title: Next To You 12/20
series: ST Fanfic Masterlist
fandom: Star Trek XI
pairing/characters: Spock/Bones/Kirk
rating/warnings: R->Nc-17, sex, language and the usual
prompt/summary: a sequel to: Above All, a logical being and Come Together. (Reading them is fairly important to understanding the established relationships found herein.) It's the rest of their lives and Spock wants a family.
disclaimer: I don't own, I don't profit and I mean no offense.

a/n: 1. this isn’t beta’ed. (i mean except by me and we're all our own worst betas) GASP! Forgive mistakes.
2. enjoy :)



Bones really was a Southern gentleman.

At very least, Kirk figured, Bones was a damn jealous husband. The fact that he could slip in with the precision of a hot knife and put a dangerous situation at calm while insulting a man to his face and still making it seem like a compliment—well, that made him some kind of something. Dashing, maybe. All dolled up in his dress uniform, frowning at diplomats over the rim of one of those delicate long-stemmed champagne glasses.

Kirk had seen the man circling around Spock from across the room. There was no reason that he shouldn’t have—there Spock was with his long legs and his short skirt and he was a perfectly attractive woman. He was a Vulcan and they were so rare in the world anymore. Especially the women—the women were protected like holy vessels and you almost never saw one away from their settlement. He had half a thought to cross the room and intercept the man before he got close enough and then the pretty woman with the ringlets had turned his attention back to her.

She was Trelesca and he was assigned to her as some kind of personal servant. The wording of the order had been vague and insulting but the meaning had boiled down to Kirk ordering his crew to dress nice, find a diplomat they could stand and stay close. If that meant dancing—dance. If that meant tackling would-be assassins to the ground and having a real satisfying fist fight—well that was alright too. Except, for the first time in all his memory, the diplomatic function seemed to be moving along without incident.

It could have been, he figured, because there were two starships too many hanging out above the planet to keep the peace and that was before Kirk showed up to the over-crowded party. So, he turned away from the shark circling Spock and back to the woman who was trilling something fascinating about the indigenous plant-life of her planet and its many stimulating effects.

“The flowers,” she said, “are especially known for their sensation enhancing effects—it’s really quite exhilarating.”

Was it now?

When he looked back over Bones had his arm around Spock’s waist and a finger pointing the offending man toward a cluster of women in long skirts that seemed to be all at once embarrassed and intrigued. Spock was standing stiff as a post with his arms behind his back. Bones kept smiling that grin that meant whatever he was saying he didn’t quite mean and couldn’t quite keep himself from drawling southern style. The man—Kirk tried to remember his name—nodded like an apology and turned to go on his way. Bones took a drink and turned so he was close to Spock, pinkie finger running down his neck and hooking under the gold chain to pull it out. The wedding band caught the light and Spock tipped his head toward Bones.

God, they looked like they’d been married for twenty years and fell in love five minutes ago all at once.

“Captain,” Trelesca purred.

“Yes,” he said and set his own glass to the side. “I was just thinking,” that she wouldn’t stop until he gave her something. He couldn’t give her anything and he couldn’t have made the meaning of the ring on his finger any more plain without asking Bones to come rescue him from a woman with devious intent toward his virtue. Dancing, he felt, was some kind of agreeable compromise. “We should dance.”

Her flush was somewhere between purple and magenta but she seemed pleased by his offer. She set her own glass down and raised her arms. She had six fingers on each hand and her palms were leathery-rough. It was an interesting tangle of trial and error before they managed to get their hand woven together and then his on her the small of her back and hers on his shoulder.

--

“Maybe,” Leonard said after he ran two of his fingers down the length of the gold chain to straighten the wedding band at the end, “we should go out onto the balcony for a minute.”

“It is several degrees cooler out there, Leonard,” Spock returned. He did not like the unsettled feeling in his body that lingered after the mistaken Ambassador had apologized for the oversight and excused himself. He did not like being propositioned as a female—even if only for a dance. The insinuation that he would mate with that man, or that any Vulcan woman would mate with that man was absolutely preposterous. It was insulting.

“I know,” Leonard whispered to him. He rested his hand against Spock’s stomach and pressed his fingertips through the dress to attempt to motivate to move. “You’re turning green, come on.” He was not nearly as calm as he presented himself to be. There was that familiar feeling of possessiveness in his touch and coming through their bond.

“I do not appreciate how you are treating me as if I am incapable of caring for myself,” Spock stated. He might have pushed Leonard’s hand away if not for the surge of heat that came through the bond and the way the hand moved up to catch his wrist. The chill of Leonard’s hand was startling and Spock allowed himself to be turned to see the flush on his face and neck reflecting back at him from the polished mirrors on the wall. “I see,” he said.

They made their way to the open glass doors and out onto the balcony that over looked the city. The two moons were bright in the sky. Leonard sighed as he leaned against the rail and looked down into the glittering lights of the city. “We’ve got to do something about these hormones, Spock.”

“I agree,” he said. It was not what he wished to say. He wished to say that it was not entirely his fault that he was hormonal given that he would not be pregnant with multiple babies if not for the combination of the fertility treatment and the falsely-created Pon Farr. He was willing to concede that having children was originally his idea as long as he were permitted to indicate that he did not wish to have so many children at once.

Leonard looked over at him with one eyebrow cocked up. “I can’t imagine what you’re saying in your head right now.”

