his are extremely slim, of course, since in those eight days of shore leave Jim had sex with four women and six men other than himself. And there is a small possibility that Spock may have missed some.

So based on the time Jim likely conceived, there are six other known candidates for paternity. Working under the assumption that he had not missed any of the candidates, there is only a 16.67 percent chance the child is Spock’s. Less, even, since he’s sure that Jim participated in more than one round of intercourse with at least the Andorian and the Risian. And the virility of Orion males surpassed that of Vulcan males not experiencing the blood fever. Yes. The likelihood that the child is Spock’s is less than 6 percent.

Nyota’s voice drew him from his calculations. “Captain, I just want to be clear. Should we be offering you congratulations on this or would you have terminated had Dr. McCoy allowed it?”

Spock wanted to growl at the question. There was only a 5 percent chance that it was his child, meaning an abortion would most likely not be terminating his child. But the idea of killing a child that had even a 5 percent chance of being his was repulsive. He managed to hold himself in check to hear Jim’s answer.

“Congratulations, I think,” Jim replied. “I probably won’t ever see the father again, even if it’s obvious who it is because the baby has antennae or green skin or whatever, but that’s okay. The baby is still mine.”

Nyota smiled. “Then congratulations, Captain. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Uhura,” Jim said brightly. “It’s good to know you’re in my corner.”

Spock nodded his agreement. “I believe I am speaking for the entire crew when I say that we are all ‘in your corner,’ as you phrased it.”

Jim graced him with a bright smile and said, “Okay, that’s all. Back to your posts. Or whatever you were doing if it’s not your shift.”

As they began filing out the door, Scott suddenly groaned. “Jim! Now who am I supposed to drink with?”

Week IX: Congratulations! It’s a…

Jim poked at the roundness of his belly, which was obvious with his shirt rolled up the way it was. His bump was becoming more obvious by the day. He’d have to announce it to the crew at large any day now. At least then the engineers would stop asking if he and Scotty had had a fight and that was the reason they’d stopped drinking together.

Bones swatted his hand away. “Don’t. If you don’t stay still, I won’t be able to get accurate readings.”

“Boooones,” Jim whined.

“I don’t wanna hear it, kid,” Bones groused. “You got yourself into this mess. I’m gonna make sure that some good comes out of it. You’re gonna be healthier coming out of this pregnancy than you were going into it.”

Jim didn’t like where this was headed. “Meaning?”

“You’re going to take the vitamins I prescribe you. You aren’t going to question a single hypospray I wave at you. You are going to stick to a strict diet which I will provide for you. Any cravings you get must be approved by me. You will get the requisite amount of sleep. You will no longer be part of the landing parties—”

“But Bones—”

Bones continued to ignore him. “And anything else I say pertaining to your health, you will do without question. Is that clear?”

“Yes, doctor,” Jim muttered, crossing his arms.

“Good. Now. Do you want to know the sex?”

Jim bit his lip. Slowly he nodded.

Bones hit a button on a tricorder Jim had learned was designed specifically for people who were pregnant. The smallest of smiles touched his lips. “It’s a girl.”

Jim looked down at his abdomen and ran a finger over Bump. “A girl,” he murmured. “A daughter.”

“Do you want me to scan for species?” Bones asked. “I know you don’t sleep with Humans. I can probably tell you what species she is, so you can at least narrow down the father.”

Jim shrugged. “It doesn’t matter who the father is. I didn’t exchange contact information with any of them. I didn’t even get the Orion’s name. Two of the others I don’t remember their names.” He looked up at Bones. “I have no way of finding the father, even if I knew who it was. Bump is my baby. What species she is doesn’t matter to me.”

“Bump?” Bones asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jim refused to blush. “That’s what I’ve named her. For now, at least. I’ll figure out a name later.” He looked at Bones. “What about you and Carol? You know the sex?”

Bones immediately forgot that he’d just been lecturing Jim. A wide smile crossed his face. “Twin boys,” he said.

“Twins? Congratulations!” Jim exclaimed. “Tell her for me, will you?”

“Yeah,” Bones answered. “I will.”

§§§

Later that day, Jim walked onto the bridge to find a huge sign draped over the viewscreen. It was emblazoned with sparkling pink letters reading, It’s a girl!

“What the hell is this?” Jim demanded.

Uhura looked damn close to laughing. Spock had both eyebrows raised. “I thought it obvious, Captain,” his First Officer said. “Dr. Marcus wished to congratulate you on the sex of your child.”

Chekov and Sulu both spun around in their seats. “Child, Keptin?” the navigator asked.

Jim was going to kill Carol. Well he would, but she was his best friend’s girlfriend and she was pregnant with Bump’s honorary siblings. Killing Carol wasn’t an option. And he did need to tell people.

“I participated in an experimental medical study eight years ago,” Jim said. “And now I’m pregnant. No, I don’t know who the father is. Yes, I’m keeping it. And as Dr. Marcus has made so abundantly obvious, I’m having a girl.”

Jim was a bit frightened by how positively gleeful Uhura looked.

Week X: Uncle Spock

So Jim was going to have a daughter. Spock had spent the last week trying to reconcile the idea of Jim parenting a baby girl. The idea of Jim as a father was strange in and of itself, but the idea of him trying to raise a female was somehow even more baffling. Logically it shouldn’t be any stranger than Jim raising a boy, but it was.

Then again, perhaps Spock was merely hoping Jim would have trouble, so that he would have more chances to help. Of course, Spock had no experience rearing children, but an extra set of hands would surely be an advantage, right?

So over their chess game one night, he said, “Jim?”

“Yes?” Jim’s face told Spock the Captain was pleased, most likely because Spock had used his name.

“As your friend, I would be happy to assist you with anything you need, both during your pregnancy and after the child is born,” Spock offered. “If there is anything you require, you need only ask.”

It was a long few seconds before Jim quietly replied, “Thanks, Spock, I really appreciate that.” Jim moved a bishop and then said, “Do you think I’ll be able to teach Bump how to beat you at chess?”

“Unlikely,” Spock replied. “As you have no real strategy, there is nothing that can truly be taught.” He moved his remaining rook to protect his queen from the trap Jim was attempting to lay.

They played in silence for several turns. Eventually, Jim said, “Uncle Spock. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Spock responded by raising his eyebrow. It didn’t sound terrible. Father would have been better, but Uncle was not terrible. It meant Jim planned on keeping Spock in the baby’s—and consequently, Jim’s—life for an indefinite period. That was the most important thing. Jim shrugged at the eyebrow lift and said, “Bump will need to call you something, right?”

“Are you simply going to call her Bump for all of her life? Because I find that, while the name is unique, it is likely she would be taunted for it.” And Spock would never wish bullying on any child.

“No,” Jim replied. “I haven’t thought about it much. I figure that the right name will just come to me. And if it doesn’t come to me by the time she’s born… well, she’ll be a baby, right? Not having a name for a few days won’t mean anything to her.”

Spock decided to let the subject drop, even though not deciding on a name for the baby—particularly when you knew the child’s sex—seemed illogical. Jim was a very illogical being and Spock would not change him, even if he could. Spock only hoped he could influence the child enough that she would be at least a bit more logical than her father; such a feat would not be difficult, after all.

Week XI: The Look

Jim regarded the comm before him thoughtfully. He looked down at his ever-expanding belly, where his adorable little anti-alcohol, nausea-inducing parasite lived. “We’ll have to do it eventually, right? And it’s not like it won’t reach the Admiralty sooner or later. I should probably tell them about you myself, right? Right.” He hit the button and said, “Admiral Castell.”

She answered almost immediately. “Captain Kirk, what a surprise. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Jim knew she was fond of him—it was the main reason he had called her rather than anyone else. He also knew that her friendship with Pike was the only reason she liked him; Pike had somehow convinced her that Jim was worth something, and she still seemed to believe it, even though Pike was dead. “It’s not entirely business,” he told her. “But it’s not entirely personal either.”

She gave him The Look. Jim was fairly certain Admirals took a course in giving The Look. He also suspected that the professor of the course was a Vulcan. “Well, Jim?”

Jim scratched the back of his neck. “Well, this is kind of hard to explain. Can I just start by saying that when you sign up for Starfleet and have a doctor fax in your medical records, they don’t ask if there’s anything missing? They just ask if what is there is all true?”

“James Kirk, what did you do?”

“I had a procedure done when I was sixteen. They implanted me with a manufactured uterus. There were about four hundred of us in the program. Only about half of us could conceive at all, and that was with embryos that were manufactured to cling to the uterine wall better than a real one ever could. Only one man has gotten pregnant without IVF and he and his partner were trying for a baby.

“The synthetic uterus is designed to draw an amount of my semen up through a tube whenever I climax, and the uterus is supposed to produce chemicals to make it possible for two sperm cells to bond the way an egg cell and a sperm cell typically would. So—”

“Get to the point, Kirk,” Castell very nearly growled.

“It was almost impossible to get pregnant anyway and I was on specially-formulated contraceptives, but apparently one of the guys I slept with last time we were on-planet has super-sperm or something.” She continued staring at him, and Jim realized that Castell knew what was going on, but she was going to make him admit it to her out loud. “I’m pregnant,” he huffed. “Bones thinks Khan’s blood either made my uterus more efficient or made my birth control less effective. Or both.”

Castell reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “And how many men could be the father?”

“Five,” Jim answered. “I went home with another, but what he wanted was to watch while I fucked his wife.”

“Jim.” Said with The Look turned up to eleven.

“Sorry. Anyway. There were five guys. I think it was probably the Andorian, since I did it with him more times than with any of the other guys, or the Orion, cause you know what their sperm count is like,” Jim answered. Making Castell feel as uncomfortable as he felt was actually making this easier. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it? I have no way to contact any of them. Bump is mine, no one else’s, end of story.”

Castell gave him a disapproving look. “You’re keeping it then?”

“Aside from the fact that Bones—Dr. McCoy, I mean, said it would be more dangerous to terminate than to keep it, yes. I want this baby.” Jim still hadn’t pinned down why he wanted her; he’d never met his own father, his mother was drunk for half his childhood and gone for the other half, and an abusive, alcoholic stepfather wasn’t exactly the best parental role model. But the fact remained that he wanted Bump, more than anything.

“Enough to risk your career?”

Jim glanced at the wall of his quarters, the wall of his beautiful ship. Then he looked down at Bump. He loved both more than he loved anything else. There was just one difference. “The Enterprise doesn’t need me, Admiral, not the way Bump needs me.”

Admiral Castell sighed and said, “Well, there aren’t any regulations against a pregnant woman being on active duty or captaining a ship. There sure as hell aren’t any against a pregnant man doing it. I’ll see what I can do to alter your medical records, so they show up as you having had this procedure. But you owe me so many favors you will never be done paying me back.”

Jim rested his hand on Bump. “I know. Thank you so much.”

“You plan to raise it on the Enterprise?”

“Yeah,” Jim replied.

“Okay. Well, I’ll go deal with the clusterfuck you’ve just made of your medical records,” she said.

“Admiral, one last thing.”

She gave him The Look yet again. He’d have to see if he could somehow take that class. He was sure it would be great for discipline when Bump was a teenager. Hell, he was a starship Captain and every time it was used on him, he still felt like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“She,” Jim just said, “Bump is a girl.”

The Look flickered into the shadow of a smile, and then he heard, “Castell out,” before the screen went blank.

Jim rolled his shirt up, making the bulge that much more obvious. “Well, Bump, that could have gone a lot worse than it did.”

Week XII: Romulan Mollusk and Plomeek Soup

“Spoooooooock,” Jim whined.

“You need something, Captain?”

“Tell Bones it’s okay if Scotty reprograms the replicator so I can have Romulan mollusk,” Jim complained. “He keeps saying it has too many fats, but it’s what Bump wants. She wants Romulan mollusk really, really badly. And Bones used his CMO override code on my replicator card so the replicator won’t give me anything not on his approved list. I haven’t had a hamburger in weeks. Can’t I have just one teeny, tiny mollusk?”

“Romulan mollusks are far from being ‘teeny, tiny,” Spock replied. He regarded Jim carefully for a moment before adding, “And I believe that you should defer to the doctor’s expertise on this. I know he is monitoring both yours and… Bump’s vital signs closely. If he believes she is malnourished in any way, he will inform you immediately and change your approved list to include the foods necessary to return her to optimum health.”

“Spoooooock,” Jim complained again. “Can’t you just like… logic him into letting me have one? Please?” He looked at Spock with those big ‘puppy dog eyes,’ as Spock had once heard Nyota term them.

“No, Jim,” Spock replied. “I will not help you do anything that could harm you or Bump.”

Jim crossed his arms and pouted. Spock put him in check.

§§§

“Dr. McCoy, may I speak with you?”

“Of course, Spock,” McCoy replied. “Come in.” As soon as they were settled in his office, he asked, “Jim came to you about the mollusk, didn’t he?”

“Affirmative,” Spock replied. “I see no reason for you to deny him this. Cravings are often considered the body’s way of informing the brain that it is in need of certain nutrients. For example, there have been cases of women who hate liver craving liver their entire pregnancy because their iron levels are low. Perhaps there is something in a Romulan mollusk that Jim subconsciously knows he needs.”

“There is nothing in one of those mollusks a baby needs for healthy development,” McCoy snapped.

“Once again, doctor, you show astounding forgetfulness,” Spock answered. “Romulan mollusks don’t contain anything a Human baby needs. However, although Jim doesn’t wish to know Bump’s species, it is certain that she is not entirely Human. Perhaps the alien part of her physiology does need something a Romulan mollusk is able to provide.”

McCoy glared at Spock. “I hate it when you logic me into stuff like this.” He grabbed his PADD and tapped it several times. Then he said, “There. I’ve approved him for three of those damn mollusks a week. The baby is half-Human. More than that could hurt the Human side.”

Spock nodded and stood. “Thank you, doctor.”

§§§

“Romulan mollusks?” Scott demanded. “What the hell do we need those for?”

“Bump is demanding them,” Spock answered. “I have convinced Dr. McCoy that the occasional mollusk will not be detrimental to the health of either the Captain or the child.”

“Aye,” Scott answered. “Don’t want to get between pregnant people and their cravings.   Learned that one the hard way when my mum was pregnant with me sister.”

Spock did not particularly care, but it wouldn’t do to insult Scott. Spock was capable of reprogramming the replicator himself, but Scott was more skilled in that area. Because Vulcans placed more emphasis on nutritional value than on flavor, many of their foods were unpalatable to Humans, and the flavor was often lost when Spock programmed the machine. “Thank you, Mr. Scott. Please notify me immediately when the adjustments have been made.”

“Aye aye, Mr. Spock.”

§§§

Spock replicated himself a bowl of Plomeek soup, a Romulan mollusk, and two cups of tea. He then crossed the dining hall to where Jim was pushing spinach around on his plate. He placed the mollusk and one of the teas in front of Jim.

Jim looked at him, his eyes bright and happy. Spock wished he could make Jim look at him like that every second of every day. It was illogical, but the thought remained. “I talked to the doctor, and he acknowledged that the occasional Romulan mollusk would likely be beneficial. You are limited to three mollusks a week, and there is only an approximate 2.3 percent chance that he will be willing to allow you more.”

“Thank you, Spock, thank you thank you thank you.”

Jim proceeded to eat the food with a relish that would have had most Vulcans pushing aside their food in disgust. Fortunately Spock had grown accustomed to the eating habits of Humans and was therefore unaffected by the display. Until Jim finished the mollusk and pushed the tray away. That was when he began eyeing Spock’s bowl of soup. “What’s that?” Jim asked.

“Plomeek soup,” Spock replied. “It is a bit bland. Most Humans do not care for it.”

“Can I try it?”

Spock paused. On Vulcan, sharing food was a gross breach of etiquette, worse than eating with one’s hands. After all, it was illogical not to order what you wanted for yourself. But there were no other Vulcans present and Spock had observed that tasting a friend’s food was a common Human practice. Nyota had tried it once, when they were still together, but his discomfort was so obvious that she never asked or offered again. “Yes,” he told Jim. “You may.” So his decision was driven in no small part by the fact that the act was most often shared by lovers.

Jim leaned across the table and opened his mouth. Spock carefully lifted a spoonful of soup to Jim’s lips. Jim slurped it up and sat back. Surprise was written across his face. “That’s really good,” he told Spock.

“It is adequate,” Spock acknowledged. As he took another bite—hyperaware of the fact that the spoon he was eating with had just touched Jim’s lips—he saw Jim’s eyes darting between Spock’s soup and the replicators. “Here,” Spock said, offering Jim the soup. “I will replicate another for myself.”

“Spock, you don’t need to do that,” the Captain objected, but he was no longer looking at Spock. He was looking at the soup as though he were a starving man.

