Fic Post: Adaptations
Title: Adaptations
Fandom: STXI
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/Spock established, Bones
Word Count: 3,610
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: What starts as simple stomach cramps turns into something far greater for Jim and Spock.
Warnings: Hinting towards future mpreg
Author's Notes: Written for this prompt at the st_xi_kink_meme.
It started that morning, far too early for Jim’s liking. He was jolted from his sleep at 0500 by a fleeting pain in his gut. It was dull, but harsh and pulsing, like someone had given him a dose of morphine before deciding to rearrange his intestines. Not that he really knew how that felt, but after a few close calls on planet, he was sure he had a general idea. Just as soon as it had come, it was gone, leaving him feeling tender and feverish.
A soft grunt beside him had Jim realizing that he wasn’t the one who was actually in pain. On a normal day, he would have taken the time to marvel at just how strong his bond with Spock was. But it was Spock, the stronger, more durable of the pair that was in pain and Jim’s wonder was being overthrown by worry.
He opened his eyes once more, sitting up and looking over at his bondmate. Spock lay curled in on himself beside him, facing the wall, an arm draped around his midsection. The only indicator that the man was in any discomfort was the tense line between his shoulder blades. Frowning, Jim reached over, resting his hand lightly over Spock’s.
“Cramp or nausea?” He asked, trying to clear the gruff husk of sleep and replace it with one of concern.
“I believe it is a cramp,” Spock replied, his words softer and slower than usual.
Jim flinched as another wave of discomfort traveled across their bond. “Feels like a doozy,” he mumbled. If it was bothering him that much, he could only imagine how strong it felt for Spock. “How long’ve you had it?”
“It began to bother me during dinner last night. I was under the impression it was due to the overabundance of oil the replicator prefers to put into our meals. However, it seems my theory was incorrect.” Spock rolled slowly onto his back, looking down at his bare stomach as he rubbed a bit harder. “It feels muscular in origin, yet in a very unfamiliar pattern.”
“Like someone’s pushing your gut around?” A thin line of worry formed between Jim’s brows and his blue eyes dart over the other’s body as he spoke.
“I suppose that would be the best way to describe it, yes,” Spock nodded once, his own brows knitting together as well.
Jim slid back down in bed, draping his arm over the other’s stomach, fingers stroking his forearm lightly. “Maybe you should take tomorrow off.”
Spock shook his head, his body visibly relaxing underneath Jim’s touch. “I do not believe that is necessary, Jim. It is only a minor discomfort and will in no way effect my work.”
However, the head willingly tucking itself beneath the other’s chin lead Jim to believe that this discomfort was a bit more than Spock was leading on. Jim knew better than to question his bondmate, though, so he simply shrugged and wrapped his arms around him, holding the warm body close to his. If the other wanted physical comfort, he sure as hell wasn’t going to push him away.
“If you say so.”
---
The conversation had been left at that and they continued on with their day as usual. Throughout the day, Jim could feel the muted pain, but quick glances towards the science station assured him that Spock was right. Save for a couple deep green rings below his eyes, he appeared as he always did, stoically curious of the Enterprise’s activities and findings.
Shortly after lunch, however, things began to feel different for Jim. As he stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge, searing pain in his abdomen had him doubled over. He clutched at the wall, jaw clamped as he tried hard to keep the lunch he’d just eaten from crawling back up his throat. His head throbbed and he felt as if his heart would burst in his chest, thrashing wildly against his sternum.
And then it was gone, leaving nothing but the sounds of liquid hitting a linoleum floor and a loud thud.
Jim’s head spun to the science station, where Spock lay unconscious beside a puddle of what looked like had once been plomeek soup and French bread. A slightly queasy looking Sulu and a terrified Chekov were already at his side, the young ensign rolling Spock onto his side.
“Move!” He cried out, wedging his way in between the two. Jim brushed some hair from Spock’s warm and too-pale forehead, searching for any bumps or bruises. All they needed was a concussion on top of whatever was causing this mess in the first place. “Chekov, get Bones!”
“Aye, Captain!”
---
“Jim, I must insist you return to the bridge. I am entirely capable of withstanding a medical examination on my own.”
Spock had regained consciousness shortly after being set on the ant-gravity stretcher, where he had promptly rolled onto his side and vomited on Bones’ shoes. The entire way to Sickbay, while Bones cursed under his breath, Spock had struggled to convince Jim to return to the bridge, but his bondmate was having nothing of it.