As bright as the emotions of anger and frustration and love were in Spock at the moment, there was no doubt that Leonard could feel them as acutely as if he were a full Vulcan. Except he was not fulfilling his role by providing emotional security but rather quietly allowing the emotions free reign due to some misguided sense of humanity. Spock did not want to feel these things. He did not want to be overcome by frustration that left his skin hot and tight and his eyes strangely wet.

He most certainly did not want to cry.

“It is unpleasant,” Spock agreed.

Leonard nodded as he stood up straight. “Uhura’s supposed to be here in a few minutes. Maybe you should go back to the—”

“I do not believe that is necessary,” Spock interrupted. It was illogical to react in such a fashion when the concern was well placed. He was unhappy at this forced social occasion. He had long since caused the young woman he was meant to accompany to retire to her rooms for fear of arousing his anger. He was not enjoying the atmosphere, he could not concentrate long enough to form logical and useful observations and he was uncomfortably aware that Jim was attracting the lustful stares of several other party-goers both male and female.

Particularly, Spock had noted, female. Leonard had chosen to ignore the elderly diplomat he had been assigned to in efforts of, as Jim might have called it, running interference.

The females were objectively attractive. In fact, should one be attracted to women that were, presumably, female since their births and were not pregnant and were clearly slightly more colorful than himself, they were quite attractive. However, Spock believed that their company would be far less entertaining and satisfactory over any span of time beyond that it took to engage in sexual intercourse with them. Furthermore, it was entirely possible that they would be unsatisfying in that respect as well.

“Spock,” Leonard said.

“I would like to remain here,” Spock stated.

Leonard considered this for a moment before sighing and tipping the glass in his hand up to swallow what remained. “Of course you do.” He set the glass on the rail before coming over to stand in front of him. They were awkward for a moment before Leonard reached up to press a hand against the side of his face and then kissed him. The gesture, by itself, was irritating in that it seemed condescending but the reassurance that Leonard was offering him that he was loved, attractive and capable of deciding for himself what his boundaries and limitations were was welcome.

“How did I know I’d find you out here?” Nyota said.

“You were always an amazingly perceptive woman,” Spock stated. He took undue satisfaction in Leonard’s twinge of jealousy at the statement. “You are welcome to leave, Leonard or you can remain.”

Of course Leonard frowned and then reached back to pick up his glass. “I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes.”

Nyota smiled because she was uncertain of what expression she should have. She nodded graciously at Leonard as he passed and then turned her attention to him. Her hug was cool against the heat of his skin. “So,” she said. He had promised that he would explain events leading up to him becoming pregnant. “You actually got Jim Kirk to marry you and you’re pregnant. One more miracle and you’d be a saint.”

--

It started as an itch. Bones hadn’t ever been allergic to flowers before—or punch, or stuffy aristocrats and politicians with too much perfume and a penchant for gossip—but new allergies could develop rather suddenly. He treated the itch on his neck like an allergy, ran the tricorder over himself and frowned at the results and gave himself a shot anyway just because. The little itch became a big annoyance somewhere around the time he was trying to drown the monotony of the moving bodies with another crystal glass full of non-alcoholic champagne.

He was getting sick to his stomach but the celebratory ball was still going strong. Jim was off flirting with some woman and a man that looked like they were sharing stories. That was no good to watch (he really, really didn’t share but Jim was Jim). The woman would run her hand down Jim’s arm in a way that Spock wouldn’t like.

Bones was scratching his neck as he wandered out toward the open air of the balcony. Spock and Uhura should have been out there whispering their illegal secrets to one another. It wasn’t exactly an enviable situation to have both of one’s lovers engaged in some kind of flirting with other people. Not that it mattered, Spock wasn’t going to cheat on him with Uhura (not after she dumped him because they just didn’t fit together right). Jim probably wasn’t going to cheat on him in front of his face at a celebratory ball. In fact, excepting extreme circumstances, Jim probably wouldn’t cheat on him at all. The man had all the earmarks of being an absolutely stupid romantic at heart. Bones knew because he’d spent his childhood watching one of those silly bastards at work.

He’d never be his father but now and again, Bones came close. He was just too much like someone else—like Mama, his aunt. The kind that drove everyone away without even meaning to because they never said the right thing and never meant the right things and always had to be right. Prickly bastard, that was what he was.

Jim wouldn’t cheat on him. He wouldn’t cheat on Spock either. He damn sure wouldn’t cheat on Spock. Not unless the world depended on it and then he’d take his punishment without a word. Bastard.

“Leonard,” was Uhura’s uncertain call from behind him. She wasn’t comfortable calling him by his first name because they’d never been comfortable with one another. She was still the ex—might always be—and the best friend that him and Spock hadn’t ever had sex with together. He was the jealous, possessive, surly husband. “Something’s wrong with Spock. Is your neck bleeding?”

Felt like it was. Bones drank the rest of the champagne even if it made his stomach roll. “What’s wrong with him?” You just didn’t say things like that to someone about their pregnant husband (mate, wife, whatever he was now). “Is it the baby? Is he—”

“He’s twitchy,” Uhura said.

Twitchy? Bones followed where she pointed. The itch became a burn that was inside his skull instead of on his skin. Every step he took closer to Spock, the burn got hotter and hotter until it was pouring down his skull like pure white fury. He almost fell against the wall next to Spock, pulling his tricorder out and running it over his head and down his over his chest. “What the hell,” he managed to get out through his grating teeth. (Bones realized, maybe too late, that he was pissed off and he didn’t even know why.)

Spock was flushed green and clenching his hands so tight that his knuckles were blanching. If he had been twitching before, he was absolutely stiff now. His temperature was a high fever and his heart-rate was ridiculous and dangerous.