“I insist,” Spock answered.

Spock would gladly starve to death himself if it would keep that look on Jim’s face.

Week XIII: A Daddy’s Prerogative

Jim was enjoying yet another bowl of plomeek soup, this time with Carol. She wrinkled up her nose when she saw it, but didn’t say anything. Her boys were insisting she eat insane amounts of spinach—and by ‘her boys,’ Jim didn’t mean just her sons. Bones was extremely insistent about it as well. Jim hadn’t figured out how he found time to worry about Jim as much as he did, considering his own girlfriend was pregnant, not to mention his duties as CMO.

“I’m probably going to have to beat at least one of them up someday,” Jim told her casually. “Or at the very least chase them around the ship with a baseball bat. Or better yet, one of Sulu’s swords.”

Carol raised her eyebrows. “And why is that?”

“Because they’ll only be a month older than Bump, if none of them get here too early or too late. Chances are, they’ll be the only kids on the ship. When they’re thirteen or fourteen, they’ll be curious and want to experiment. And my precious little Bump is going to be the only teenage girl around,” Jim said dramatically. “As her father, it will be my duty to scare away anyone who could steal her innocence.”

Carol was trying not to look amused. She was also failing. “What if Thing One and Thing Two are both gay? If Bump is a lesbian? If Things One and Two are gay and Bump is a lesbian?”

Jim shrugged. “I’m sure one of them will do something with her that will require a proper scaring. If not, it’s the uncle’s prerogative to scare the living shit out of his nephews just because he wants to. I don’t actually need a reason.”

Carol laughed and stood up. “I’m going to get another salad. Do you need more of that… whatever it is?”

“It’s plomeek soup,” Jim said yet again. “And no. Thank you though.”

After she walked away, he looked down at his belly and said, “You don’t mind, do you, baby girl? You don’t mind the fact that Daddy is perfectly willing to beat up Thing One and Thing Two to protect you? Of course you don’t. My little Bump is smart. She knows that Daddy knows what’s best for her. And you know I have experience with teenage boys. I was a teenage boy once. They’re no good, none of them. They’re all dirtbags. Don’t forget it.”

Week XIV: I Saw You

Nyota sat down across from Spock one day while he was eating. Normally he ate with the Captain, but Jim was otherwise occupied at the moment. He was helping Scotty with something in engineering. He ‘wanted to get his hands dirty before he was too big to get down on the floor without needing help to get back up.’ Spock had deemed it prudent not to mention the fact that working in engineering was likely dangerous considering his condition. He had seen how Dr. Marcus responded to that comment from Dr. McCoy. Spock was not about to make the same mistake, particularly since he didn’t have Dr. McCoy’s excuse that Dr. Marcus was carrying his children; Spock could not determine with any degree of certainty who the father of Jim’s child was, although it was most likely not his own.

“I saw you a couple weeks ago, you know,” Nyota said. “I’ve been watching you since then.”

“To what incident do you refer?” Spock asked. He was well aware Nyota had been watching him for the last two weeks, although he was unsure what had prompted it.

“I saw you feed Kirk with your own spoon,” she answered. “And I know how you feel about sharing food, even when you’re not sharing utensils.”

“I fail to see your point,” Spock answered.

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

Nyota rolled her eyes. “Spock. You’re in love with him. You remember why I broke up with you?”

“You informed me that I was ‘emotionally unavailable,’” Spock answered. “How is that relevant?”

Nyota looked a bit sad. “I thought it was because you’re a Vulcan. But it wasn’t. Now that I know, I can see it. You’ve been in love with Kirk for a long time. Probably since he beat your Kobayashi Maru.”

“He cheated.”

“But he beat the test, proving it was possible, if you use underhanded tactics,” Nyota answered. “And I think that turned you on.”

Spock didn’t answer. Her analysis of his feelings ‘hit far too close to home,’ as it were.

“It’s okay to love someone, Spock,” Nyota said softly. “I wish it could have been me, but I understand that love doesn’t work that way. You can’t force yourself to love someone and you can’t force someone to love you.”

“Exactly,” Spock said, his voice closer to revealing emotion than he was truly comfortable with. “I cannot force Jim to love me.”

“No,” Nyota answered. “But I think he already does.”

“He does not,” Spock replied. “He sleeps with anyone who will have him and is pregnant with another man’s child as a result.”

Nyota snorted. “I saw that too, Mr. Spock.”

Spock’s stomach filled with dread and nothing he did could stop it. “What do you believe you saw?”

“I saw him kiss you in that club,” she answered. “I saw him drag you to the back room and return looking nothing short of thoroughly shagged. That baby might be yours. And I never said he knows he’s in love with you, just that he is.”

“That is highly illogical,” Spock replied.

“Yeah, well, that’s Humans for you,” she replied. “Not much we do is driven by logic. You have to tell him.”

“There is less than a six percent chance the child is mine,” Spock answered.

“And if she is?” Nyota asked. “If Bump comes out with Vulcan ears and Vulcan eyebrows and green blood in her veins? What is Jim going to think? That he somehow slept with a Vulcan who just happened to be there even though almost all Vulcans have gone to New Vulcan to try and repopulate? Or that he slept with you? Which is the logical answer to him giving birth to a part-Vulcan child?”

Spock was quiet.

“Just think about it,” Nyota said. “Vulcans don’t lie, right? And you’ve been lying by omission for months now.”

This was true. But everyone knew that Vulcans lied by omission on a rather frequent basis, as it was the only way in which they were capable of lying.

“I shall tell Jim the truth,” Spock replied.

“Good,” Nyota said with a smile. “Now I have to go see a man about a dog.”

“You are allergic to canines,” Spock responded.

“It’s an expression, Spock,” Nyota said with fondness in her voice. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Week XV: Thumb-Sucking

“I’m getting fat,” Jim complained to Bones. “No one is ever going to want me after this. I’ll be all flabby and—and—”

“And it won’t matter if you’re attractive or not because between raising a kid and captaining a starship, you’re not going to have time for anything else.”

“You’re not really helping my self-esteem, here, Bones,” Jim said, crossing his arms over Bump.

“Yeah, well, I’m your doctor not your therapist,” Bones said gruffly. “Now the shirt needs to come off.”

As Jim stripped, he asked, “I still haven’t felt her kick. I should have felt something by now, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Bones answered. “It might be another few weeks before you feel anything. But it could also be as early as tomorrow. But all of her readings seem healthy. A couple of them are a bit different than normal, but nothing dramatic enough I’d worry about it.”

“Like what?”

“Her pulse is slightly higher than I’d expect,” Bones answered, “And her blood pressure is lower. But neither of them is at a dangerous level and she doesn’t seem to be in distress, so it’s likely perfectly natural for her.”

“What do you mean?” Jim asked. If there was something off about Bump’s vitals, he wanted to know what it was and why it was like that.

“She isn’t all Human, Jim,” Bones reminded him. “The pulse and blood pressure differences are most likely due to the alien part of her DNA. I’ll be monitoring those stats even closer than the others, but as long as they hold steady, I’m not going to do anything to fix it.”

Jim nodded. He pressed a hand against his belly. “Anything else I should know?”

“Nothing different than what I’ve told you every other time you’ve been in here,” Bones answered. “Do you have any other questions for me?”

“Can I see her?”

Bones rolled his eyes. Jim asked the same question every single week—and really, a weekly checkup seemed a bit much, even for Bones—and Bones silently mocked him every time. The one time Jim had pointed out that Bones was imaging his twins at least twice a week, Bones had said it was because twins were trickier and needed closer monitoring. Jim had retorted that his baby was part alien and that meant Bump needed closer monitoring than Things One and Two. After that, he’d been kicked out of med bay without seeing Bump, so he kept his comments to himself now.

Jim watched Bones plug a cord into the pregnant-person tricorder, the other end of which he attached to his PADD. He handed Jim the PADD and began scanning his stomach with the tricorder. Bump’s picture popped up and Jim looked at it in awe, just as he did every week. He couldn’t believe this little being was growing inside him.

She was still at the moment, which was unusual. Most times Jim was amazed he couldn’t feel anything, seeing how much she moved around. She got that from him, he was sure. If he couldn’t sit still, how could he expect Bump to? And because of that, he wasn’t sure if he was excited to feel her kick or dreading it. He knew that once it started, it wasn’t going to stop.

He looked at her head, her perfect little toes, and—“What’s she doing?” he asked, pointing to her face.

Bones looked at the PADD and grinned. “She’s sucking her thumb.”

Jim stared down at the screen. “They do that? Before they’re even born?”

“It’s pretty common, actually,” Bones answered. “Thing One has been sucking his thumb every single ultrasound I’ve given Carol.”

“That’s amazing,” Jim whispered.

“It really is,” Bones agreed.

Week XVI: Beatrice Ursula Margaret Pauline Kirk

Jim was even more energetic than usual. Spock knew from all the reading he had done that pregnancy was not easy on the carrier’s body. Many women—and the men in the male pregnancy study and the androgynous aliens who possessed both sets of reproductive organs—suffered uncomfortably through the whole thing. But he had also heard that many pregnant women—Humans in particular—got ‘glowy.’ He hadn’t heard the term before, but apparently Jim and Carol were both ‘glowy’ pregnant people. Jim in particular. Nyota claimed it was annoying how happy he was and couldn’t wait until he went into labor. “See if he’s humming then,” she muttered. The smile on her face belied her words.

“Spock,” Jim asked one day, “What do you think of the name Beatrice Ursula Margaret Pauline Kirk?”

“Well, the name Beatrice is thought to be from a Late Latin name meaning traveler, which would be appropriate as she is to be raised on the Enterprise. It was possibly altered to also incorporate the Latin word for blessed in the name,” Spock answered.

Before he could tell Jim the meanings of the other names he was considering for Bump, Jim said, “Spock, I was kidding. I know what the names mean. They’re in the baby name book I downloaded. I’m not naming her Beatrice Ursula Margaret Pauline. That’s too many syllables for such a tiny baby.”

“She will not be tiny forever,” Spock said. “And it is illogical to ask my opinion on a name you have no intention of using.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Beatrice Ursula Margaret Pauline,” he repeated. “Her initials would be B-U-M-P. BUMP Kirk, get it?”

Spock’s control was sorely tested by his sudden desire to roll his eyes. He managed to suppress it and raise only a single eyebrow. “I see. Do you have any names you really are considering?”

Jim fingered the fork lying in the remains of his salad. “A few,” he hedged. “Nothing I’m sure of.” He looked at Spock’s half-eaten bowl of soup. “Do you mind?” he asked, already reaching for the bowl.

It had become a regular occurrence, this eating of Spock’s food. And the way Jim thanked him and smiled every time made it worth it. It was strange, of course, how much of a taste for Vulcan food Jim had developed since the beginning of his pregnancy. Spock had determined that it was 97.8 percent likely it was because of the nutritional value of the food. The remaining 2.2 percent was that a quarter-Vulcan baby was demanding all-Vulcan food.

Spock tried to avoid that thought as much as possible. Thinking about it made him want too much.

Especially since he hadn’t yet told Jim that he might be Bump’s father. Nyota hadn’t said anything else about it, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

§§§

Spock downloaded two baby name books. One was a list of Human names, which he suspected Jim would prefer, another was a book of names from all over the Federation. He made notations in both volumes about the names he preferred, should Jim ask him for his opinion. And if Jim didn’t ask for his input, Spock had at least increased his knowledge about the meanings and origins of a large number of names throughout the Federation.

He liked the names Belle and Eirene, from the Human book, meaning beauty and peace respectively. From the other book, he had a preference for the Orion name Kaji, meaning happiness and the Vulcan name Tan’Ri-Gishu, or unexpected gift. He suspected Jim would not favor the last, if only because it would be ‘too many syllables for such a tiny baby.’

Week XVII: His Spock

Jim was tired. It had been a long week. Spock, McCoy, Scotty, and Chekov had all beamed down to an M-Class planet they’d been sure was uninhabited, and therefore perfect for colonization. As it turned out, it was inhabited. It was just that the inhabitants had no desire to explore the stars and wanted no contact with any alien civilizations. So instead of building starships, they had built cloaking devices that hid the fact that Humanoid life existed on the planet.

And their desire to avoid alien contact resulted in them being more than a little hostile when the landing party beamed down.

Chekov and Bones came back uninjured and Spock and Scotty only had minor wounds, but Jim finally understood why Spock always objected to both Jim and himself beaming down; sending the Captain and the First Officer into a possibly-hostile situation was stupid. And half his Senior Officers had been in that situation! What had he been thinking?

One thing was certain: Bones was confined to the ship until Thing One, Thing Two, and Bump were born. Jim was not going to risk his CMO when Bones was the only one he trusted to deliver his baby.

And Spock. He knew he couldn’t keep Spock onboard for the rest of his pregnancy, but Jim wished he could. Bump couldn’t be allowed to grow up without her Uncle Spock. It went against every picture Jim had built in his mind. In the beautiful life he pictured for Bump, she grew up on the Enterprise, raised by Jim and Spock and Bones. The rest of the crew was interchangeable, although he’d be sad to see some of them leave. Spock, though, he had to stay. Jim couldn’t imagine the Enterprise without him. It was a truly miraculous thing that Spock had no desire to be a Captain himself; it meant Jim might be able to keep him forever.

Strange, though, that he thought of it as keeping him, as though Spock were his, somehow. Sure, Spock was his but he could claim the same about Sulu; Spock was his First Officer in the same way Sulu was his Helmsman. But his feelings for Spock went deeper than that, made him think of Spock as his on a more personal level.

But he couldn’t keep Spock onboard all the time. Aside from the more political situations, where people sometimes got offended if met with anyone other than the Captain himself, Spock was also the Science Officer. His expertise would be needed on planet at some point or another.

He just told Bump to cross her fingers and hope nothing happened to Uncle Spock.

Week XVIII: Nesting

Jim was ‘nesting.’ Spock had already made the mistake of pointing this out to the Captain. Jim had snapped at him that he was not nesting. He was merely tidying up.

Spock had never seen tidying up that required the entire reorganization of quarters. Every piece of furniture in Jim’s cabin had been moved around several times. Jim had scrubbed every inch of all the surfaces by hand. His compulsion had flooded over into their shared bathroom.

Spock drew the line when he returned to his quarters one day to find Jim reorganizing his shelves. “Jim,” Spock said, “This behavior is highly inappropriate.”

“But you’re her Uncle Spock!” Jim exclaimed. “Your quarters have to be as safe as my own!”

“I agree, Captain,” Spock said. “However, as you are only four and a half months pregnant, it is likely at least twelve more weeks before you go into labor, as the average between the gestational period of Humans and the gestational period of Andorians—the possible parental species with the shortest gestational period—is twenty nine weeks. After Bump is born, it will be months before she is moving about on her own enough that such things could prove hazardous. All that considered, your behavior is, as I stated, highly inappropriate.”

Jim turned, crossed his arms over the bump now obvious beneath his gold command shirt. Spock knew Dr. McCoy had forced Jim to replicate a pair of pants with an expanding waistband, rather than continually ordering pants in bigger and bigger sizes. Spock had noted the change yesterday and Jim had burst into tears and refused to speak to him for three hours.

In fact, at Spock’s insistence that Jim’s nesting was uncalled for, Jim’s eyes because tearing up. But the Captain just cleared his throat and said, “Right. I’m—I’m sorry, Mr. Spock. I’ll stop.” Jim took a deep breath. “Right. Stopping this madness is a good idea. Don’t let me forget.”

“Jim,” Spock said, “I am sorry. I do not mind you rearranging my quarters to meet your safety requirements for Bump. I merely request you notify me before entering my cabin to make those adjustments.”

Jim hugged Spock. He released Spock almost immediately and coughed. “Sorry,” Jim said. “I know you don’t like being touched. I just—I really appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me. Especially since you’re pretending like you’re not actually doing anything. It makes me feel normal.”

Spock nodded. “You are welcome, Captain.”

Jim rolled his eyes and left Spock’s quarters.

Week XIX: Ash’ya-dukal

Jim was sitting in the Captain’s chair when it happened. It was just a light flutter, but it was there. Bump was kicking him. Jim couldn’t have stopped the bright grin that covered his face, even if he had wanted to. It was so light he might have missed it. He’d had similar sensations before, but it had turned out they were just gas. This time, though… somehow Jim just knew that this time it was Bump.

Sure enough, a much harder, much sharper jab hit him in the bladder and Jim leapt to his feet.

“Captain?” Spock asked.

“Bump! Bathroom! You have the conn!”

Jim dashed from the bridge before anyone could even respond. Bump was still kicking at his bladder and if he didn’t get to the head soon, he’d end up needing to change his slacks. And that would be humiliating beyond belief. “Calm down, calm down,” he muttered at her as he pushed his pants down and sat down on the toilet. “You’ve already made it so I can’t pee standing up, can you at least stop long enough that I won’t pee my pants?”

Once he finished in the bathroom, he returned to the bridge. None of his crew said anything. His friend, on the other hand, did feel the need to comment. “Are you feeling well, Jim?” Spock asked.

Jim’s heart thrummed at the question. Spock’s use of his name spoke volumes; Spock was worried about him—no matter how vehemently the Vulcan would deny such a Human emotion—and on a personal level, not just the concern any good First Officer would feel for his Captain. “I’m fine,” Jim answered. “Bump just decided that now was an appropriate time to kick me. She hadn’t done it before.” It had stopped, thankfully, but Jim suspected that now that Bump knew she was strong enough to get his attention, she’d be demanding it constantly.

“I see,” Spock answered. “She was applying pressure to your bladder?”

Jim put a hand to his face. God, but Spock’s inability to judge things that might cause embarrassment… it should not be as adorable as it was. “Yes, Spock, she was. She was kicking it repeatedly.”

“I see.”

“I think she’s under the impression that my insides are her own personal soccer field,” Jim said.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, but Jim had gotten good at reading that particular movement. It meant a number of things; this particular one was fond but exasperated amusement. Jim seemed to get that look more than any of the others.

Week XX: Black Lace

Jim smiled brightly for no apparent reason yet again, his hand flying to his swollen belly. “Is she kicking again, Captain?” Spock asked.

“Yeah,” Jim answered. “You want to feel?”

Spock nodded mutely and watched as Jim pulled up his shirt, warning Spock, “I’m ugly, though, all stretched out and fat.” He poked at the taut skin of his abdomen. “You better be perfectly healthy since I’m giving up my body for this.”

Spock swallowed, willing the blood vessels in his penis to constrict and prevent it from growing erect. He was successful, although it was a close thing. It didn’t make sense that he should be turned on by Jim. He did not currently conform to what people typically considered beautiful, and yet his form was incredibly appealing to Spock.

That was when Jim grabbed Spock’s hands and placed them on his abdomen. Spock swallowed as he felt the baby’s foot pressed against his hand. Very slowly, he knelt and leaned in so that he could press his ear against Jim’s belly. “Spock?”

Spock didn’t answer, concentrating hard. He could just barely make out Bump’s rapid heartbeat. He closed his eyes and for a long moment, simply listened. What he wouldn’t give to listen to this forever, to never know for sure that the child was not his. To pretend forever that the reason the child’s heartbeat was more rapid than it should be was that she was part-Vulcan. Spock had never wished for anything more in his life.

When he finally pulled away, he left his hands on the tight skin, still feeling that tiny foot press against his palm.

He looked up at Jim. Jim was smiling, but it was a smile Spock had never seen before. Spock wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it. The closest look he could come up with was the smile Jim gave his belly whenever he thought no one was looking, but there was something else there too. Something that warmed Spock from the inside out.

“Do you want kids, Spock?” Jim asked softly.

Spock had to choose his words carefully in order to avoid lying. “I did not desire children. In the past, my position on the Enterprise was enough. But now I find I desire something more. I find the thought of a child pleasing.” He left out the fact that he only wanted children if they could be with Jim.

§§§

After meditating that night, Spock went to the bathroom to perform his evening ablutions. “Lights, seventy percent,” he ordered.

When they came on, he saw that he was not alone. Jim had evidently forgotten to order the doors locked. He was sitting on the toilet, apparently urinating, his pants around his ankles. But instead of the briefs or boxers Jim typically wore, he appeared to be wearing panties. Spock’s eyes fixed on them and he couldn’t seem to tear them away.

They seemed to be made of some silky material, black with lace trim. Spock swallowed.

Jim stood and frantically tucked himself into the underwear before pulling his pajama pants over them. Spock finally managed to look up at Jim. His Captain’s face was bright red.

“Can we just pretend this never happened?” Jim begged. “Can we pretend that I didn’t leave the bathroom door unlocked and that you didn’t see anything?”

Spock opened his mouth to say that that was acceptable, but “Panties?” was what came out instead.

Jim’s flush spread to his ears and neck and he said, “Yes. I’m sore down there, and these are the only kind of underwear I can find that don’t chafe. Do you have a problem with that?”

Spock knew Jim was attempting to cover his embarrassment with belligerence but he didn’t comment on it. He simply said, “Not at all, Captain.”

“Good,” Jim said, turning his back on Spock to wash his hands.

Spock’s eyes were drawn to Jim’s round buttocks. Spock vividly remembered taking that flesh in his hands, tasting it, running his tongue along the crease and to Jim’s tight entrance. And now he knew that that skin was being caressed by silk panties on a daily basis. Spock didn’t know how to process the information. “I must meditate,” he informed Jim before turning and leaving the bathroom.

In the end, meditation did little to help Spock’s peace of mind.

Week XXI: Just My Hand

“Boooooones,” Jim complained as he sat on the biobed. “This can’t possibly be normal. I feel like I’m horny all the time.”

“Trust me,” Bones answered, “It’s not a problem. Your hormone levels are changing rapidly, and the increase in those is wreaking havoc on your body. Carol is suffering from it too.”

“Yeah, well, at least she has someone to help her out,” Jim griped. “I have my hand. My hand, Bones, that’s it! Do you know how inadequate two fingers are when what I really want is to be fucked good and hard?”

Bones pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jim, they make toys for situations like this. I can also think of several people on this ship who would be more than willing to help you out. One person in particular.”

“Who?” Jim asked. He didn’t typically sleep with his crew; it would bring up all sorts of issues. But at the moment, he didn’t care. He needed to be fucked.

Bones grimaced. “The hobgoblin.”

“Spock?” Jim asked. “No. He’s straight.”

“Jim, he’s been staring at you like he wants to eat you for the last six months. The more pregnant you get, the more obvious he gets,” Bones answered. “If you were to ask Spock to fuck you, I think he’d tell you no, he’s waiting till marriage. And then he’d ask you to marry him.”

Jim stared at Bones. “That can’t be right. Spock doesn’t—he’s straight—I mean, him and Uhura—right?”

“You like men and women,” Bones retorted. “Couldn’t Spock? And you know that he and Uhura have been over for a year now.”

“But—”

“No. I’m your doctor, not your relationship counselor,” Bones interrupted. “I’m also your friend, the one you promised you’d never tell any details of your sex life to, since I don’t want to hear it. You’re hormonal and that’s why you’re turned on all the time. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. If you do find someone other than your right hand to have sex with, be careful. The sex can’t be rough.”

“But—”

“Jim, if you get too rough, it could hurt Bump or send you into premature labor. I’d tell you to use protection, but we’re kind of past that at this point, and I know you’re up to date on your preventative hypos. Now, I’m assuming you want to see her?”

Jim nodded. Bones began the process of scanning Bump so Jim could see her. She was sucking her thumb again, her feet all the way up by her ears, explaining why she was able to kick his bladder so easily. She was holding one of her ears with her left hand. “She’s perfect,” Jim whispered.

When they were finished, Bones watched as Jim did up his pants and then asked, “Jim, why are you wearing panties?”

Jim groaned and buried his face in his hands. At this rate, the entire ship was going to find out.

Week XXII: Supplements

They only had a few hours shore-leave this time, but it was on a starbase, so Spock had no qualms about letting Jim go off on his own. When they met at the transporter room to beam back aboard, however, Jim was carrying a large box wrapped in brown paper. Spock raised an eyebrow but, since it was not his business, did not say anything.

Jim answered his unasked question. “Supplemental hypos,” he explained.

“I was under the impression that Dr. McCoy was capable of providing you with everything you needed,” Spock answered.

“He is,” Jim replied. “I don’t really need this, I just want it. You know how in some species, the male feeds the children?”

“Such as the Kryllitian Sea Leopard,” Spock replied.

“Right,” Jim answered. “Well, there was that disease on Gamma VI that only affected the women, right? And they had that religious thing that made it so the children had to breastfeed until the age of at least two. Well, they developed this supplement so that the men could breastfeed the children if the mother died or was too ill or whatever. And since spontaneous male lactation has been observed in Humans, Bones said it would be okay for me to try this.”

Spock stared at Jim. “You wish to breastfeed Bump?”

“Yeah,” Jim answered. “It’s supposed to be more nutritious, you know? Plus it’s supposed to help the baby and the person feeding them bond. Since she won’t have another parent, I want her to have as strong a bond as possible with me.”

Spock was close to saying that he would be her other parent; he didn’t even care if the child was someone else’s. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that Jim had never shown any attraction to him in the past, drunken intercourse excepted. “I am not familiar enough with the supplements to form an opinion,” Spock answered, “Although it has been shown that breastmilk is better than formula for almost all species of children.” Orions seemed to be the exception, and they responded to formula just as well as to breastmilk. Barring a mother’s physical inability to do so, Vulcans were always breastfed, as ensuring the wellbeing of one’s offspring in any way possible was the most logical course of action.

“Exactly,” Jim replied. “So that’s what I’m doing. And I mean, my nipples are hypersensitive anyway. Might as well make them sensitive for a reason.”

Spock nodded, although now his mind had fixated on a possibility he was uncomfortable with. “I need to mastur—meditate,” he told Jim, fleeing before Jim could comment on his Freudian slip.

When he arrived in his room, it quickly became clear that meditation was useless. The only thing he could think of was lacy black panties and oversensitive nipples. No matter how hard he tried to clear his mind and achieve a state of tranquility, all he could picture was Jim lying on his bed in nothing but those black panties letting Spock lick his nipples.

Spock eventually gave into the impulse to masturbate. It was an illogical practice, as it had no chance of leading to conception, but it would relieve the stress he was feeling. He still felt slightly guilty about having intercourse with Jim while Jim was intoxicated, so he determined that that guilt could not be made worse by fantasizing about Jim while he touched himself.

He thought about Jim’s panties. He fantasized about sucking on Jim’s sensitive nipples and kneading the small breasts that would form because of the supplements. He pictured licking his way all across Jim’s huge belly, down past his cock and to his entrance. He pretended that Bump was actually his and that they could be a real family. He could imagine it all so clearly and it resulted in a hand covered in his own semen.

In spite of the release, he was still unable to mediate.

Week XXIII: Memory in a Dream

“Oh,” Jim grunted as Spock’s tongue pierced him. He never would have expected the Vulcan to do something like that. But damn it felt good. Jim lost himself in the feel of it all. The buzz from the alcohol—well, truthfully, a hell of a lot more than a buzz, but who was keeping track? Spock’s tongue spreading him open. The primal bass pumping through the walls of the alien club into the back room, where Spock had him pinned against the wall, strong hands holding Jim’s hips in place. The smell of sex that filled the entire room, the grunts of other people barely audible over the music.

And then a lubricated finger slid in beside Spock’s tongue, dancing against his prostate and sending sparks of pleasure through Jim’s veins. “Now, Spock, do it now.”

“As you wish,” Spock replied, his voice deep and rough. Jim felt him rise from the ground and then the Vulcan’s cock was pushing at his slick entrance. Jim pushed back, and Spock’s cock slid into him completely. Jim groaned. It had been a long time since he’d been fucked by anyone this big. When his Vulcan was fully inside, Spock kissed the back of his neck. “Acceptable?”

“Oh god, yes,” Jim panted. “Fuck me. Please, Spock, fuck me.”

The Vulcan pounded into him so hard he almost worried he wouldn’t be able to sit the next morning. Then Spock hit his prostate and reached around to stroke his cock, and Jim really didn’t give a fuck about anything else.

He came when Spock moaned, “Jim,” in his ear.

Jim startled awaked to find his sheets were sticky. He groaned. What the hell was that? He had dreamed about Spock fucking him. That was just… not cool.

As he showered, he tried to reason it out. There had to be a logical explanation for this.

Of course. Jim was horny and had been having weird dreams for several months—it was the pregnancy, Bones told him—and Bones had mentioned that Jim could have sex with Spock. That’s all it was. Nothing else. So what if Spock was attractive. The dream didn’t mean anything.

What scared him was how vivid it had been. More like a memory than a dream.

Week XXIV: Family Is Sacred to Us

Spock could only be thankful that he had talked Jim out of coming down to this planet. Jim had been getting restless lately and had wanted to beam down with Spock. That would have been disastrous. The rest of the landing party was dead and Spock had been captured.

Spock was being held by two guards, two others holding phaser-like weapons on him.

Their leader was contacting the Enterprise. “Captain Kirk,” he said. “We have Commander Spock. Leave immediately.”

“Not without Spock,” Jim snarled.

“You are not the one with hostage, Captain,” the man said.

Jim stood up in anger and the alien leader stepped away from the screen, as though afraid Jim would reach through and strangle him. Then he said, “I was unaware the men of your planets were the ones who carried your young.”

Jim looked down at his belly. “Well, not all of us do,” he said. “But how is that relevant?”

“Family is held sacred by our people, Captain,” the leader said. “Will you introduce me to your mate? I trust he is onboard your ship?”

Spock closed his eyes. A hostile people who held family sacred were asking to meet the father of Jim’s child—a man whose identity Jim couldn’t possibly know. Spock feared learning that the child of a starship Captain was illegitimate would have disastrous consequences.

“No,” Jim ground out. “He is not on my ship because you are currently holding him captive. Release Spock and I will consider not telling the Federation of your hostile acts against a Starfleet officer!”

The alien leader didn’t even look back as he waved a hand at the guards, who immediately released Spock. The other two lowered their weapons.

“Our apologies, Captain,” the man said. “You must understand, we don’t like visitors.”

“Yes, we gathered that,” Jim answered. “I have one question before we beam Spock aboard and leave orbit. Why does it make such a difference that he’s my mate?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Captain?” the alien answered. “Wars have been fought over the beauty of a woman. Is the love of one’s mate not stronger than mere beauty? We are strong, but we could not match your Federation, should you bring its full force down upon us. We determined that you would not do that for an officer; he would be given posthumous honors having died in the line of duty. A lover and the sire of your child, however, that is worth starting a war over.”

“Indeed,” Jim said. “In deference to your wishes, I shall inform Starfleet of your position on the Federation and any dealings with it. As you are in a part of the galaxy largely controlled by the Federation, you should not be troubled by Romulans or Klingons either. If you ever reconsider your position, you need only call.”

The alien nodded. “I do hope you will visit, Captain, after your child is born. I would very much like to meet it.”

“Spock and I shall consider it,” Jim said. “Enterprise out.”

The screen went blank and seconds later Spock felt himself being transported aboard. Just as he was stepping off the transport pad, Jim burst into the room. He nearly fell into Spock’s arms, sobbing.

Scott stared for a moment and then said, “I’ll just be on the bridge, if anyone needs me,” and left them alone, for which Spock was grateful.

Spock stroked Jim’s hair and asked, “Why did you lie?”

“Because Bones is going to have two kids of his own. He’ll treat them different than he’ll treat Bump, so he can only be Uncle Bonesy. Just an uncle, Spock. But you. You’re going to be the closest thing she ever has to another parent and I—I just—” Jim broke off, crying too hard to continue.

Spock didn’t answer, just held Jim close. Bump’s other parent. If that was how Jim viewed him, Spock could not say he was bothered by it.

Week XXV: She’s Too Little

Jim was eating with Carol, something that didn’t happen nearly as often as they’d like. It was mostly Carol’s fault. Jim’s Vulcan food had little flavor and even less of a smell. Carol’s endless carousel of bacon and sardines, on the other hand, smelled vile and turned Jim’s stomach.

Today they were both eating salads. “I am so glad you’re fatter than me,” Jim told her.

She pointed her fork at him. “Hey. Don’t call me fat. I’m a month further along than you and I’m having twins.”

“You’re fatter.”

“I’ll deliver first, and probably earlier than you,” Carol said. “Then who’s going to be the fat one, hm? And you’re going to be a hell of a lot fatter than me. I won’t be fat at all and you’ll still be the size of the house.”

“Are you guys really having this conversation again?” Sulu asked as he sat down next to Jim. “How many times do we have to stroke your egos? Carol, Jim, you are not fat. Thing One, Thing Two, and Thing Bump are the fat ones.”

Jim gasped and pressed his hands to the sides of his belly, covering Bump’s ears. “Don’t say things like that, Sulu! You’ll give her some sort of complex and she’ll never believe she’s perfect!” After a second, he added, “And her name is Bump, not Thing Bump.”

Sulu rolled his eyes and picked up his cheeseburger. “Yeah, well you can’t any stand any type of meat other than fish without throwing up.”

Carol grinned and stuck her tongue out at Jim. Jim just grimaced. As much as he loved her, Bump was disrupting his eating habits. He’d basically become a vegetarian—Romulan mollusks being the only exception—and the mere thought of chocolate made him want to throw up. “I hate you all,” Jim said. “Can tormenting your very pregnant Captain be considered mutiny?”