“Spock,” he said, “Calm down or you’re going to hurt the babies.”

When that didn’t work—like Spock hadn’t heard a word he’d muttered at all, he grabbed his elbow to try to yank him and found it was like a brick wall. He reached up and grabbed the point of his ear and twisted it. The thud of his body against the wall was dampened enough by the fall of the curtain that nobody seemed to notice or turn to look. “You’re going to kill the babies,” Bones said flatly, “if your temperature gets any higher.”

It might have been a slight exaggeration. It might not have been.

Spock’s head tipped to one side like he still didn’t understand the words he was hearing. His hand was so hot against Bones’ arm it felt like it was leaving burns. “I need you,” Spock said lowly, “to tell me to go back to the Enterprise. I would then appreciate it if you would inform Jim that should he continue to allow that woman and the various other members of her species to touch him I will unfortunately be forced to break their fingers—or perhaps remove them entirely.”

Tell him to go back to the ship? Bones stared back at him until the grip on his arm tightened and the white-hot pain down his spine was almost too painful to think through. He closed his eyes and nodded his head. “Spock,” didn’t leave any room to be questioned and the strange jerk that went through them both left him breathless. “Go back to the ship. Right now.”

“Of course, Leonard,” Spock said. He stepped away, excused himself out to the balcony as he found his communicator and Uhura was left standing there looking confused.

“Go with him?” Bones said.

--

Bones appeared at his side with a pink flush on his neck and sweat on his forehead like he’d been standing too close to a furnace. “Excuse me,” he said with his finest smile and the sweetest tone in his voice, “I need to talk to the Captain for a minute.”

“Sure, Bones, what is it?” Kirk asked. He didn’t exactly shrug Trelesca and her six fingered hands off his shoulder and arm (again) but he tried to move away from them. The touch was entirely too much of a come-on and he was entirely too used to leaning into touches like that and letting them take him where they wanted. His body was all for it and the rest of him was trying to work out how you turned someone down.

“Alone,” Bones added.

“I believe he is meant to be mine for the remainder of the evening until I’m ready to retire,” Trelesca trilled and her brother (wasn’t really her brother, he didn’t think—hopefully not) agreed with her with a nod and an overtly friendly gesture toward Kirk. “I am not yet tired,” she added.

Bones’ smile got that fiercely polite tilt to it. The shimmer of his dress uniform caught the light and reflected in his eyes and that made him look strangely angelic and almost psychotic all at once. “Well,” he said back (with a drawl), “I believe he’s my husband. I don’t know,” oh hell his accent was dripping off his words now and Trelesca was tipping her head as her ear wiggled to follow along, “if you know what that means.” Bones rubbed his hands together.

“I am aware of the term; I do not see how it applies. Captain Kirk is ranking officer and he has orders.” Her smile was like a viper’s.

The way Bones nodded his head and opened his hands like agreeing with her was nothing but polite-faced sarcasm. “You seem like a real fine, real smart woman,” he said like he meant it.

“Bones,” Kirk said with a smile slapped on his own face so hard it made his cheeks hurt.

“It’s not your fault that terms like this don’t translate well—so, I’ll try to explain it in—what do you call it Jim?”

He had no idea. None at all.

“Universal terms? Jim,” Bones said, “is mine. Starfleet is renting him from me. Do you understand?”

Trelesca looked something between offended and confused. She turned her head to say something to the man that hopefully wasn’t her brother who shrugged and said something back while Bones smiled at them indulgently. “I understood this word to be different. Captain Kirk is your prostitute?”

Oh fuck, the Admiral was going to have a fun time with this.

Bones chuckled. “No, you misunderstand—see, this is why these terms don’t translate. You see this ring?” he held up his hand.

“Yes,” Trelesca purred, “the Captain has similar adornments.”

“Yes he does,” Bones agreed like calling her an idiot. Kirk couldn’t figure out why the fuck he wasn’t saying something but then there was the way Bones was moving them closer together without touching him at all. And the way Trelesca had finally loosened her grip and freedom was so close he could taste it. “These are wedding rings and we’re married and where I come from, you don’t touch another man’s husband without his permission—now whether you meant to be doing it or not, you’ve been—”

“I don’t really think she meant to be,” Kirk offered.

“Of course not,” Bones agreed, “she’s a fine woman, aren’t you?”

Trelesca was blushing again. Kirk was trying to imagine what ridiculous orders they were going to get next. Something about everyone going on a high fiber diet and getting their heads shaved or something. There was some regulation that hadn’t been enforced in almost eighty years about every officer being completely ambidextrous. Maybe they were all going to be spending hours a day practicing penmanship again.

“I believe I understand your meaning,” she said. “He is your companion.”

Bones nodded, “now we understand one another.”

“You may take him,” Trelesca said. She stepped up close to Bones without touching him to whisper loud enough Kirk could hear clearly enough: “I recommend swift punishment as he did not inform me he was…taken.”

Taken? Kirk wanted to explain a few things to her about who took who exactly and in the end Bones winked at her and smiled in a way that said oh I plan to without saying word. Then he tightened his hand around Kirk’s arm over his elbow and pulled him away. “Damn it, Jim,” Bones snarled at him when they were at the edge of the crowd, half buried in curtains.

“I tried telling her I was married,” he said.

“Of course you did—was that before or after the hand sex?” Bones looked entirely too hot, rubbing the back of his neck and hissing at the pain of that.