“No, Captain, it cannot,” Spock said, sitting down across from Sulu with a plateful of vegetables almost identical to Jim’s own. If Jim didn’t know better, he’d swear he was cooking up a Vulcan.

“Spock, leave,” Jim ordered.

Sulu and Carol gave him confused looks. Spock just raised an eyebrow, but there was hurt in his very Human brown eyes. “For what reason, Jim?”

“I really want a hamburger but Bump seems to have picked up your eating habits through osmosis or something,” Jim told Spock.

“That is highly illogical,” Spock said. Slowly he added, “Meaning you were teasing me.”

“Yes, Spock,” Jim answered, “I was—oh god!”

“Jim?” all three of them said.

“No,” Jim objected. “It’s too soon. Even if she’s half-Andorian it’s too early!”

“Jim,” Spock said, voice calm and reassuring, “Did you experience a contraction?”

“Yes,” Jim replied. He looked down at Bump. “Stay in there. You’re not allowed to come out ye—et. Fuck!”

“Are you positive these are not just Braxton Hicks contractions?” Spock asked. “False labor is common, particularly among Humans, and according to the study, every single man experienced it.”

“I’m fucking certain,” Jim growled. “I’ve had Braxton Hicks already. Just slight twinges in my lower back. This really fucking—oh god, Bump, stop, you’re too little!”

“He needs to go to med bay,” Sulu said, standing up. He and Spock helped Jim up as Carol hauled herself to her feet.

“You know,” Carol joked as they got on the turbolift, “When I said I’d probably deliver before you, you weren’t supposed to take it as a challenge.”

“Is now really the time to be making jokes, Dr. Marcus?” Spock asked.

“No, it helps,” Jim replied. “Lightens the mood.”

When Sulu and Spock all but carried Jim into sickbay, Bones was by his side in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

“Jim has been experiencing contractions,” Spock announced.

Bones frowned and gestured to a biobed. Once Jim had been deposited there, Bones scanned him with a tricorder. And promptly rolled his eyes. “We’ve been over this, Jim. Braxton Hicks.”

“I’ve had those,” Jim argued. “They’re uncomfortable, but they don’t hurt.”

“They can, though, I told you that, remember?” Bones asked. “That’s all this is. Bump is fine and she’s not trying to get out yet. Just lay there and let it pass.”

“You’re a doctor,” Jim said. “Aren’t you supposed to do something?”

“I did do something,” Bones answered. “I explained that this is nothing to worry about and that you need to wait it out.”

“Fuck you too,” Jim muttered. “I hope Spock melds with Carol while she’s in labor and passes the pain on to you.”

Bones just raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound?”

Jim glared. Spock said, “I believe your bedside manner leaves something to be desired, Doctor.”

Good old Spock, always there when Jim needed him. It made him feel better about last week’s confession, that he thought of Spock as Bump’s other parent. “See?” Jim said. “Even Spock knows you should be doing something more.”

Bones walked away, muttering about ‘Captains and hobgoblins.’ Sulu and Jim laughed, Spock raised an eyebrow, and Carol pointed after her boyfriend and said, “I’ve got two of those inside me right now. You all better watch out.”

And if that wasn’t a mood killer, Jim’s next fake contraction certainly was.

Week XXVI: Logical Sequence of Events

1.54 months ago, Spock’s chess games with Jim had increased in number. It seemed to be part of a sequence of events that began in Jim’s fifth week of pregnancy. When they first discovered Jim’s pregnancy, Dr. McCoy had restricted Jim’s exercising to cardio and aerobics, no practice combat and no strength training. As the pregnancy progressed, Jim had become increasingly uncomfortable working out and had reduced the amount of time he spent in the gym accordingly, no matter how reluctant he was to do so. 2.2 months ago, he had finally ended all attempts at exercise, aside from a short, daily speed-walk on the treadmill. He had increased his work hours to fill the time he would typically spend in the gym. 1.54 months ago, Dr. McCoy had determined that, even though Jim wasn’t exercising, he was working himself too hard and had restricted Jim’s duties to alpha shift and emergencies. So Jim had been forced to find other activities to fill his time.

His favorite was chess with Spock, although he did seem to enjoy following Spock around the science lab. At least until Spock gained possession of some plants that emitted a gas that could have harmful effects on Bump, after which Spock restricted his access to the labs.

As they played, they often talked, getting to know each other better. They had been sharing these games since the beginning of the five-year mission, but it wasn’t until now that Jim had begun to open up on some of the more painful aspects of his past. For example, it was only last week—the same night of the false labor incident, in fact—that Jim had revealed the fear that he would be a terrible father. When Spock had asked why, it had led to the explanation of Jim’s own parental role models—a dead father, a drunk and absent mother, and an abusive, drunken stepfather.

Tonight, when Spock used his queen to take a pawn, Jim blurted out, “I was on Tarsus.”

Spock nodded. “I am aware.”

Jim’s eyes flashed up. “How? I never even told Bones.”

“I am sure Dr. McCoy is aware of it as well,” Spock said. “It was in your academic file, which I read before the academic dishonesty hearing. Due to the long-term effects often caused by malnourishment as a child, there is an 87.8 percent chance it is also in your medical file.”

“Oh.” Jim looked down. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

“I determined that it was not my place,” Spock replied. He paused. He did not know how Jim would react to what he was going to say next, particularly considering his erratic emotions due to the pregnancy. “After getting to know you, I came to understand my error in saying your father had died due to a no-win scenario. Based on your personality, I concluded that you believed saving the rest of the people on the Kelvin to be a win, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. Having come to this conclusion, I determined it best to allow you to bring up any of the more painful aspects of your past,, rather than anger you by saying the wrong thing.”

Jim began crying. Spock couldn’t understand. He had thought his acknowledgment of George Kirk’s accomplishments, as well as his acknowledgment that Jim was perhaps correct in his belief of a no-win scenario, would make Jim happy. He had no desire to make Jim cry. It hurt to see Jim’s tears. “Jim, what did I say wrong?”

Jim waved a hand vaguely and said, “Nothing. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Jim laughed, although there were still tears trickling down his cheeks. “I’m pregnant. Hormones… I’m happy, Spock. It means a lot that you think that. It means a lot that you’d let me bring the harder things up.”

“I see,” Spock said. Carefully he asked, “Did you wish to talk about Tarsus IV or merely inform me of your presence there?”

Jim shrugged and wiped away a tear. “I’m not sure. I just wanted you to know, I think. Wanted you to know at least part of the reason I’m so fucked up.”

“I do not believe you are ‘fucked up,’ Jim,” Spock answered. “And I do not like it when you refer to yourself in such a manner.”

Jim chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. While we’re on the subject of things we try to avoid talking about, I want to tell you… I’m glad it was you there, when I was dying. I mean, Bones or Scotty would have been okay, but as I was doing it, all I could think was that I wished I could see you one last time. Apologize and tell you that you’re my best friend. And even after I came back to life, I never told you that. So I’m telling you now. Spock, you are my best friend.”

Spock nodded. Then he said, “You are mine, Jim. I had not felt such anger since my peers called my mother a whore, but that was when I had little emotional control. In both instances, I nearly beat the responsible party to death.” He swallowed. “I stopped myself from killing my peer, but being told that Khan’s blood could save you was the only thing that could have stopped me killing him.”

Jim nodded slowly. “I killed people on Tarsus. For food. Because of how they were treating the little kids, like they were expendable.” Jim looked down. “There wasn’t a lot I didn’t do for food.”

Spock didn’t say anything. “What you did on Tarsus IV is not who you are. You did what you had to in order to survive.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Was it worth it?”

“Do not ever suggest that again,” Spock growled. He could not imagine a world in which James Tiberius Kirk had died on Tarsus IV. Spock would not be the man he was today if not for Jim’s presence in his life.

Jim didn’t answer. Suddenly he stood. “I’m sorry.”

Spock stood and walked around the table. “For what?”

“For the things I said about your mother,” Jim answered. “I know you loved her. I know you still love her.”

“I understand why you said those things,” Spock replied. “I was emotionally compromised and my command of the Enterprise was not the wisest decision. I forgave you a short time later.”

Jim kissed him. Spock was given no warning, it lasted perhaps one second, and then Jim pulled back, eyes wide. “Spock—I don’t know what—I’m super horny lately because of the hormones and I just—you’re just—I have to go.”

Jim fled through their bathroom.

Spock could only stand there, frozen in place, wondering what had just happened.

§§§

The next few days were difficult. Jim was avoiding him. He no longer waited for Spock on the bridge at the end of alpha shift, no longer hovered outside the science labs to talk to Spock through the door, no longer sought him out for chess matches. Jim only spoke to him on the bridge in a professional manner, barely acknowledged his presence when they met off-duty, and made sure they were never alone.

It was driving Spock crazy.

“Nyota, may I speak with you?” he asked one day.

“Sure,” she answered. “What do you need?”

He glanced around for a moment and then said, “Jim kissed me.”

“That’s great!”

“No. He is now avoiding me,” Spock said.

“Oh,” Nyota replied. “How did you respond to the kiss?”

“I did not respond at all,” Spock replied. “He did not give me a chance. And now he is not giving me a chance to speak with him about it.”

“What led up to it?”

“We were discussing matters that are more personal that I am comfortable sharing,” Spock replied. When Nyota raised her eyebrows, he added, “They were personal on Jim’s side, not my own. They are matters that are not mine to share.”

“Oh. So he basically laid himself bare, kissed you, and ran off?”

“Essentially.”

“He made himself vulnerable, Spock,” Nyota said, as though nothing were more obvious. “And then he did something he thinks was unwelcome. You need to get him alone, no matter what it takes, and talk to him. And if he won’t listen, just kiss him again.”

“That is… unorthodox.”

“Yeah, well, every last thing about James Kirk is unorthodox,” Nyota replied.

Spock supposed that, although the statement was an obvious hyperbole, the sentiment was accurate.

Week XXVII: Sealed with a Kiss

Jim was shocked when Spock showed up halfway through Jim’s weekly checkup. “I have to go,” he immediately said.

“No,” Bones said. “You are going to stay right there until I say you can go.”

“Dr. McCoy,” Spock said. “I need to speak to Jim alone.”

“Of course. Just don’t upset him, you understand, hobgoblin?”

“Perfectly,” Spock answered.

Jim could only stare. Bones was conspiring against him. Conspiring against him with Spock. With Spock, whom Jim had more or less sexually assaulted just last week. But the weirdest part was that Bones and Spock were getting along.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Then I shall do the talking,” Spock said. “You kissed me. This occurred a very short time after making yourself vulnerable. I understand this to mean one of two things. Either you kissed me due to an emotionally compromised state and needed the contact, or the vulnerability led you to act on an impulse you would normally repress. In the event that it is the first, please disregard everything I am about to say.

“In the event that it is the second, I can only conclude that you are physically attracted to me. I find you aesthetically pleasing as well. I also find you intellectually and emotionally stimulating. If you are amenable, I would like to enter into a monogamous romantic and sexual relationship with you.”

Jim stared. He had to have heard that wrong. Because there was no way Spock had actually said what Jim thought he’d heard. “What?”

“If you are amenable, I would like to enter into a monogamous romantic and sexual relationship with you,” Spock repeated.

Okay, so he had heard right. “I thought you were straight.” Because that’s what Jim wanted to say when a hot guy wanted him to be his boyfriend.

“Being attracted to a member of the same sex was illogical in the past, as it could not produce offspring,” Spock acknowledged. “However as there have been a great many technological advancements that allow two men or two women to have a child together, or even have a male such as yourself carry the child, it is—”

“Are you saying your sexuality is determined by logic?” Jim asked.

“Vulcans do not define sexuality. We choose our mates based on mental compatibility. Such compatibility often results in a sexual attraction after a period of time.”

Only Vulcans. “So you’re saying what? My mind turns you on?”

“No. I am saying I believe our minds are compatible. And having come to that conclusion, I began to find your physical form incredibly appealing. I was not displeased when you kissed me,” Spock said.

“You found me attractive before or is this some weird pregnancy kink?” Jim asked.

The tips of Spock’s ears flushed green. “Both,” he said softly. “I found your figure pleasing before you were pregnant. I find you no less aesthetically pleasing now than I did then.”

Jim didn’t know how to process that information. Spock thought he was attractive. His gorgeous, emotionless, Vulcan first officer thought he was attractive. Spock even thought he was attractive when he was fat and pregnant.

“I’ve never had a real relationship before,” Jim said. “But I would try. For you.”

“That is acceptable,” Spock said. “I will now leave you to finish your appointment with Dr. McCoy.” He glanced around, leaned in to give Jim an extremely brief kiss, and left.

Jim was left with the feeling that he had sealed the strangest contact ever with a kiss.

“Jim?” Bones asked. “Are you alright?”

“Spock and I are dating,” Jim answered, still feeling slightly dazed. “I think. ‘A monogamous romantic and sexual relationship’ is Vulcan for ‘dating,’ right?”

“Oh my god,” Bones muttered. “That’s what he wanted? I helped the hobgoblin start dating you?”

“Hey, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”

Week XXVIII: Monogamous, Romantic, Sexual

Jim was speaking to Spock again. The fact that he had also agreed to attempt a relationship was also gratifying. Jim had eaten with Spock every meal since their discussion. This involved much stealing of Spock’s food, but Spock didn’t mind. Jim was with him and Jim was his boyfriend. It was a word that had no Vulcan translation, as the concept did not exist, yet Spock found he was happy with the arrangement. He was Jim’s boyfriend.

One night, Jim knocked on the door to Spock’s room, the one that led to the bathroom. “Enter,” Spock answered.

Jim came in shirtless, his large belly on display. It was easy to tell he was self-conscious. “Still think I’m attractive?”

“Affirmative,” Spock answered, looking over every inch of Jim’s skin. “Come here.”

Jim walked over to him slowly and Spock maneuvered him so that he was straddling Spock’s lap, Bump in between them. “You wished to ask me something?”

Jim nodded. “You said you wanted to be in a romantic and sexual relationship, but we never specified how long it will be before the sexual bit starts.”

“I do not understand your meaning,” Spock answered.

“I just—did you want to go slow?”

“I see no reason to go slow,” Spock replied. “You are obviously not a virgin and neither am I.”

Jim stared. “You aren’t?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I have had intercourse with two people.”

“Oh,” Jim said. “Well… okay. Anyway, you were saying?”

“As neither of us is a virgin, there is no pressure to make it feel ‘special,’ as Humans often wish,” Spock answered. “We are attracted to one another and are in a relationship. To have intercourse is logical.”

Jim tucked his face into the crook of Spock’s neck. “I don’t know if it’s just that I’m super horny because I’m pregnant or if I’m really just that attracted to you, but saying that sex is logical should not be sexy.”

“Am I to understand you do find that statement arousing?”

“Oh god,” Jim mumbled into his neck. “I’m turned on, you’re my boyfriend, and we’re not taking this slow. I think it’s logical to have sex right now.”

“I would be amenable to that,” Spock agreed. He was gratified when Jim began kissing him.

“God,” Jim moaned. “God you feel good.”

Spock didn’t reply, simply kissed Jim as best as he could. How he loved this man.

They migrated to Spock’s bed, losing Spock’s shirt, undershirt, and shoes and Jim’s pants on the way. Spock kept kissing Jim as he carefully laid Jim back on his bed. Then he stepped back, staring down at his Captain, his boyfriend. Jim’s belly came down over the elastic of a pair of bright red panties. He was spread across Spock’s bed looking like every fantasy Spock had had for the last two months.

Spock crawled over him and kissed him. “Pants,” Jim said. “Take off your pants.”

Spock shimmied out of his pants and kicked off his underwear for good measure. When he laid back down on Jim, he could feel Jim’s erection pressing against his hip through the silky underwear. He pressed his lips to Jim’s, slipping his tongue into Jim’s mouth. He could feel Jim’s lust and affection through the skin-on-skin contact. Jim’s feelings only drove Spock’s own higher.

He moved his lips away from Jim’s, kissed along the column of his neck, sucked bruises onto the skin of his chest. When he reached Jim’s belly, he caressed it, kissing it, trying to show Jim how attractive Spock found him. He could feel the baby kick beneath his hands. He loved this baby. His or not, it didn’t matter. He loved this baby.

He kissed all over the tight skin before moving lower to mouth at the fabric covering Jim’s erection. Jim twisted beneath his hands, pressing his hips up against Spock’s face. Spock mouthed at the fabric until it was soaked through. Then he slowly, slowly, slowly pulled the lace panties over Jim’s hips and down his legs. Finally he had access to Jim’s penis. He leaned in and licked the head of Jim’s erection.