“Is your neck bleeding?” Kirk asked.

“Never mind about that,” Bones said.

“Hand sex?” He looked across the room. “Where’s Spock?” When he turned back to look at Bones he got a flat glare that asked him where he thought the man was. Not here, that was where Spock was. “I wasn’t having hand sex with her.”

“Was she touching you? On your hands? Neck? The inside of your wrist there where you get all giggly stupid?”

“I do not,” Kirk retorted. (Yes he did.) He thought of the way she was stroking his neck and hands and clinging to him and how the other two she’d brought over had done the same. It had been strange at the time but aliens were always touching him in weird ways it hadn’t even occurred to him before. “How the hell was I supposed to know?”

Bones rubbed his face and heaved a sigh. “You weren’t. Welcome to being married to Spock. It’s learn-as-you-go.”

“What do I do now?”

“Nothing, I’ll handle it,” Bones said.

Well that was a God-damn stupid resolution.

--

Leonard returned from the ball with the appearance of someone who had been harassed unfairly. His formal attire was half off before Nyota cleared her throat to indicate she was still in their quarters—not Jim’s quarters but in fact, the room he had shared with Leonard for the past several years. It was nearly empty now after several months of shuffling their belongings to the other quarters but it would be serviceable for the evening.

“I know you’re there,” Leonard said. He stripped off the outer shirt and threw it on the floor before sitting on the bed and tugging his boots off.

Nyota cleared her throat and stood up. “Spock, I’ll come back tomorrow to talk to you some more and to answer some of your questions.”

Yes, the troubling things that this body often did to him and a variety of customs and expectations he was unfamiliar with. He nodded his thanks to her and she left the room after telling Leonard good-bye. He grunted something in return to her before plucking at his shirt and dropping it on the floor.

“He didn’t know,” Leonard said as he pulled his pants loose and pushed them down. Once he was free of the confining dress uniform he seemed to relax save for the pink marks on his neck. He ran his hand across his upper arm as if it hurt him as well before he looked up at him again. “You’re still angry.”

“I believe I am,” Spock agreed, “I also believe I was mistaken with the number of children. There may be as many as four.”

Leonard’s eyebrows twitched at that. “We need to find out how many. Tomorrow.”

“We will not have time tomorrow, we are expected to attend several functions—at least, I am expected to do so. As is Jim.”

So Leonard nodded. “Day after. Come on,” he stood up and came closer.

This was, traditionally, the part where they engaged in some manner of fight or rough sexual activity. The impulse to reclaim what was rightfully his was bright in the anger but he was not capable of doing so as his body dictated and Leonard was not the mate that had acted in an, admittedly unintentionally, hurtful fashion. “I do not understand what you want.”

“I want you to—” Leonard was looking down at him. His body was covered in goose bumps from the chill of the room. There was familiarity to the tense of his muscles and the expectation that passed between them. It would be simple enough to fall into the same pattern.

The scar on Leonard’s back was a permanent testament to the years they had followed the same pattern.

“I want you to tell me what you need. He didn’t mean it and being angry at him won’t solve anything and I set that woman straight. So what do you need? What am I supposed to do?” He pushed Spock’s hair away from his forehead and scooted past him to sit on the couch at his side. It was out of the ordinary and the silence was heavy with the expectation of being answered.

“In this instance?” Spock asked.

“Sure—or—in general.” He was rubbing the back of his neck again. “Damn it, Spock. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. You’ve got to tell me or I never will.”

Spock nodded. “As the—as you say—dominant mate you should provide what you would consider emotional stability. Females are traditionally more emotional that males.” Not enough that humans would note the difference but enough that their children were more readily aware of their affection. Their mates were also constantly aware of the affection their mates held for them and reciprocated it equally in different terms. “As such, they sometimes require their mates to assist them in stabilizing their emotions.”

Leonard nodded. “This,” he said with a hand gesture that was dismissive at best, “isn’t ever going to translate well, is it? Vulcan to Human?”

Spock did not have an answer to that.

“My father cried with my mother,” Leonard said, “they didn’t cry a lot but when they did—they cried together.”

The statement left them both staring at the space along the wall where they had done that very same thing not so very long ago. Spock could not bring himself to feel embarrassed by the memory but it was not one he wished to repeat. He thought carefully about what he meant to say before he spoke again.

“I’m never going to be emotionally stable,” Leonard said. “If you—if you were the dominant one, could you control this,” he said with another dismissive hand motion, “better?”

“I am uncertain,” Spock said, “however, I believe you are more naturally suited to the role of the nurturer. You are most content when you are allowed to care for others despite what you might otherwise believe. It is only your certainty that you would be unhappy that gives me pause in suggesting as much.”

Leonard snorted. “Well, let’s do it that way then.”

“It is not that simple,” Spock said. “It will not happen in an instant, it will take some time.”

Leonard nodded. “So what do you need now?” He was closer now, searching for the warmth he had thrown on the floor when he shed his clothes. “Want to see how I told that woman to get off Jim?” His pride was evident in his smile but there was an understated disappointment beneath it.

The disappointment was a curious thing and Spock nearly asked about the nature of it before thinking better of it and agreeing to share the memory.

--

Well damn was last night, walking into his quarters to find the bed cold and left made up to perfect regulation standards. (Spock was annoyingly perfect like that. Bones didn’t seem to give a damn.) There wasn’t even a trace of the two of them except the hedgehog taking up space on the ledge over his bed. Bones had a medical text book there too and Spock had a neatly organized stack of relevant PADDs he read with the light on dim while they slept.

(It was important to share time with one’s mate, especially those times that were seen as traditional couple moments, apparently.)

Kirk wiggled out of enough of his clothes he could fall asleep and crawled into bed. He’d had too much practice forcing himself to sleep not to be able to do it now. His brain tried to twist and roll and he beat it down until it was flat and silent (and alone too).

“Your alarm clock is increasingly aggravating,” woke Kirk up the next morning. Spock was moving the blankets, dragging his heat out of the nest and letting in the—by comparison—frigidly cold air.

“Spock, stop it,” Bones bitched from the other side of him and was fisting the blankets to yank them up against his side and seal in his own heat. The man slept face down as often as he could get away with it, drooling onto the edge of his pillow half the night. There was no wonder he woke up bitching—his back probably hurt.

The alarm turned off and left the room stupidly quiet. Kirk was on one elbow with his fingers pushing through his hair still trying to figure out where the hell they’d come from and how he slept through them climbing into bed with him. Spock sat against the head of the bed and closed his eyes.

He looked tired.

Spock never looked tired. Tired enough to sleep sitting up (that wasn’t meditating) before starting awake. “Jim,” he said to him.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Kirk thought to say.

Spock nodded. “I admit I experienced an exaggerated emotional reaction to your actions. I believe that has passed now. Also, I advised Leonard not to speak to diplomats in such a tactless and offensive manner again.”

“So long as they keep their hands to themselves, I will,” Bones muttered from half under the blankets.

“Is that it?” Kirk asked. That was never it—Bones pissed Spock off and the whole ship knew about it for days until they got around to whatever they did to resolve it. (Kirk only knew half details about that, things he remembered from seven years ago and that scar he’d seen on Bones’ back a time or two. He could guess what parts he didn’t know.)

“Were you expecting punishment?” Spock asked.

Just—something.

“Spank him,” Bones offered.

“I find the use of corporal punishment distasteful,” Spock said, “we will not be employing such discipline measures with our children. This is not a negotiable topic.”

Bones pushed himself up to his elbows, all sleep-lined and frowning. “Jim is not our child. I never said I was going to hit our children and you don’t get to decide what is or is not negotiable. You already got two non-negotiable names.”

Kirk thought it was strange to feel ignored when he was in the middle of them. “Spock,” he said and looked back, “Bones—shut up.” He pushed his hand against his pillow and sat up in the middle of the bed, dragging the blankets with him and rubbing his face. They were oddly quiet and watching him instead of sharing glances at how stupid he was. “Spock,” he said, “there are no non-negotiable rules. I don’t think any of us are going to be hitting our kids. Bones—” He had nothing to say to Bones.

Spock nodded. (But he looked so tired.) “I believe we should prepare ourselves for the day.” He was climbing out of bed then.

Bones bitched while he wiggled out from under the blankets and sat on the side of the bed.

“Is he—really alright?” Kirk asked.

Bones looked over his shoulder at him. “He’s not going to talk to you about it in front of me, Jim. But yeah, he’s ok.”

Right. Ok. Sure.

--

“Four?” Chapel demanded late into the afternoon when Bones escaped the monotony of another diplomatic luncheon to act like he was doing any real work. “Four?”

“At least,” Bones agreed. The at least part was the troubling part of it all. They needed to know how many there were exactly and Spock seemed to be discovering another little life-force or mind or energy or whatever he called them at odd intervals. Four. (Four.)

Chapel whistled. “That must be why he looks so tired,” she said.

Well, it was that or the fact that he was spending half his day lukewarm when he was used to being hot and coming back to their quarters only to fail at calming himself enough to meditate. Bones was tired but Spock was looking downright exhausted as the days went on. He wasn’t eating enough either—damn Vulcan metabolism and how he thought he knew what his body needed. Four babies (at least) and he wasn’t eating nearly enough.

“Any new names? Still Monty, Tiberius and Amanda?”

Bones nodded, “I don’t think Jim knows yet.” Unless Spock told him while they were down on the planet but probably not. They were at opposite ends of this diplomatic reach-around. They’d be lucky to see one another from a distance before the end of the day. Bones rubbed his face and stared at the stack of PADDs he was supposed to be completing. Apparently Admiral Jackass wanted another set of complete physicals of the crew that followed the exact regulation standard. Every toe and corresponding toenail present and accounted for.

Bones just didn’t care. Admiral Jackass was causing his mate unnecessary stress. Both of them, for that matter.

“Did Spock pick all those names?” Chapel asked.

“Jim picked Amanda,” Bones mumbled. “It’s a good name—Spock liked it.”

--

Kirk hadn’t really ever noticed—or maybe he had and it didn’t matter—how many times in a day general and half-meant come-ons passed back and forth between him and any given person he was talking to. It was:

Well, maybe I will. To a Prime Minister that looked almost entirely human and grinned at Kirk’s face while his second set of eyes stared at his crotch with no sense of shame. What Kirk meant to say was something about trying a new delicacy or another but what the tone of his voice and the comfortable shift of his body said was go ahead, look, I like trying new things—like your mouth.

And:

A lean, laugh, smile all low-slow-and intense. It was his favorite little unspoken come on and it was full-force directed at some petite little princess with flowers in her skirt who was twirling her hair around her fingertips while she talked about acrobatics or something. She was champion something or another—whatever she called it—and he said: now that’s something I’d like to see. She lifted an eyebrow at him that would have made Bones green with envy, really.