Jim whimpered and arched his back. “Spock,” he whispered.

Spock took that as a sign that he should proceed with fellating Jim and began sucking, mindful of his teeth. He had never done this before, but he did his best to imitate the acts Nyota had performed on him that he had found pleasing. He took note of the particular flicks of his tongue Jim seemed to respond to the most.

After a short time, he pulled away and guided Jim into rolling over onto his hands and knees. He then nudged Jim’s knees apart and leaned in to lick all the way from Jim’s testicles across his hole to the base of his spine. Jim shivered, so Spock did it again. And again. And again.

Jim whined with need and Spock took that to mean he should continue, so he began focusing his attention on Jim’s hole. Licking it over and over, tasting Jim, loving the way those tight muscles fluttered beneath his tongue.

“Please,” Jim croaked out. “I don’t care what you do, Spock, just please, stop teasing.”

So Spock took Jim’s ass in his hands, spreading him apart even further, and buried his face between them. He wiggled his tongue until Jim’s muscles gave way. He repeated the process before sucking on Jim’s muscles. Jim’s arms gave way and he went down to his elbows, resting his head on his forearms. Spock used his teeth just a bit, reaching around to stroke Jim’s cock as he worked his tongue in and out of Jim’s entrance.

“Oh god, Spock, I’m—” Spock’s hand was covered in warm ejaculate as Jim’s muscles fluttered frantically beneath his tongue.

He pulled away and Jim rolled over. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” Jim demanded. “I have never come just from someone rimming me before.”

“You are the only one I have ever performed that act upon,” Spock replied. If this wasn’t the first time he had rimmed Jim, well… Jim didn’t need to know that.

“Fuck,” Jim swore. “I don’t want to know how I’m going to respond when you’ve actually had some practice.” He looked at Spock. “Assuming you want to do it again.”

“I would be amenable to that,” Spock said.

“Spock,” Jim said. “Come kiss me.”

Spock did, gasping when Jim grasped his erection. Jim stroked him until he came, covering Jim’s hand with his semen. Spock could only stare as Jim brought the hand to his mouth and sucked his fingers clean one by one. When Jim had finished, he leaned in and kissed Spock. Spock could taste himself and Jim, mixed up together. It was wonderful.

After what felt like far too short a time making out, Jim pulled away, only to tuck himself close to Spock. He almost immediately began snoring. Spock wanted to get up and get a cloth to wipe them clean with, but Jim was lying on his arm. So he stayed in place, cuddling Jim, feeling Jim’s emotions through his skin. It was peaceful.

The last thing Spock was aware of before he fell asleep was the bright red lace on the floor by the bed. He fell asleep smiling.

Week XXIX: Master’s Degree

Jim looked around his room and nodded to himself. There wasn’t nearly enough room in here. He went to the intercom on the wall and hit the button. “Mr. Scott and Mr. Spock, Captain’s quarters.”

A few minutes later, Scotty and Spock were in his room. “You called, Captain?”

“I need your help,” Jim said. “I need to move everything to one of the family suites.”

“I’m not a delivery man,” Scotty objected.

“You are my friend,” Jim said. “And a lot of these things are too heavy for me to move.” He hated to admit it, but it was better to admit that he couldn’t do certain things than hurt Bump by trying.

Scotty rolled his eyes and looked at Spock. “Let’s go.”

§§§

A little bit less than two hours later, Scotty was laying on the floor grumbling, “I have a Master’s Degree in engineering. I’m supposed to be working on engines, not puttin’ together a changing table.”

“Watch it or I’ll send you back to Delta Vega,” Jim warned.

“You wouldn’t do that, Captain,” Scotty said. “You’d miss me too much.”

“It would be illogical to send Mr. Scott back to Delta Vega,” Spock interjected. “He is the best engineer Starfleet has to offer.”

Jim scowled at his boyfriend, who had just finished assembling the crib. “You’re not supposed to side with him,” he complained as Scotty laughed.

Spock just raised an eyebrow, so Jim turned and dug through the things he had gotten while on shore-leave earlier in the day. Soon the bed had a mobile hanging over it, a star with six planets revolving around it. It was also in possession of sheets patterned to look like Earth as it appeared from space.

“There,” Scotty said, standing up. “And that’s it. You can do everything else yourself.”

“Thanks, Scotty,” Jim said.

Scotty left without an answer, still mumbling about his Master’s Degree.

“I decided to go with cloth diapers,” Jim said, gesturing to the box he was pretty sure contained the diapers. “I mean, they do have to be washed and everything, but they can be reused. That way we won’t need to stop for baby supplies as often.”

“That is logical,” Spock said.

“I’m glad you approve,” Jim laughed. He gave Spock a quick kiss. “You’ll help me, right? With Bump?”

“Of course,” Spock said. “I would be honored to help you raise her.”

Jim smiled and caressed Spock’s cheek. How had he not seen this man, standing right next to him, until he was already pregnant with someone else’s child? He could fall in love with Spock so easily. He stepped closer to Spock and Spock slid a hand beneath Jim’s gold command shirt, resting it on his belly. Bump began kicking.

“She always starts doing that when you start talking,” Jim said. “Then she calms down when you touch my stomach. I think she knows that you’re the closest thing she’ll have to a second parent.”

Spock nodded and looked ready to say something. Instead he just rubbed his hand against the place Bump was kicking. Jim enjoyed the silence.

Week XXX: Presents

“Hey,” Dr. McCoy said, jogging up to Spock and Jim. “Would you guys want to have lunch with me and Carol today? Rec room 3, say about 1300?”

“We would be amenable to that,” Spock answered before Jim had the chance. He met McCoy’s eyes and gave the slightest nod possible.

Dr. McCoy’s eyes flashed and then he rolled his eyes. “Speaking in the plural already, Spock?”

“I do not understand,” Spock replied.

McCoy left, grumbling about hobgoblins. Spock turned to Jim, who was giving him an odd look. “Is there something you wish to say, Captain?”

“You are,” Jim said. “Talking in plurals.”

“I do not understand the significance of speaking in plurals. Dr. McCoy asked us—a plural—if we would go, so I responded accordingly by using the plural we,” Spock replied.

Jim shook his head and laced his fingers together with Spock’s. “You answered for both of us without consulting me first.”

“Is that a problem?” Spock asked. He didn’t know what he would do if it were. Nyota had made it clear that getting Jim and Dr. Marcus to rec room 3 was the only job he and Dr. McCoy had. He could not fail in this.

“No,” Jim answered. “It’s just a thing couples do. Answer for each other without asking, because they know how their significant other is going to respond so they don’t need to ask.”

“I see. Would you like me to stop?” Spock asked.

Jim shook his head and leaned it against Spock’s shoulder as they walked toward the turbolift to check on something in engineering. “No. It’s just that I’ve never been part of a ‘we’ before.”

Spock had known that Jim had had no significant relationships in the past, so that he had never been in this situation before was to be expected. “I believe Nyota and I were a ‘we’ at one point.”

“Yeah,” Jim laughed, “You were. I still remember the confused look you got on your face whenever she would answer for you like that.”

“I never look confused,” Spock objected. “While I may experience the phenomenon of confusion on occasion, my control is great enough that I—”

“Spock.”

Spock stopped talking. Jim said, “Most people can’t see it, but I have always been able to read you.”

Spock doubted that, or Jim would be more than aware of Spock’s feelings for him. And even Spock knew it was too soon in the relationship to say ‘I love you,’ no matter how true the statement was. Spock understood that Jim had what Nyota had once termed ‘commitment issues’ and that professing his love too soon would more than likely scare Jim away.

§§§

That afternoon, just before 1300, Spock ushered Jim to med bay, where he and Dr. McCoy had previously arranged to meet. Then they walked slowly to rec room 3—slowly because Dr. Marcus was approximately 34 weeks pregnant with twins and Jim was 30 months pregnant himself. Moving too quickly was in no one’s best interest.

Both Spock and Dr. McCoy had a hand on their partner’s back to usher the two of them into the rec room first. The moment the door slid open, what seemed to be half the crew shouted, “Surprise!”

The room was decorated with a Dr. Seuss theme, although from what Spock understood, Theodore Seuss Geisel had never earned a doctorate of any kind. Jim and Dr. Marcus had both stopped, their eyes wide. It appeared that the crew had been successful in keeping this quiet, an impressive feat when their Captain and Chief of Security were the people they needed to surprise.

Nyota came over and hugged first Jim, then Dr. Marcus. “We knew you guys needed stuff,” she said. “So…” She gestured vaguely behind her. “It was Sulu’s idea but I ended up doing most of the planning.” She gave Sulu what appeared to be a half-hearted glare. The Helmsman only shrugged. “Chekov helped a lot too. And Dr. McCoy and Spock were very good at keeping the two of you distracted enough that we could pull this off.”

Jim nodded but still seemed to be at a loss for words. Dr. Marcus hadn’t uttered a word either.

Spock stepped closer to his mate and looked at all the bright colors in the room. It was all quite distracting. “Neither Jim nor Dr. Marcus should be on their feet for an extended period of time,” Spock said.

“Spock’s right,” McCoy confirmed. It was very odd how often Spock agreed with Dr. McCoy of late, although it was almost always related to Jim’s health. Spock suspected that both of their significant others being pregnant also had something to do with the sense of camaraderie that seemed to be building up between them.

Nyota linked arms with the Captain and then the doctor and led them over to two chairs beneath a huge banner that read Congratulations! in sparkling, rainbow letters. Next to each chair was a pile of presents. An extremely large pile of presents.

Nyota smiled brightly. “We made one registry and Chekov sent it to the entire crew. They brought the presents to us, and we sorted them. Not everyone got you something, but a lot of people did. There shouldn’t be much you need after this.”

“Thank you,” Jim whispered. “Thank you.”

Dr. Marcus nodded in agreement. “Yes, Uhura. It means a lot.”

Nyota nodded. “Now have at it.”

Spock pulled up a chair next to Jim, McCoy on the other side of Dr. Marcus, and Jim began opening the presents that were for Bump. As large as Jim’s pile was, Dr. Marcus’ appeared even larger. Spock determined that this was because she was having two children and therefore needed twice the supplies he and Jim required.

There were bottles and toys and a plastic… thing that Chekov explained was to set in the sink. “It is a baby bath,” he said. “It makes it easier to wash the baby. It also makes bath time much safer.” When everyone stared, he shrugged and said, “My family has a lot of kids.”

There were also a lot of clothes. They were all different sizes as well. When Jim asked why he needed clothes designed for a two-year-old, a security officer said, “I have a daughter. She’s nineteen now, but they grow so fast at that age. You’ll need those clothes before you know it. Whoever did the registry knew what they were doing. There were a limited number of onesies for each age on the list.”

When Jim looked at Nyota, she held up her hands. “Hey. I may be a girl, but I know nothing about babies. I don’t want kids and nothing is going to change that. He’s the one responsible for the registry.” She pointed at Chekov.

Chekov looked embarrassed. “Like I said, my parents have a lot of kids.”

Jim returned to opening the present Spock had placed in his lap a few minutes ago. When he opened it, he found a series of onesies, the same words on every single one of increasing sizes. They were a pale green and read I’m in charge of the Captain. Jim laughed and draped one of them across his belly. “Yeah, she is,” he agreed. “She’s in charge and she isn’t even born yet!”

As they continued opening presents, Jim looked at Spock. “I have no idea where we’re going to put all this.”

Spock simply said, “We will need to purchase a dresser for her, instead of utilizing the empty drawer of yours as we planned.”

Jim just nodded and reached up to balance a stuffed canine on Spock’s shoulder. “Yeah, I guess. Now will you do me a favor?”

“Anything, ashalik,” Spock replied.

Jim didn’t comment on the endearment, just said, “Can you go replicate me a mollusk?”

“Of course.” Spock leaned in and kissed Jim’s temple before standing and walking toward the nearest replicator.

On the way over, he met Nyota’s eyes. Her eyebrows were raised as high as he had ever seen them. She followed him to where he was ordering Jim’s food. “Ashalik?” she asked.

“He is beloved,” Spock answered.

“Yeah, and I know the connotations of that word,” Nyota answered. “That’s the word you would use to tell a husband he is your beloved. Not to mention the very public kiss.”

Spock studiously refused to meet her eyes, staring at the replicator as he waited for the food. “I am half-Human, and such an innocent kiss is not inappropriate according to Human custom. And as I wish for him to be my husband one day, I believe it is logical to treat him exactly the same as I will then. So there are no ‘surprises.’”

“Uh-huh,” Nyota said, her tone more than relaying her disbelief. “And have you told him the other thing yet? Because if you ask me, that’s going to be a pretty damn big surprise.”

The replicator dinged and Spock was able to escape Nyota’s inquisition without answering the question.

Week XXXI: She’s Not Andorian

“I wish I were that flexible,” Jim said as he looked at the image of his daughter. Bump was folded in half, her heels all the way up by her head. Spock was next to him, also looking at Bump’s picture.

“I think we can rule out the Andorian as being the father,” Bones suddenly said. “If the Andorian were the father, you should have gone into labor nearly a month ago. Since she’s still growing at a healthy rate and there’s no fetal distress, I think it’s safe to say she’s not Andorian.”

Jim nodded. “I figured as much.”

“How many times did you engage in intercourse with the other potential fathers?” Spock asked.

“What, jealous?” Jim teased.

“No,” Spock answered. “I’d simply like to determine who is most likely to be the father, so we can determine the most likely due date.”

“Oh. Well, the Orion was only once. The Risian was three times, but one of them I fucked him. Then there was the Ionian. That was only once also.” He smiled at Spock. “Sorry you had to hear all that.”

Spock simply nodded. “It is most likely that the father is the Orion, shortly followed by the Risian. The Ionian is obviously a possibility, but it is the least likely possibility.”

“What, no statistics?” Jim teased.

“Would you like them?” Spock asked.

“No, it’s fine,” Jim answered. “So most likely an Orion.” He looked at Bones. “Tentative due date then?”

“Five weeks from now,” Bones replied. “If it was the Risian, you can expect the full forty. And it can’t have been the Ionian. Ionian and Human DNA are incompatible. They haven’t even managed to fertilize an egg with a sperm cell in a lab. It’s not going to happen by accident.”

Jim smiled down at Bump and poked the side of his belly. “Are you planning on coming out of there with green skin, Bump? Or are you going to have a mark on your forehead? Can you give me a hint?”

Bump gave him a hard kick. “Okay, then,” Jim said. “I’ll take that as a no. You just want to be a surprise, I guess.”

Spock opened his mouth to say something—probably along the lines of ‘a baby is incapable of understanding the concept of being a surprise’—but then he closed his mouth and just squeezed Jim’s hand. Jim smiled at him. “How would you feel about having a half-Orion daughter?”

“It would make it even more difficult to protect her from the McCoy twins once they all enter puberty,” Spock noted.

Oh. Yes. Jim looked down at Bump and warned her, “You better be a Risian, baby girl, understand me? And I’m your daddy, so you have to do what I say.”

He barely heard Spock mutter, “Illogical.”

Week XXXII: Telepath

Spock was still stuck on the fact that there were only two candidates other than himself for Bump’s other father. The chances that the Orion was the baby’s father were still above fifty percent, but the fewer candidates there were, the higher the chance that Bump was Spock’s. Nyota was right. Spock really, really needed to tell Jim. The chances that he was the father had increased to 15.2 percent. There was slightly less than a 1 in 6 chance that he was the baby’s father.

Jim smiled sleepily at Spock as he placed both hands on Jim’s Bump. He rested his forehead on it as well, telepathically reaching out to the child. Jim shared something with her Spock would never be able to share, the connection shared by the parent carrying the child. If he could feel her, though, that would be something.

As his mind touched the tiny life inside of Jim, something latched onto it with an almost frantic need. Spock almost jerked his mind away from the entity, but it held on tight. Spock calmed and relaxed into the mental touch.

There weren’t a whole lot of thoughts thrumming through the link. Just warm dark lonely warm lonely dark lonely lonely lonely.

Spock gently extracted his mind from the child’s, flinching when she cried out to him. He left a small link there, not enough to communicate but enough for Bump to know she wasn’t alone.

He forced his face to remain placid as he moved up the bed to lie down next to Jim. He could still feel the thin link to the baby and left his hand on Jim’s belly. This was… not good. The only way that Bump could latch onto his mind like that was if she was a telepath herself.

It wasn’t unheard of for Orions or Humans or Risians to be telepaths, but it was extremely rare. Meaning the chances Bump was his had just increased dramatically.

§§§

“Bump is mine,” he told Nyota.

“You determined this how?”

He felt the tips of his ears turn green. “I do not know for certain, but the chances that she is my daughter are well over fifty percent.”