Then:

I heard something like that but I’ve never had the chance to try it before to a woman with shimmering pink skin and the most alluring fall of sparkling silver hair he had ever seen. She was cool under the touch of his hand across the back of her elbow and her smile spread almost to her damn ears. It was unnerving enough that it made his stomach quiver. She leaned in close enough to hiss like a serpent. Maybe I can show you later, Captain? and his eyes were half closed while his lips were half-parted and his mouth was halfway to agreeing (oh definitely) before his brain caught up to him.

“I’m married,” he blurted out. Then he stepped back. “Well, engaged. I’ll be married soon.”

“Congratulations,” Sherra said.

“Thanks,” Kirk said back.

“Who’s the lucky woman?” she asked.

“Man—well, men, actually. Spock and Bones—Doctor Bo—Doctor McCoy,” he said. It was hard to look suave when you didn’t want to look interested and he was fairly sure he just looked stupid shifting on his feet while he put distance between them.

Sherra was looking at him like he was stupid as she went a little white under her pink skin. “Spock is the Vulcan woman?”

“Well, he’s a woman right now,” Kirk said, “it’s complicated.” He smiled as best as he could but she was already drifting over to someone that looked a little less insane and wasn’t engaged to a Vulcan woman that may or may not have been a Vulcan man at some point.

--

Spock returned the ship when his obligation to mingle had been fulfilled to the exact minute. The average temperature on the planet was several degrees higher than that of the Enterprise but he did not wish to stay where half of the occupants knew him as his male self and the other half were ignorant that he was not naturally female. The questions as to how he had gotten into his current state were intrusive and difficult to answer without directly lying or omitting entire sections of the story. The suggestive nature of the comments he received from males of various species were insulting.

He was comfortable with stoic indifference but at the same time he acknowledged that it came from a reserve that bordered on racism and he did not like that either.

“You look tired, Spock,” Uhura told him when they were alone in the quarters he had previous shared with Leonard. She was sitting on the couch while he pulled the large sweater he had taken from Jim’s basket on over the somewhat threadbare shirt he often wore to sleep in. “How’s the pregnancy going?”

“Leonard says it is progressing well,” Spock said, “although he believes I should consume more food and sleep several more hours a day than necessary.” He came to sit next to her and took note of how she had her legs crossed as if it were entirely comfortable.

“He is a doctor,” she said quietly.

“I am aware of my body’s needs,” Spock said. He tried to cross his legs as she had hers and it felt awkward in the same way that it had for over a month. Even with the pants on, it was not as he was accustomed to sitting.

Nyota took note of this and laughed at him gently. “Alright, a few things. And don’t cross your legs like that, it looks silly when you do it. It’s not a Vulcan thing.”

“My thighs grow tired when I try to sit with my knees together,” he said.

There was another laugh at his expense. “Try hooking your ankles together under the chair. But why are you wearing that dress anyway? You’re a man—although, you’re also a woman right now and you really need to start wearing a bra. I mean, don’t your breasts hurt when you don’t?”

The subject was strange. “Not usually,” he said.

“They will. Even if you weren’t pregnant.” She stopped for a moment and got a strange squinting look to her eyes that left him with certainty that whatever she meant to say next would be something he would find uncomfortable. “Who likes them better?” was a twist of her smile.

“Excuse me?” Spock said.

“Leonard or Jim, who likes your breasts better?”

“Is this a common, accepted discussion among females?” Spock asked. He did not have an answer to the question even if were considered to be routine. She seemed to realize that he did not know what to say and find that to be pitiable. “I am familiar with bras,” he said as a means to change the discussion. It was possible that another layer of clothing would help to stave off the chill of the Enterprise.

“Also, you should shave your legs,” Nyota said. “Better yet, have Leonard do it.”

Spock stared at her. “If I wished to shave my legs I believe I would be capable of doing so without Leonard’s assistance, Nyota. I am female and pregnant but I am not incompetent.”

She slapped him and he didn’t understand that either. (It could have been a female thing.) Then she rubbed his arm where she must have felt she had hurt him. “You probably wouldn’t like it anyway. It’s probably a girl thing. You would need water and a razor and shaving cream to do it right anyway.” Then she abruptly changed the subject to his plans regarding the children.

Were there names assigned? (Not as yet with any definite authority. Tiberius, Montgomery and Amanda were tentative names chosen without knowledge of the sex of the children.)

Where were they going to sleep? (In their beds.)

Was he going to nurse them before he was turned back into a man? (Of course.)

--

There had not been enough time to engage in productive or even nonproductive conversation the previous night. Jim did not return from the planet’s surface until long after Spock had completed his routine checks of the ship and retired to their room. Leonard had been ready for bed and Spock had given into the urge to rest as well.

It was not, therefore, strange to wake up and find Jim close against his side. Spock regarded it as an unfortunate habit of Jim’s to curl his body around whoever he was sleeping closest too. Leonard privately believed it to be a symptom of a life spent in loneliness. That theory was only tenuously supported by the fact that when Jim’s sense of security was shaken he was all the more difficult to inspire to loosen his grip.

Spock, as one might say, cheated. It was a simple matter to place a hand on Jim and allow him to continue sleeping while Spock extracted himself from the cage of arms and legs. Leonard woke up enough to see that he was getting out of bed and moved his body into the warm space that was left behind.

It was only a temporary solution. Jim was stepping into the rather small shower in his bathroom before Spock had even had time to be certain his hair was appropriately cleaned. “Jim, this shower is not large enough to comfortably fit two. If you will wait a moment I will—”

“We fit fine,” Jim interrupted. If by fine he meant that there was hardly room for their elbows and only a matter of centimeters to maneuver one’s self—then his statement was accurate. “We need to talk.”