“Once again, you determined this how?” Nyota repeated.

“She’s a telepath,” Spock replied. “I initiated a fetal meld, one that would simply allow me to feel Bump’s well-being. She reacted and was able to communicate with me. She was unhappy when I withdrew. I could not bring myself to break away and leave her alone again. There is still a slight link between her mind and my own.” He paused. “A spontaneous bond of any kind forming between a Vulcan and someone else, even another telepath, is rare, barring the formation of a familial bond.”

Nyota just looked at him. “Spock,” she said. “You have to tell him.”

“How?”

“That’s something you have to figure out on your own,” she answered. “But you do have to tell him.”

Spock nodded. He had known for a while that he needed to ‘come clean,’ as it were, but this was forcing him to do so when he wasn’t ready. Of course, there was the chance that he would never be ready.

Week XXXIII: Thing Two and Thing One

Carol winced. “Are you okay?” Jim asked.

“Fine,” Carol answered, smiling at him. “Just fat and uncomfortable. Back hurts.”

“I know, right?” Jim answered. “Bones has been massaging your feet though, right?”

“Yeah,” Carol answered, “Although I’m not sure how much it’s actually been helping.”

“Just ask Spock,” Jim replied. “You know the Vulcan nerve pinch? Vulcan knowledge of nerves is good for more than just knocking people out. Three pressure points in my feet and I can’t move I’m so relaxed.”

“I’ll think about it,” Carol says before another wince.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jim asked.

Carol blinked and then said, “I think my water just broke. Either that or I wet myself.”

“To med bay then,” Jim said. “Better safe than sorry.”

After fifteen seconds of unsuccessfully trying to get himself off the bench, he shouted, “Could I get some help over here?”

Uhura and two security guards were instantly by his side. “Carol too,” he said. “Her water broke. Alert Bones that we’re on our way.” Their very, very slow way, Jim added silently.

The guards and Uhura escorted them to med bay, where Bones was waiting. Then M’Benga pushed him out of the way. “You are not delivering your own children, Leonard,” he told Bones. “You are the daddy right now, not the doctor.”

“I’m Chief Medical Officer!” Bones objected.

“No,” M’Benga said.

Bones turned to Jim. “Jim—”

“Bones. Just let him do it,” Jim answered. “That’s an order. And you don’t have time for the amount of paperwork you need to do to override a direct order from the Captain.”

Bones glared at him. “Fine.”

“Mind if I come too?” he asked.

“It could be a while,” Bones answered.

Jim shrugged. “I want to be there when I become an uncle.”

§§§

It did take a while. A long while. In between contractions, he talked with Bones and Carol. Eventually he asked, “How’d you guys end up pregnant, anyway? You were surprised enough that I know you weren’t trying. And you would have told me if you were.”

“Accidents happen,” Bones answered.

Jim snorted. “Obviously.” He gestured to Bump to emphasize his point. “But I want to know how that accident happened. I mean, with mine, the birth control is a new thing, so it isn’t one hundred percent effective. And whatever guy it was must not’ve been on birth control. That doesn’t explain what happened with the two of you.”

Bones wouldn’t meet his eyes and Jim just knew it was Bones’ fault. “What did you do?” he demanded.

“Carol is allergic to all the female birth control currently available,” Bones said. “And when I was due for my dose, I may have been on an away mission and forgotten to take it.”

Jim burst out laughing. “You never get to lecture me about safe sex again, Bones.” When Bones opened his mouth, Jim repeated, “Never.”

§§§

Finally Carol was ready, screaming as M’Benga guided her through the delivery of Thing Two. Jim’s eyes were tearing up—hormones, it was the hormones, and nothing in the world would make him admit otherwise—as Bones cut the cord. He cleaned Thing Two up and handed him off to Jim so he could help Carol through delivering Thing One.

Jim stared down at the little red thing that was wailing in his arms. He’d have one of his own soon. It was simultaneously terrifying and exciting. “Look, Bump,” Jim said, “It’s your cousin, Thing Two.”

A short time later, a second cry joined Thing Two’s, and not much time later, it was all over. The two boys were wrapped in little Starfleet-issue blankets, one held in each parent’s arms.

“So, do we have names for them?” Jim asked.

Bones’ mouth thinned and he answered, “Carol does.”

“Did you not get any say at all?”

“Sure I did,” Bones snapped. “Carol just decided that she gets final pick, since she’s the one who had to push them out.”

“And carry them around for eight months, don’t forget that part,” Jim said.

Bones scowled. “You’re not helping my case here.”

“Whatever,” Jim answered from his seat across the room. “What are their names?”

Carol smiled, her eyes tired. “Thing One is named Sebastian James Marcus-McCoy.”

Jim felt the tears welling up again. They had named one of their babies after him. “Don’t you dare cry on me,” Bones ordered.

Jim laughed, wiping away the tears. “I can’t help it. It’s out of control lately. What’s Thing Two’s name?”

The way Bones was mumbling under his breath told Jim that it was Thing Two’s name he disagreed with. “Michael Spock Marcus-McCoy,” Carol answered.

“You named him after me?”

Jim turned around in his seat. He hadn’t heard Spock come in. He reached out his hand. Spock took it and sat down next to him.

“Yeah, we did,” Bones grumbled. “She wanted to name them after men they could consider good role models. Neither of our fathers exactly meets that criteria.”

“Criterion,” Spock said. “There is only one thing you are expecting, although it is rather broad. And since there’s only one thing, you should use the singular. Criterion.”

Jim elbowed him as Bones looked desperately at Carol. “Do we have to name him after the hobgoblin?”

Carol laughed and nodded. Bones sighed and seemed to resign himself to the fact that one of his babies was named after Spock. And if Jim didn’t know better, he’d swear Spock looked smug.

Week XXXIV: She Could Be Mine

Spock stared down at the tiny bundle in his arms. ‘Thing Two.’ Michael Spock Marcus-McCoy. They both made him uncomfortable, but Jim insisted that Spock get used to holding a baby. Since he was going to be Bump’s ‘other dad,’ he should get some practice in. It was a logical course of action, so Spock accepted it.

He would never admit it, but Michael and Sebastian terrified him. He was so scared of dropping them or hurting them. And he wasn’t even responsible for the other aspects of their wellbeing, like feeding or changing or clothing them. How was he supposed to handle Bump, when she arrived? When he was responsible for more than just holding the baby? He could just hand Michael or Sebastian off to Dr. Marcus or Dr. McCoy when one of them began to cry. He wouldn’t be able to do that with Bump, not if he truly wanted to be the other parent Jim was asking him to be.

§§§

That evening, as he lay in bed with Jim, his hand rested lightly on the swell of Jim’s stomach. “She kicks less when you’re close,” Jim murmured, his head on Spock’s shoulder. “Especially when you’re touching me.”

“Am I to understand that this is a good thing?” Spock asked.

“Yeah. It’s a nice reprieve from constantly being kicked and elbowed in the spine or the kidneys or the bladder,” Jim answered.

Spock can feel the thrum of possession coming from Bump. It isn’t anything as distinct as actual words, like it will be when she learns to project later on. But he knows what she’s doing; she’s saying you’re my father mine mine mine.

“You’re so good with Things One and Two,” Jim said. “You’ll be great with Bump too.”

“Do you really believe that?” Spock asked.

“Yes,” Jim said. After a while, he added, “I wish you were her father. I mean, she’s ours, but I wish you were her father biologically, not just because you’re helping me raise her.”

Spock swallowed. He couldn’t ask for a better opening. And he had to tell Jim. “I could be,” he said.

“What?”

“I could be Bump’s father,” Spock said.

Jim pulled away and looked at him, brow furrowed and blue eyes confused. “What do you mean? Do Vulcans have some weird technology to change a child’s DNA, if it’s done before they’re born?”

“There is no known technology that can do such a thing,” Spock answered. “However, in the week in which you must have conceived, there was a night… you were very drunk, Jim. I fear I may have taken advantage when you kissed me.”

Jim pushed him away, eyes flickering all over Spock’s face. “What are you saying, Spock?”

Spock had to choose his words very carefully, if he didn’t want Jim to hate him. “We engaged in intercourse in the backroom of the club. When you announced that you were pregnant, I calculated the odds of Bump being my child to be less than 6 percent. When you determined the Andorian could not be the father, the possibility that she is genetically mine rose to just over 15 percent. However, I touched her with my mind and discovered that she is a telepath. There is now an 87.5 percent chance that she is mine.”

Jim just stared at him. Eventually he said, “Get out.”

“Jim?”

“Get out,” Jim repeated, his words accompanied by a shove hard enough that Spock tumbled out of bed.

“Jim—”

“No, Spock, I don’t want to hear it. I need you to get the fuck out.” When Spock still hesitated, Jim said, “Now.”

Spock pulled his pants and shoes on, hyperaware of the glare Jim was still sending his way. Just before he left the room he stopped and tried to reason with Jim again. “Jim, I truly—”

Jim was lying on his back, arm over his eyes as he interrupted Spock. “I don’t care, Spock. Bottom line is you lied. I’m too tired to deal with this right now. So just—just go.”

Spock stared at Jim for a few more seconds, hoping Jim would change his mind, and when Jim didn’t say anything, Spock went.

Week XXXV: Fucking Vulcans

Jim stormed into sickbay. Well, as much as he could storm when thirty-five weeks pregnant. But it didn’t matter how he got there; storming or waddling, he was on the warpath. “Bones!” he hollered. “Bones, I need to talk to you!”

Bones looked up from the PADD he was holding. “Can it wait, Jim? These are kind of important.”

“No, it can’t fucking wait,” Jim snarled, struggling to get onto a biobed. If it waited, he might change his mind again. It’d already happened three times in the last three days. “Tell me what species she is.”

“Jim, you told me you didn’t want to know,” Bones answered, coming to stand beside Jim’s bed. “You said that I shouldn’t listen, no matter what you said.”

Jim glared. “When I said that, I was talking to you as my friend. Now I am talking to you as my doctor and the Chief Medical Officer onboard my ship! Tell me what species Bump is, Bones!”

Bones rolled his eyes and got his tricorder. He scanned Jim and frowned. Then he ran it again. Then he looked at Jim and demanded, “Jim, did you sleep with a freaking Romulan?”

“What? No!” Jim replied. “Why?”

“Bump is part Vulcanian,” Bones answered. “Meaning she has to be part Romulan. What would have possessed you to sleep with an enemy of the Federation?”

“She isn’t part Romulan,” Jim said after nearly a minute. “She’s part Vulcan.”

“The tricorder does show up with an analysis closer to Vulcan than Romulan, but it’s a fine line when they’re in utero,” Bones answered. “But Vulcans don’t do that sort of thing, Jim, they bond with someone, and it’s painful for them to break that bond. They don’t do casual sex. Are you sure it was a Vulcan?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Bones hadn’t done anything but Jim was just so mad at Spock he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He’d already been holding it in for days. “Why? Because I told Spock she’s ours, no matter who her biological father is! I told Spock I wished he could be the biological father! And you know what he told me? He told me that there is an eighty something percent chance that he is the biological father! He fucked me when I was drunk off my ass and didn’t tell me. He has known for seven months that he might be the father of my baby and didn’t tell me it was even a possibility! So yes. I know it was a Vulcan. Because what are the chances I’d forget sleeping with both an enemy of the Federation and my fucking First Officer? Oh, wait, Spock’s the person I ask about chances.”

“Finished?” Bones asked.

It had been building for four days so Jim still had a lot he wanted to say, but he was a bit out of breath. “For now.”

“He loves you, Jim,” Bones said. “He was scared of how you’d react.”

“Fear is an emotion.”

“And so is love. But we both know he feels them. I’m not saying he was right. He wasn’t. He should have told you the next day, or at the very least when he learned you were pregnant, but it’s too late now,” Bones told him. “What’s done is done. You’re having Spock’s baby, just like you wished. Now you have to deal with the fact that that’s even a possibility.”

Jim stared at his feet. They were swollen and sore and he already missed having Spock around to massage them in the evenings. But he didn’t know how to forgive Spock for this.

“He needs to know,” Jim said. “But I can’t tell him. I can barely look at him right now.”

Bones nodded. “I’ll tell him, kid.”

“Thanks, Bones.”

Week XXXVI: Pi’rillan

Spock had been putting off this call for months, justifying it with the fact that he wasn’t certain the child was his. Now that Dr. McCoy had told him the child was his—“Bump is yours. Now fix it, you stupid hobgoblin.”—he had no reason not to make the call.

“Spock,” his father answered.

“Father,” he replied.

“For what reason are you contacting me?” Sarek asked.

This lack of small talk was refreshing. Even after years living among Humans, Spock didn’t understand the practice. “Captain Kirk is with child,” Spock replies. “The child is mine.”

Sarek raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“He was implanted with a synthetic uterus at sixteen,” Spock explained. “I trust you understand the rest.”

“I do,” Sarek replied. “This was an experimental study?”

“Affirmative.”

“I shall look up the papers that have been written about it,” Sarek replied. “How far along is he?”

“Thirty six weeks,” Spock replied.

“You are waiting until after the child is born in order to bond?” Sarek asked.

Spock didn’t break eye contact. “My relationship with the Captain is complicated.”

“You are the sire of his child. The child will be a quarter-Vulcan and will need the familial bonds. What is so complicated?” Sarek demanded.

“At present, Jim is justifiably angry with me,” Spock answered. “He is not going to attempt to keep me out of Bump’s life but I do not know if he is going to forgive me enough to allow me to be a part of his.”

Sarek nodded. Then he asked, “You are naming the child Bump?”

“No,” Spock replied. “It is apparently a common Human practice to give their children impractical nicknames while they are in the womb. Dr. Carol Marcus recently gave birth to twins and until their birth, she and Dr. McCoy referred to them as ‘Thing One’ and ‘Thing Two.’ A reference to a twentieth century Terran children’s book, I believe.”

“Ah, yes,” Sarek said. Pain crossed his face. “Your mother did the same with you. Until you were born, you were called Pi’rillan.”

Spock could do nothing to prevent the flush that reached the tips of his ears. “I do not know what gourds have to do with a child.”

“I am still uncertain. She claimed that she looked like she had something she called a pumpkin under her shirt and named you accordingly,” Sarek answered.

Spock knew exactly what a pumpkin was and did not enjoy being compared to the bright orange fruit. “Illogical.”

“When you raise a child with a Human you grow accustomed to such behavior,” Sarek answered. He looked away from Spock and admitted, “I miss her.”

“As do I, Father,” Spock said softly.

Sarek nodded, much more to himself than to Spock, then turned his eyes back to the screen. “Do you know why I married your mother?”

“You told me you married her because it was logical at the time,” Spock answered. He had never understood why marrying a Human seemed logical, but that was the only answer he had ever received from his father.

“It was,” Sarek acknowledged. “It is logical to marry the person you have fallen in love with. Do you love your Captain, my son?”

Spock pressed his lips together. Emotion was something that should be suppressed. Yet his father had just admitted to a emotion that ran as deep as his own for Jim. So he reciprocated his father’s open honesty. “I do. Very much.”

“Then it is logical that you try to apologize and fix your relationship with him,” Sarek said. “As Captain Kirk is also carrying your child, it is also logical that you have a positive relationship for the sake of Bump.”

Hearing his father refer to his daughter as Bump was so surreal that all Spock could do was nod in agreement.

His father gave him the Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper, Spock.”

Spock returned the gesture. “Peace and long life, Father.”

Week XXXVII: Grandpa Sarek

“Mr. Chekov, plot course to New Vulcan,” Jim ordered, dropping into the Captain’s chair. God, he was so fat.

“Aye, Captain.”

“Once he’s got the course plotted, lay it in, Mr. Sulu,” Jim ordered.

A few minutes later he got the response he was waiting for. “Course laid in, Captain,” Sulu said.

“Good. How soon will we get there?”

“At present speed, six days,” Sulu replied.

“Increase to warp six,” Jim said.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Sulu replied.

“New Vulcan, Captain?”

Jim jumped in surprise. He turned his chair to glare at his First Officer. “Don’t do that,” he growled. “And yes. New Vulcan.”

“Why are we going to New Vulcan?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Starfleet has determined that it’s a good idea to have a diplomat onboard at all times, just in case. The diplomat they’ve chosen is currently on New Vulcan.”

“I see.”

“I bet it’s you know who.”

Spock’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I doubt it, Captain. Were he and I in close proximity on a consistent basis, people would notice. Starfleet has made it clear that the fewer people who know of my counterpart’s true identity, the better.”

Jim shrugged. “Well, I’ve told you as much as I know,” Jim told him before swinging his chair back around to face the viewscreen. He knew the exact moment Spock walked back toward the Science Station. Every day it got harder to stay angry with Spock. And between the pregnancy and his duties as Captain, he didn’t have enough energy to stay angry with him. Was the fact that it was too much work a good enough reason to forgive someone?

§§§

“Captain, may I speak with you?” Spock asked.

“Of course, Commander,” Jim replied, stopping in the hall. “What can I help you with?”

“I was thinking somewhere more private,” Spock said.

Oh. So it was about Spock being Jim’s baby daddy. “I think here is just fine,” he said. So he was being contrary just to be contrary. He was still a little mad, no matter how hard it was getting to hold that grudge.

Spock glanced down the hall and then said, “I am truly sorry for not telling you. You did not remember our union and I believed there was less than a 6 percent chance that I was the father. I knew you did not return the regard I feel for you, and I did not wish to complicate our relationship. I told you shortly after I realized the chances she is mine are significantly higher than someone else being the father.”

It was hard to stay angry when Spock was apologizing so sincerely. “Right. Well, what’s done is done. Bump is yours. I’m not going to try and keep her from you.” Jim turned and walked away. His heart was thundering in his chest. Bump’s kicking wasn’t helping matters.

§§§

“Transporter room, prepare to beam up.”

Transporter room ready, Captain, Scotty’s voice said.

“Okay, beam him up. I’ll be in the transporter room soon. Mr. Spock, if you’d like to accompany me.” Jim knew that Spock had a friendship of some sort with his other self. Jim couldn’t imagine being friends with yourself. But Vulcans were much more objective about things like this, so maybe it wasn’t an issue for the Spocks.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Mr. Sulu, you have the conn.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Spock kept pace with Jim’s slow waddling. Spock’s hands were tucked behind his back, but with every step, Jim could tell he wanted to put one to Jim’s back or arm to help him. Jim missed it. He didn’t like needing help, but he missed having the silent support Spock offered. The support that made it seem like he wasn’t getting help.

When they arrived in the transporter room, it was to find Ambassador Sarek waiting for them. “Mr. Ambassador,” Jim said, not even bothering to hide his surprise. He was too tired to hide emotions from anyone, let alone from someone he knew he could trust. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Father,” Spock acknowledged.

“Captain Kirk, Spock,” Sarek replied. “Captain, it was my idea that the Enterprise should have an experienced diplomat onboard. It was logical that I be the person to fill that role.”

Jim narrowed his eyes. Spock didn’t look nearly surprised enough. Okay, so he didn’t look surprised at all. But Jim could read Spock. It was almost as though Spock had been expecting Sarek. Jim looked at Scotty. “Scotty, could you leave us alone for a few minutes?”

Scotty gave him an odd look but only said, “Aye, Captain,” and left the transporter room.

Jim adjusted his position so that he could look at Spock and Sarek at the same time. “This isn’t about Starfleet or the Federation, is it? This is about Bump.” He looked at Spock. “You told him she’s yours.”

“Yes, Captain,” Spock answered. “As there are so few Vulcans left, I deemed it necessary to inform my father that there will soon be an addition to our clan. I did not, however, ask him to join us on the Enterprise.”

They both looked at Sarek. Sarek remained completely unperturbed. “You and my son are both occupied by your positions as Captain and First Officer. There have been very few Captains with children in the history of Starfleet, none who have had children with their First Officer. They have always been able to work out a schedule so that the child is always watched by a parent. Nannies are not a service offered by Starfleet. It is only logical that someone be here to care for the child when the two of you are busy with your Starfleet duties. It is also logical that that person be someone experienced in the care of a part-Vulcan, part-Human child.”

Jim stared. He didn’t have words. Spock looked at Jim and said, “His logic is sound, Captain.”

Jim tried as hard as he could to give the two Vulcans The Look. He wasn’t sure if he was unsuccessful, or if Vulcans just weren’t affected. Either of those was plausible. “I’m not raising her to suppress her emotions, Grandpa,” Jim told Sarek. “You can teach her to do the Vulcan telepathy and shields to control that and everything, but she isn’t going to be condemned by you or anyone else for showing the world that she’s happy or sad or angry.”

Sarek looked at Jim for a long moment before saying, “She is three quarters Human. It is logical that she be raised in a more Human manner than we raised Spock.” Sarek paused. It seemed to Jim that what he admitted next caused him actual pain. “I must admit that there was a flaw in my logic when I insisted Spock be raised in an entirely Vulcan manner. In hindsight, it would have been better to raise him as both, so that he would not have tried to avoid his Human half so insistently.”

Jim nodded. “Very well. Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Ambassador.”

“As you have already determined this is about Bump, it is logical that you call me Sarek. I am, after all, here as your child’s grandfather,” the man answered.

Jim really didn’t know how to handle an emotionally invested Vulcan.

Week XXXVIII: Cut Off

Spock was relieved. Jim was speaking to him again. They hadn’t yet returned to their easy relationship of before, filled with casual touches and frequent kisses in the Vulcan style. But the fact that Jim had actually smiled at him today, no matter how small the smile had been, gave him hope that he could fix it.

So he went to Nyota for help. “He is no longer avoiding me,” he told her over lunch. “How do Humans typically move forward from here? I have apologized on multiple occasions and explained that I only withheld the truth due to fear.”

“Flowers. Chocolate.” She made a face. “No, chocolate would be bad for a Vulcan baby, right?”

“Correct.”

“Not chocolate then. But flowers would work.”

“Jim does not like flowers,” Spock said.

“It’s the sentiment behind it that counts, Spock,” she informed him. “He’ll understand it’s more about the feelings you have for him than the flowers themselves.”

“I see. Flowers.”

After a couple minutes of silence, Nyota asked, “You do realize it’s weird to ask your ex-girlfriend for relationship advice, right? Especially when your new relationship is with another man? And that that man is preggers with your baby?”

Spock paused and then said, “Noted.”

Nyota laughed. “I’m glad you trust me though. I’ll take the weird if it means you still trust me with your problems.”

Spock nodded. “Unless it at some point starts to make you uncomfortable, I will continue seeking you out when I need advice on Human interaction.”

Nyota smiled.

§§§

Jim didn’t like flowers, but the flowers Spock sent still seemed to have the desired effect. Apparently Nyota was right in saying it was the sentiment that counted, not the gift itself. The day after he sent the flowers, Jim asked Spock, “Chess tonight? My quarters?”

Spock nodded. “I would like that very much, Captain.”

Jim’s eyes sparkled. “It’s Jim, Spock. How many times do I have to tell you?”

§§§

That evening, after Jim lost spectacularly—he blamed it on what he called ‘pregnancy brain,’ something Spock would have to research further to completely understand—Jim said, “You’re still sleeping on the couch.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “We are not in possession of a couch that would be good for sleeping on. And considering we have both your bed and my own, I do not understand how it is relevant.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “I mean you’re not sleeping with me tonight, Spock. You are going back to your quarters.”

Spock blinked. “Why would I not go back to my quarters?”

“This is what I get for dating a Vulcan,” Jim mumbled, quietly enough that Spock wouldn’t have heard it if not for his superior Vulcan hearing. Louder, Jim said, “It means I’m still a little bit mad at you but I care too much about you to break up with you.”

Spock was a bit confused. “I was under the impression that you had already terminated our relationship.”

Jim ran a hand through his hair, mussing it even more than it was before. “No. I hadn’t. I just told you to get out, right? And gave you the silent treatment? Breaking up is flat-out telling you it’s over.” He shrugged. “Unless you’re a complete asshole, then you just let them catch you cheating or some shit like that.”

“I see,” Spock said slowly, although he didn’t quite understand. Humans confused him. “So we are still in a relationship?”

“Yes,” Jim said. “But you’re cut off for an indefinite period of time.”

“Cut off?” Spock asked. “Cut off from what?”

Jim put a hand to his head and said, “Sex, Spock.   I am not going to have sex with you for a while and I don’t know how long ‘a while’ is going to be.”

Spock could live with that. “So we are once again in a monogamous romantic relationship, but it is no longer sexual?”

“No,” Jim answered. “We are still in a monogamous romantic and sexual relationship, we’re just not having sex. It’s like a punishment. You lied to me, you don’t get sex for a while. Get it?”

“Negative reinforcement against lying,” Spock said.

“Exactly.” Jim looked at Spock and then said, “But I’ve changed my mind. You don’t have to sleep on the figurative couch. You can stay here. You know, if you want to.”

Spock nodded. “I would like that.”

“We’re still not having sex,” Jim warned him.

“Understood.”

§§§

Four nights later, all Spock had shared with Jim was innocent kisses. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem, as Spock usually had complete control of his sex drive. Unfortunately, Jim slept in nothing but those lacy panties, his pectoral muscles had given way to small breasts to nourish their child naturally when she was born, and his stomach was stretched tight around their baby. It was so arousing that no amount of meditation was able to curb Spock’s arousal and each night he was forced to masturbate in order to avoid breaking Jim’s no-sex rule. He truly understood why this could be considered a punishment.

Tonight, Jim said, “I’ll jack you off if you want.”

Spock frowned. “I do not understand. Handjobs are a form of sex.”

Jim chuckled. “Spock, the only reason I was able to deny you sex was because Bump has killed my sex drive the last three weeks. I just… don’t want it. If I did, I couldn’t have let you move back in here because it would have broken me within a couple hours. But I’ve decided you’ve suffered long enough, considering you were afraid. I would have been afraid too, if our positions were reversed. I probably would have done the same thing. Actually, I probably would have waited until Bump was born to admit I did something wrong.

“Anyway, I’ve decided I’ve punished you long enough and I’ll give you a handjob. You know, if you still want to have sex with me.”

“A handjob is unnecessary, Jim,” Spock told him.

Jim chewed his lip. “I could try to blow you,” he said. “I don’t know how well it would work, but if that’s what it takes to get you to want me then—”

“You misunderstand,” Spock interrupted. “I want you so much that I have already brought myself to orgasm this evening. It has been the only way to prevent myself from breaking your no-sex rule. I have found myself in need of the activity the last few nights. Had I known you were ready to participate in sexual acts again, I would have refrained from masturbation.”

Jim stared. Finally he asked, “Vulcans jerk off?”

Spock looked away. “It is necessary on occasion, when our mental control is lacking. And seeing you clothed in only those panties while pregnant with my child is a very great test of my mental control. Last night I had difficulty not touching you, even though I had already brought myself to completion earlier in the evening.”

Jim stared for so long that Spock began to worry he had said something wrong. Just before he could open his mouth to ask what he had said or try to backtrack, Jim said, “You think I’m attractive? Even though I’m all fat and bloated and shit?”

“I find you extremely attractive,” Spock confirmed. “And you are not fat. You are pregnant.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. And since you got me pregnant in the first place, that means it isn’t just because I’m pregnant.”

“Clearly,” Spock said. “I am in love with you.”

Jim stared. Then he closed his eyes, and Spock worried he had made the confession too soon. But then Jim smiled. “I love you too. I don’t think I could have forgiven you if I didn’t.”

Spock kissed him. After a few minutes, Jim pulled away. “You really like the panties, huh?”

“Affirmative.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Jim said. “You know, when Bump lets me have my sex drive back.”

Spock couldn’t contain the strangled noise that emerged at the thought of Jim wearing panties even after Bump was born.

Week XXXIX: The Corbomite Maneuver

Jim jerked awake when the ship jerked around him. Seconds later, the red alert sirens began going off. What the hell was going on? Because he was so not in the mood for hostile alien forces. Bump was clearly Vulcan in the temperature department; the last couple weeks Jim had been completely unable to get warm, to the point where his quarters were comfortable for Spock now. But as Captain, a dramatic shaking of the whole damn ship required his attention. So he dragged himself out of bed, wrapped himself in a blanket, and went to his viewscreen. “Bridge,” he ordered.

“Captain,” Spock answered. “We are under attack from a Klingon vessel.”

“And you didn’t think you should, I don’t know, wake me up?”

“I am aware that you are having trouble sleeping,” Spock answered. “I determined that alerting you was unnecessary when I believed I could handle the problem myself.”

“Still believe you can handle the problem?”

Spock didn’t answer.

Jim rolled his eyes. “Give me Uhura.”

Seconds later, Uhura was on the screen. “Can you hail them?” Jim asked. “Patch video through to my room?”

Uhura made a face but immediately began following his orders. It was less than thirty seconds later that a Klingon Captain was looking through his viewscreen at him. “I am Captain James Kirk of the USS Enterprise.”

“Captain Koloth,” the Klingon replied. “Surrender and prepare for your ship to be boarded, Captain.”

“No,” Jim answered. “You are not going to board my ship.”

“You have no choice in this, Captain,” Klingon said.

“You will board the Enterprise over my dead body,” Jim snarled at Koloth.

“I can arrange that,” Koloth replied, “Easily and with pleasure.”

Spock entered the room just then. Jim ignored him, telling the Klingon, “You will have to destroy this ship before I allow you to board it.”

Spock didn’t move or blink at that statement. It was Federation policy that a ship be destroyed before it fall into the hands of a Klingon or a Romulan. Koloth glared, but Jim was over it. He was tired and sore and cold and Bump was kicking his bladder. “If I must, I will destroy the ship,” the Klingon answered.

“Your funeral,” Jim said, trying to sound as though he didn’t care. He did, a hell of a lot. No matter what, he could not let this ship be destroyed. Not with Bump onboard.

“I doubt that,” Koloth said. “Your shields are falling apart and you have too much energy invested in them to fire your phasers at full power.”

Jim ignored Koloth and turned to Spock. “Spock, go have Uhura contact Starfleet. They’ll need to know that we’re activating the Corbomite Device and that this section of space won’t be safe for the next four years.”

“The Corbomite Device, Captain?” Spock said, raising his eyebrow. Thank god the Vulcan facial expression for confused was exactly the same as the Vulcan expression for surprised.

“Yeah,” Jim replied. “Bad enough to lose the Enterprise. Don’t want to risk any other Federation vessels. And they need to calculate the 200,000 kilometer dead zone as soon as possible. Best to be on the safe side.”

“Captain, I don’t think—”

God, could Spock not just leave and pretend to be doing what Jim ordered? Did he really have to reveal Jim’s bluff to the enemy? “Spock,” Jim interrupted. “Not letting Federation technology fall into enemy hands is second only to the Prime Directive. If that means we have to use Corbomite so that the Klingons’ destructive force is reflected back at them tenfold, then I will do it. I’ve made my decision. Now go.”

Thankfully, Spock went.

Koloth was analyzing Jim’s face, searching for the lie. “You are bluffing,” he said.

Jim sighed and stood. He dropped the blanket so that it was around his hips rather than his shoulders. Gooseflesh broke out across his shoulders and chest. “I don’t want to die, Captain Koloth,” he said. “I have a baby on the way, a lover I want to marry. But if I’m going to die anyway, I’m sure as hell taking you down with me.”

Koloth stared at Jim—more specifically, Jim’s distended belly—for several long seconds. Then the screen went blank. Jim closed his eyes and sat back down. Fifteen seconds later, he heard Spock’s voice. “The Klingon battle cruiser is retreating at warp speed, Captain.” Perfect, now he could go back to bed.

“Excellent,” Jim said. “Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. Mr. Spock, my quarters.”

Minutes later, Jim heard the door to his quarters swish open. He didn’t open his eyes. “You needed me, Captain?”

“Just Jim, right now,” Jim answered. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t avoid admitting the truth. “I can’t get up.”

Spock didn’t say a word, simply helped Jim to his feet and back over to the bed. Once he had helped Jim back into their bed, he asked, “Corbomite?”

Jim sighed and looked up into Spock’s brown eyes. “I bluffed. If I hadn’t, we would have needed to self-destruct. If they had called me on it, we would have died anyway.”

“That is a distinct possibility,” Spock acknowledged.

“Glad to hear it,” Jim said. “Now I’m tired and technically off-duty. Stay here for a few minutes until I fall asleep, okay?”

Jim fell asleep less than thirty seconds later.

Week XL: The Natural Dispersion of Logic

“Absolutely not.”

“But Booooooones,” Jim whined.

“No,” Dr. McCoy said. “I don’t care what those hacks who call themselves doctors told you. You are a man, your body is not made to carry a baby. You are at forty weeks, which is term for a Human. Since Bump is three quarters Human, she could come any day now. You are confined to your bed.” He pointed at Spock. “And barring another attack by fucking Klingons, you are on medical leave as well, Mr. Spock.”

“I am not ill,” Spock answered. “Nor am I pregnant, as is Jim. My taking medical leave is illogical.”

“Is it?” McCoy asked. “How about this: I have other patients to tend to. Scotty’s engineers who get a little too excited with some new piece of technology and your scientists who get a little too curious about some alien rock. I cannot watch Jim twenty four seven, and I can’t spare the people necessary to do that for me. Do you really think Jim is going to stay in bed if someone isn’t keeping him there?”