“Of course,” Spock agreed. Jim did not show any inclination toward actually cleaning himself. “About what?”

“About what?” Jim repeated. He had a particular look of disbelief that made Leonard’s comparable look seem understated. “About two days ago—”

“I do not understand what there is left to discuss. You were unaware of the woman’s intentions toward you and only partially educated on the manner of significance associated with touch and mating as relates to Vulcans. Furthermore, my reaction was exacerbated by my current condition and should not be taken to appropriately indicate my true feelings.”

Jim blinked at him. For a moment it was as if he had heard none of what Spock said and then he was far too close. His skin was naked and cool and his palms were actually quite rough as they closed around Spock’s arms. (The interesting thing was that Leonard did not touch him differently but that Jim could not control his own subconscious demand to touch Spock as if he were truly a woman.) “That’s bullshit,” Jim said when he was close.

“I assure you, I will not consider this single incident to be worthy of note nor do I still harbor negative emotions toward or opinions of you at this time,” Spock said.

“Of course you don’t,” Jim agreed. He kissed Spock then—a strange gesture half in exasperation and half in relief before he pulled back far enough to look down between their bodies and satisfy his daily urge to see Spock naked.

“Leonard, however, does not have a highly developed sense of forgiveness,” Spock offered. He did not consider a betrayal of personal trust to say as much. There were some things about one another they would need to learn and re-learn firsthand. Then there were those that they could share with one another.

“Really,” Jim mumbled. His stare lingered longer than it had in the past and Spock felt strangely self conscious. “Not Bones.”

“Are you staring at my breasts?” Spock asked.

“No,” Jim answered, “your little swollen belly.”

“My belly is not swollen.” It was not yet overtly noticeable. There was perhaps a small sampling of individuals that had guessed he might be pregnant. Most of them had some manner of extra-sensory perception. Yet, Jim ran his hand down Spock’s body from his ribs to his navel and smiled in a way that was all warm and comforting. “I would like to ask you to do something, Jim,” Spock said.

“Oh?” he mumbled.

“Yes. I have come to the conclusion that Leonard—” There was an unfortunate matter of how to best phrase the request. “That is,” he corrected, “I believe he would enjoy engaging in sexual intercourse with you.”

Jim looked up at him with one raised eyebrow and his usual smile at the corner of his lips. “I noticed that too,” Jim agreed, “I just haven’t had the time.”

Of course.

--

It was getting so a man couldn’t even go to his own office without being attacked by a woman. Uhura was waiting for him in Sickbay but worse than that, by the time he got there she had already had time to talk to Chapel. So there were two of them on the warpath (as his Granny used to say) and he was the unlucky fool that they happened to be looking for.

“What?” he asked.

“We’ve decided that you need to do something about Spock’s dress,” Chapel stated flat-out. “It’s been over a month.”

Yeah, well Vulcan pregnancies could last up to ten months so the fact that it had only been one didn’t seem to really matter. Bones waited for the rest of the demand before he went off trying to defend himself.

“You’re his doctor,” Uhura pointed out, “you should have the authority to change his uniform. There are pants that woman can wear too. There’s no reason he should be wearing that dress.”

“I would have to have a sound medical reason to do something like that,” Bones pointed out. Besides that, he was Spock’s doctor and his husband so his judgment wasn’t exactly considered to be subjective. Command wasn’t going to nod and smile and accept what he said just because he said it.

“How about he’s cold?” Uhura said, “that has to be bad for the babies.”

Well, there was that. Bones sighed and she put her hand on her hip while Chapel put both hands on his hips and they both glared. “I’ll do what I can.”

If he spent a while looking through the good-old Starfleet regulation handbook instead of finishing those complete physicals he hadn’t even started yet—well, that was just too bad for Admiral Jackass, wasn’t it?

--

Spock didn’t say thank you when Bones ordered him (as his doctor and not his husband or mate) to wear a different uniform. He didn’t protest either but rather went to see about obtaining such a uniform and that left just Jim and him in their quarters. Jim was wearing his black undershirt and chewing on the end of a stylus while he glared at a PADD (again) like he didn’t even notice they were all alone or the exchange that had just happened behind his head.

Bones tugged his boots off and pulled his shirts off. Tomorrow he was supposed to put that damn dress uniform back on and go back to the planet’s surface to participate in some health-committee meeting with a bunch of other doctors. It was nothing he was looking forward to. Hours in a small room with big-headed doctors discussing the relative merits of mandatory vaccinations and development of new diseases.

“So,” Jim said as he set something back on the desk.

“What?”

“That was pretty smart thinking, Bones,” Jim finished and he was close enough to smell before Bones even had time to look up from tugging his left sock off. There was only one way this was going to go when Jim was looking at him like that. He was pushed back against the bed with its regulations-perfect crisp sheets and Jim was over him like a hot blanket.

It wasn’t any kiss they’d ever had before—all alone in Jim’s room. Bones got out of his own pants and Jim threw his clothes off the bed—somewhere—and nudged at him until he was all positioned how Jim wanted him. Anyway was good, really, it had just been too long since someone pushed him down against the mattress and Jim kissed him hard as he moved inside of him.

“Damn,” he breathed over his teeth, “come on, Jim,” with both hands pulling hard on fleshy hips. Jim gave him what he asked for and the bed squeaked like it was dying but it was good—better than that—and Bones was shivering with his knees and heels pushing hard against human warm skin just to get more-and like that.