Spock couldn’t calculate the exact odds—Jim was illogical and unpredictable at the best of times; the pregnancy hormones were not helping—but he knew Dr. McCoy was right. Jim would be trying to get out of bed constantly, on principle if nothing else. “Very well, Doctor. I shall remain here. I assume he is allowed out of bed to use the facilities?”

“Yes, but nothing else,” McCoy said. He was looking at Jim. “Do you understand? I should have confined you to your bed weeks ago! Once it became clear it wasn’t the Andorian’s, you should have been on bedrest. Now you are at term for a Human, eight weeks to go if she were entirely Vulcan. Bump could decide to make her appearance any day now. You are to stay put.”

Jim crossed his arms over Bump and glared at McCoy. Really, Jim should not be this attractive when he was essentially throwing a tantrum. McCoy turned to look at Spock. “And you. You are to wait on him hand and foot. You are not to allow him out of bed unless he needs to use the bathroom. No showers. If he feels dirty, he needs to take a bath. I don’t want him on his feet more than necessary.”

Jim perked up. “Spock’s strong. Three times as strong as the average Human. He can carry me to the bridge and I can stay in the Captain’s chair. No standing or walking necessary.”

McCoy just glared at Jim. “Are you trying to make me tie you to the bed? Do you want a catheter and sponge baths?”

Jim’s eyes met Spock’s. “A sponge bath wouldn’t be too bad,” he acknowledged.

McCoy put a hand to his face. “I didn’t need to hear that.” Then he frowned and glared. “And no more sex. It could send him into premature labor. We need to wait until Bump is ready to come out before I cut him open.”

“Doctor, your surgical skills will be unnecessary in this instance,” Spock said.

“Excuse me?”

“As I’m sure you read, given the proper muscle relaxants, the men in the study are capable of giving birth naturally, should they so desire,” Spock answered. “Jim and I have discussed it. The only way to perform a cesarean on Jim involves the removal of the entire synthetic uterus, after which Jim would be unable to conceive another child, should we wish to have another.”

McCoy turned to stare at Jim. “Have you gone insane?” he demanded. “You want to push an entire baby out your—Jim! That’s madness!”

Jim glared back at McCoy. “It’s my baby and my body. I want to give birth to her as naturally as possible.”

“But this isn’t natural!” McCoy shouted. “Nothing about this is natural!”

Spock saw the tears welling in Jim’s eyes and decided it was time to intervene. “I must insist you go now, Dr. McCoy,” he said. “You are upsetting my mate.”

Dr. McCoy threw his hands in the air and left the room muttering about hobgoblins and filing papers to prove a Captain is mentally unsound and Spocklets and that was when the doors shut behind him. Spock turned to Jim. “Jim, is there anything I can do?”

Jim sniffled. “Your mate?”

Spock sat down next to him on the bed. “You are carrying my child. By the primal definition of the word, you are my mate. We already katelal, mated for the purpose of reproduction. By the social definition, by which you would be considered my sa-telsu, my husband, I would like that, if you are willing to have me.”

“Are you proposing?”

“Affirmative.” Spock paused. “Why are you crying? I did not mean to upset you. If you do not wish to bond with me, you need only say so. As a Vulcan, I will not take offense. Such a thing is a Human—”

Jim began laughing. “I’m happy, Spock. Sometimes Humans do this, cry when they’re happy. Fucking hormones. But yes. I’ll marry you. Bond with you. Whatever. Whenever you want.”

Spock tried to push down the joy that bubbled up—it was a Human emotion and should therefore be suppressed—but found he was so unsuccessful that a smile actually made its way to his face. Jim reached up and touched the corner of his mouth. “You should do that more often,” he told Spock. “You’re even more attractive when you smile. It makes me wish Bump hadn’t been so horrified by our activities that she killed my sex drive.”

“Aside from the fact that Bump is unable to understand the act of fornication, let alone be horrified by it, Dr. McCoy specifically instructed that we not engage in intercourse,” Spock reminded Jim.

“And since when does either of us listen to Bones?”

“I will not risk our daughter,” Spock replied. “And I know you wouldn’t either.”

“You’re annoying,” Jim told Spock. The affection in his eyes said otherwise.

§§§

“Have you considered names?” Spock’s father asked.

Spock met Jim’s eyes and then told his father, “Jim has already decided upon Bump’s first name, but he does not want to tell me what it is until she is born. As he is the one carrying her and giving birth to her, I deemed this fair.” Jim had also used the excuse that he was ‘giving up his body for this,’ but Spock disagreed on both a literal and figurative level. “He told me that I should choose her middle name, his only requirement being that it is something he is able to pronounce.”

Sarek eyed them both thoughtfully. “And her family name?”

“At this point in time, she is ‘Bump’ Kirk, daughter of Spock,” Jim said cheerfully. He grinned. “Granddaughter of Sarek.”

Sarek’s eyes and face softened in a way Spock was sure only he was able to detect. “Very well. As long as you have a name selected, I need not know it before she is born.”

Spock knew his father well enough to know that there was a big difference between Sarek needing to know something and wanting to know something. “Father,” Spock said, “I assure you that once we have decided upon a name, you will be the first to know.”

Sarek’s eyes brightened and Spock had the sudden suspicion that logic was going to have very little place in any of Sarek’s interactions with Bump.

This point was proven when Sarek leaned forward without asking and pressed his hands and forehead to Jim’s belly. Jim looked alarmed but didn’t say anything as Sarek performed a fetal meld with Bump. Spock could not quite process the fact that, while deep in the meld and oblivious to the world, Sarek began smiling.

It was so small as to be nearly nonexistent, but on a face that had held no emotion even at the time of his wife’s death, it was striking.

What was this child doing to them?

§§§

Spock sat next to Jim when Jim put in the call to Starfleet. “Jim,” Admiral Castell said cheerfully. “Are congratulations in order or did you do something else that requires my help?”

“Well, I found out who the baby daddy is,” Jim said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Spock lied to me,” Jim said, as melodramatically as ever.

“I did not lie, Jim,” Spock objected. “I simply withheld some of the facts in order to—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you lied by omission, same thing,” Jim interrupted before looking back to Castell. “Anyway, as it turns out, he fucked me that week and he has some crazy half-Vulcan super-sperm, which got past my contraceptive and the fact that I don’t have a real uterus. So Spock is the baby daddy. Also, we got together before he told me that, and now we’re getting married.”

Castell stared at them, her mouth opening and closing several times before she finally asked, “So you’re having your First Officer’s baby and then you’re going to marry him?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah,” Jim confirmed.

“Do you know how much paperwork this is going to involve, James Kirk?”

“I could just remain in an unofficial, unsanctioned relationship with the father of my bastard child,” Jim suggested. “At least the paperwork will make it so that the whole thing reflects well on Starfleet and the Federation.”

Castell hung up on them.

Jim turned to smile at him. “That could have gone worse.”

“It also could have gone better,” Spock pointed out. “Speculation about what could have been is illogical, as what has happened has happened.”

“Shut up and kiss me, you silly Vulcan.”

Spock wished to object to being called silly, but thought Jim might withdraw his request for a kiss if the denial was vocalized. He would save that debate for later.

Week XLI: Bump

After Spock helped Jim to the bathroom and helped him stand back up—god, this sucked, why did he have to be so fat?—Jim refused to get back into the bed.

“Jim,” Spock said, sounding so frustratingly reasonable and fucking logical that Jim wanted to scream or punch him or something. “Dr. McCoy placed you on bedrest. You are not to be up and walking around. It could be dangerous for yourself and Bump.”

“I fucking know what Bones said,” Jim snapped. “And I have been lying down for nine days, Spock, nine! There are two times in my life I have stayed in bed that long—after Tarsus, when I was too weak to move, and after Khan. And after Khan, I was comatose for all but that last four days of it, so it doesn’t even count. And my back aches and I just can’t, Spock. Let me walk around, for just a few minutes. Please.”

He must have looked bad, since Spock actually took pity on him. “Ten minutes,” Spock allowed. “After which you will return to the bed.”

Jim would take what he could get. He’d probably be tired after ten minutes anyway. As he moved around the room, his back gave a stronger pang than before. He groaned. “Can’t she just come out now?” he whined. “I’ve already had her in me for more than the full forty weeks!”

“You are not carrying a Human child,” Spock reminded Jim. “Typical Vulcan gestation is forty eight weeks. My mother’s due date was therefore at forty four weeks, although I was 9.6 days late. It is logical that, since Bump is only one quarter Vulcan, she should be born sometime next week. Considering the date of conception, forty two weeks is eight days from now.”

“But babies are born a week early all the time,” Jim complained. “Michael and Sebastian were born a month early and they’re perfectly healthy!”

“As Dr. McCoy has repeatedly told you over the last 6.1 days, it is best to let Bump decide when the right time is,” Spock said.

That wasn’t exactly true. What Bones had said was that it’s best to schedule cesareans a week or two early, to make sure the baby doesn’t come before then, but ‘since you’ve gone fucking insane, you better sit tight and wait for her to show up on her own.’

“Ow!” Jim complained, pressing against his back.

“Perhaps you should lie back down,” Spock suggested.

“No! Lying in bed for so long is what made my back start hurting in the first place!” Jim objected.

Spock did that little lip-twitch-eyebrow-raise that constituted a frown. “When did your back begin to hurt?”

Jim shrugged. “Off and on since yesterday evening. Why?”

“Back pain is an early sign of labor in many Humanoid species, including both Humans and Vulcans,” Spock said. “It would appear that Bump is ready to make her appearance.”

“Oh thank god. Call Bones, would you? I don’t want a C-section, but I want him close by, just in case,” Jim said.

“That is logical,” Spock said. “I will have him bring his surgical kit, in case of an emergency.”

Jim chuckled. “That’s logical too.” That was when the first real contraction happened. It wasn’t bad, and it wasn’t long, but it was enough to tell Jim that yes, Bump really was ready to be born.

He heard Spock make the call and about ten minutes later, Bones, M’Benga, and Chapel were all in the room. “All of them?” he asked Spock. “Really?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at Bones. “I only sent for Dr. McCoy.”

“This is a rare opportunity,” Geoffrey said. “I do not intend to miss it, barring any disasters.”

“I’m studying for my M.D., Captain, you know that,” Christine said. “This is the kind of thing that will give me an advantage.”

“So I’m just a science experiment to the two of you?” Jim groused.

They both looked pretty sheepish, but Bones ignored them. “I don’t see why you couldn’t have come to med bay for this. It’s more sterile. I don’t want to cut you open here.”

“You’re not going to cut me open, Bones, remember?” Jim said.

“Then why the hell did Spock tell me to bring my surgical kit?”

“Just in case,” Jim said.

Bones glared. “Do you know the kind of tearing that could occur because of what you’re going to try and do, Jim? You could—”

“That’s what regenerators are for,” Jim interrupted him. “And we’ve been over this. More than one of the other guys in the program has given birth this way with no long term complications.”

“I still say med bay would be more sterile,” Bones complained.

Jim looked at Spock. “Spock?”

“The doctor is correct,” Spock said. “The medical bay would be more sterile and less likely to result in infection, particularly if the birth does not go as smoothly as we would like.”

“Are you comfortable preparing me for it in sickbay?” Jim asked.

“It is logical to do it where it is safest for you and the child,” Spock replied.

Jim sighed. He’d really wanted to do this in the privacy of his own quarters. But if M’Benga and Chapel were going to watch anyway… “Might as well. But I really don’t think I can walk all the way there. I’ll need a hoverchair or you to carry me.”

“That’s something at least,” Bones muttered. “Christine, could you go get a hoverchair?”

“No need, doctor,” Spock interrupted. “I will have no problem carrying Jim to the medical bay.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bones muttered. Jim didn’t hear his further grumblings, distracted as he was by another contraction.

§§§

“Okay, they’re close enough together,” Bones announced four hours later. “And she’s descended properly. If you haven’t come to your senses about the C-section, you best start prepping him now, Spock.”

Spock nodded and Jim placed his feet in the stirrups, spreading his legs obscenely wide. Spock turned to M’Benga and Chapel and they stepped back. Sarek didn’t move, completely unfazed. Yep, a Vulcan definitely taught the class where Admirals learned The Look. “You know what I am going to do,” Spock told them. “There is no reason for you to observe. To do so would be an invasion of Jim’s privacy.”

M’Benga and Chapel both nodded. Sarek gave Spock the Vulcan equivalent of a scowl, but he stepped back anyway. God, Jim wished he hadn’t let Sarek bond with Bump until after she was born. He wouldn’t have known Jim was in labor otherwise. Fucking Vulcans.

“Spock,” Jim said, “Get on with it. As much as I want to give birth to her naturally, I will take a C-section over pushing her out of my body without preparation.”

He felt something prod at his entrance, after which Spock said, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He wasn’t. He had done this to himself often enough, but being douched in front of a group of people by your boyfriend was not the same as doing it the privacy of your own bathroom. Jim just closed his eyes and reminded himself that this was for Bump. This was for Bump. This was for Bump. It would all be worth it. The swollen ankles, the fatigue, the constant chills, the lack of sex, the humiliation, the pain, all of it would be worth it, once he held his baby in his arms. That was what everyone said, right? That it was all worth it in the end?

Soon enough that part was over and Spock’s fingers took the place of the enema. They were warm, the lubricant between them easing the way as he began stretching Jim open, pausing only when Jim cried out in pain from a contraction. “Doctor, could you please give Jim the muscle relaxant?” Spock asked.

Jim felt Bones jab a hypo in his neck—more gently than usual, although that was no doubt because he was in labor, not because he cared—and felt every muscle in his body loosen. Spock’s fingers were still working him open, but the stretch was easier now, even as Spock added a fourth finger.

“Do the meld, Spock,” Jim said. “Meld with her, to see if she’s ready.”

Spock closed his eyes. After a moment, his face scrunched up and he began speaking. “Out. Out out out. Tight too tight too tight. Too small. Warm too small tight out out out—”

Jim suspected Spock would have kept going, but Jim’s next contraction must have jerked him out of the meld. “She is close enough,” Spock told him. “You are ready to push.”

Thank god.

It felt like hours and like seconds before it was over. Jim was dimly aware of Bones telling Spock to cut the cord—was Spock’s hand trembling? No, it couldn’t be, it was the drugs and the pain and the adrenaline—as his baby girl began wailing. Yes. Healthy lungs. She was going to be a hell of a Captain one day—Captains needed a good set of lungs, in case they needed to put a crewmember in their place.

He had to push one last time and then it was over. Spock leaned over and kissed his forehead before gently placing their baby in his arms. “She’s seventeen inches long, 6 pounds, 7 ounces. Born at 1852, September 19. Perfectly healthy,” Bones said.

When Jim looked down at his baby, he understood how much Bones cared about him. She had pointed ears and was flushed green, and Bones hadn’t made a single comment about it. “She’s perfect,” Jim whispered, running a finger down one of her tiny ears.

She turned toward his finger, her green-tinted lips opening and closing. “What’s she doing?”

“She’s hungry,” Bones told him.

“Oh.” He stared down at her. Then he looked up at Bones. “How do I…?”

Bones rolled his eyes and helped him position her so that she could mouth at one of his nipples. It took a while, but soon enough she was suckling. It was one of the strangest, most intimate things he’d experienced—and that was saying something, all things considered.

Sarek cleared his throat. Jim and Spock turned to him. “She has been born,” the ambassador said, “I believe that now would be an appropriate time to give her a name.”

Jim began laughing. Unfortunately, that jostled his baby girl and she began whimpering, at least until he repositioned her and she was able to start feeding again. “Yeah, I think so.” He looked down at her. “Her name is Astraea.” He looked at Spock. “Do any of your names go well with that?”

“I considered some Vulcan names,” Spock said, “But none of the ones I found pleasing are easily pronounced by Humans. From the Human names I considered, I believe the name Eirene sounds most pleasing with the name Astraea.”

“Astraea Eirene Kirk, daughter of Spock,” Jim said. “It’s a perfect name.”

Sarek looked ready to say something but held his tongue. Jim wasn’t sure but he suspected he knew. “Spock gets to hold her first, Grandpa, and not until she’s done eating.”

Sarek looked away. That was all Jim needed to know he’d been right.

“Well, Astraea Eirene Kirk,” Bones said, “You have already done something I didn’t think possible.”

“What’s that?” Jim asked.

“Made two Vulcans look like love-struck teenage girls,” Bones replied. His eyes sparkled so much that Jim knew Spock was never going to be allowed to forget this.

Spock and Sarek both made grunting noises of protest. Jim held in his laughter so he wouldn’t upset Astraea again.

That was when Scotty burst in. He stared a moment and then said, “Am I seein’ things, or is that a blond Vulcan?”