Jim was panting against his chest, forehead against his collarbone after it was over. His elbows quivering against the mattress long after his knees had given out and they were crushed one against the other. Bones had one hand on the back of Jim’s neck and a head full of strange ideas about how they hadn’t ever done that before. He wasn’t sore but his body felt used because it wasn’t used to being manhandled anymore.

“Bones,” Jim said sideways across his chest. There was something else he wanted to say after Bones hummed a curious noise. Whatever it was must have gotten caught in Jim’s throat because he just lifted up far enough to kiss him just below the ear instead.

“Me too,” Bones mumbled back and kissed Jim somewhere between the temple and the too long hair over his ears.

--

At least four. Spock had mentioned it across the breakfast table as if it were nothing more important than the weather report. At least four babies and that wasn’t counting what babies Spock might not have discovered yet. Bones said it wouldn’t take him too long to figure out how to make the imaging equipment in the Sickbay to work to show how many babies there were exactly but Spock pointed out that they didn’t have the time presently.

So he put on a pretty face and tried not to think about how in a matter of months he was going to be a father of not one but at least four babies. Four months ago he was a single person with no greater commitment than command of a starship. Then again, when he considered he was responsible for the well-being of over four hundred lives already a mere four didn’t seem that important. Until he started considering that the mere four were going to be his children and he had plenty of experience being a captain but no idea how to be a father.

Bones probably had the best idea because he had a kid and even if he didn’t see her very often he was raised in the center of an expansive family. (Maybe Bones’ family would help them. Four babies.) Spock was going to be all Vulcan about having children and probably be teaching advance algebra to toddlers. (That idea was sort of cute except Kirk figured Bones was going to argue in favor of lazy childhoods and that left Kirk to try to figure out what the hell childhood was even really supposed to be like.)

Then again, he found himself at another fancy dinner with low music and dancing dignitaries. Everyone was talking quiet-loud and drinking out of those tall-stemmed glasses. Kirk wasn’t assigned to anyone tonight because there were more than enough bodyguards and Starfleet officials to play nice. He was just there to be an extra set of eyes and yet another smiling Starfleet face for the public to acknowledge.

A tall woman with a strange dress came over to him with a downcast curious stare and said: “Captain Kirk, isn’t it?”

“I’m married,” he said. It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it was before he said it but between the at least four babies that he was going to be having and the fact that Spock and Bones were both somewhere in this room and he didn’t want to fall asleep alone again because he was caught flirting. “I mean, yes, I am.”

She twisted her face up (almost literally) into a vicious mask. “I too am engaged with a partner. I did not inquire as to your status, sir—furthermore I am offended that your first impression of me is that of someone who would seek sexual satisfaction from a lesser being.”

Kirk considered apologizing when he heard the chuckle behind him that sounded like it was choked off behind a fist. The woman was just building up to start shouting at him when the hand touched the back of Kirk’s elbow. Bones was there with that crooked grin and a red-pink blush of swallowed belly laughs on his face.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I couldn’t help but overhear. You’ll have to forgive him—he’s just so proud,” Bones looked at him out of the corner of one eye.

“Yes,” Kirk agreed, “I’m so proud to be married I have to tell everyone that I meet. I didn’t mean any offense to you and I apologize if it seemed that way. I’m married and I want everyone to know.”

She didn’t seem to believe them completely but after a few more apologies she was willing to let them off with a glare that assured them she thought very lowly of them both. In fact, she thought lowly of all humans just from having met them. Then she was on her way back to a small crowd of her own kind who chattered in their own language about how rude and strange humans were.

Bones damn near killed himself laughing into his fist.

“Stop,” Kirk said.

Bones turned around so his back was to the crowd and smiled at him with tear-wet eyes because he was still trying to be quiet even while he was laughing. “Maybe you just better keep on flirting,” he said at last, “we can’t exactly afford you starting diplomatic incidents.”

“Make up your mind,” Kirk said back.

There was a strange look—that kind of look that Bones gave Spock that meant that he loved him. Bones decided that at the strangest times: while Spock nibbled on vegetables or rattled off pointless facts about pointless things about some culture that nobody else had ever heard of. Then Bones was leaning over to set his glass down on a table. “Alright, dance with me.”

Kirk laughed then. “I’m not dancing with you.”

“You’re my God-damn husband and you’re going to God-damn dance with me,” Bones told him. He took his hand without waiting for another word of agreement and pulled him toward the small dance floor.

“I think I should lead,” Kirk said when they got there. His statement was ignored as his hand was pushed up to rest on Bones’ shoulder. It took a minute to get themselves in position and for Bones to ignore him until he figured that they both knew which way they were going. The first was feet over toes because they both went the wrong way. “You know what you’re doing?”

“Follow me,” Bones said, “I step forward, you step back.” That time, when they moved—it worked.

There they were, like they were really married, dancing to the soft-toned music in front of the strange eyes that just didn’t know what to make of it. Bones pulled him closer (he looked like the sort that liked dancing so close you weren’t really dancing but drifting) and smiled at him in that same stupid way that meant I love you.

“What’s Spock think of this?” Kirk asked.

Bones shrugged all one-sided. “He’s not angry about it.” The music was dying down and Kirk wasn’t entirely sure why that was so disappointing. Bones’ hand was moving up his arm to touch his face and then they were kissing like teenagers at prom that couldn’t control themselves.

Only it was sweet. Kirk smiled into it, “you’re such a girl.”