“Remember that “in sickness and in health” schpeal I said when we bonded?” Jim’s hand ran over Spock’s stomach idly and the other nodded once. “Well, I don’t care if it’s just a head cold, I’m not going anywhere.”
“It is illogical to abandon your duties as Captain over something as trivial as the rhinovirus. Which I am unable to become infected with in the first place,” Spock sighed and folded his hands, resting them on his chest.
“See, now you’re just being a smart ass,” Jim rolled his eyes. “And while I’m proud of you for it, I’m serious. You’re sick, I’m here. It’s as simple as that…”
He smirked to himself and stilled his hand over Spock’s stomach. “Besides, do you really want me to stop?”
Spock’s lips pursed together in a thin, thoughtful line and his stern face relaxed slightly. “Your ministration is surprisingly comforting. I believe Lieutenant Sulu is more than capable of overseeing the bridge until my dismissal.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jim laughed lightly and leaned down, pressing his lips to Spock’s forehead when Bones stepped out of the room.
The doctor reappeared with a tricorder in hand and a new pair of shoes, though he still looked as disgruntled as ever.
“I can’t believe this. Stomach cramps for twelve hours and not even a notice to me? I expect this bullshit out of Jim, but I’m surprised with you, Bat Boy,” Bones knit his brows and turned the machine on, shaking his head. “Let’s see what’s going on, huh?”
Spock unfurled his hands, laying his arms straight at his side, Jim crossing his own arms over his chest. He leaned back in his chair, watching as Bones ran the tricorder up his bondmate’s form, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He should have put his foot down, should have forced Spock to take the day off. He never took ill, especially not like this.
“Huh…” Bones pursed his lips together, a perplexed look crossing his face. “Well, that can’t be right.”
“What’s up?” Jim asked, probably a little too quickly.
From his spot on the bed, Spock lift his eyes to Jim before looking calmly at the doctor. Bones shook his head and set the tricorder down.
“Nothing, machine’s acting up. Let me grab another one. Chapel, can you get me another tricorder? This one’s on the fritz,” he looked over his shoulder to his head nurse, who nodded and quickly exchanged one for the other.
Alright. Fine. Tricorders messed up now and then. Nothing for Jim to get too concerned over. But then Bones got that face again.
“Bones, what’s up?” His voice was a little too panicked for his liking, but damn it, he was getting scared.
Spock reached a hand up to rest on Jim’s knee, squeezing gently and Jim could hear his voice in his head.
‘Please calm yourself, t’hy’la. We do not need you worrying yourself ill.’
Jim nodded and chewed on his lower lip, resting his hand over his bondmate’s. Bones sighed softly and set the tricorder on the tray beside him, leaning over and tugging an ultrasound machine towards the biobed.
“It’s giving me a weird readout. I just want to run a quick scan and see for myself, alright?” His usual bite was gone, a look of genuine concern in his hazel eyes.
It made Jim’s blood run cold and he could feel Spock’s heart begin to race. “Okay. Alright…”
He looked down at his bondmate, whose gaze was deadlocked on the view screen. Jim looked over as well, squinting his eyes to see through the murky image. He could make out his partner’s heart, thumping wildly beneath gently shifting lungs. As Bones moved his paddle lower against Spock’s abdomen, Jim began to notice something off. He could make out the shape of Spock’s intestines, of his stomach, but there was something… off about it.
Nestled just to the right of Spock’s liver was a small mass. Two small appendages stuck out on either side of the mass, ending in spindly finger-looking things. The thin, waving finger-things stretched out around small, spherical objects which Jim first mistook as kidneys. But, no, kidneys didn’t sit there.
“Doctor,” Spock’s voice was small, far quieter than Jim had ever hoped to hear. If there was fear in his tone, both the Doctor and Jim chose to ignore it. “Please tell me what that is.”
The bondmates looked up at Bones, who shook his head in disbelief. “I… I have no idea where to begin, you guys.” Leaning back in his chair, ran his fingers through his hair, sighing shortly. “Spock, that’s… those are reproductive organs. Female reproductive organs. You’ve been having abdominal pain because they’ve been shifting around to make room.”
It was a fairly simple explanation, just as Spock had wanted. No matter how Bones worded it, however, all three of them knew this was far from simple.
“Excuse me?” Jim leaned closer to the view screen, poking at the image. No way. No fucking way.
“The first scan seriously came back with “premenstrual syndrome” as a diagnosis,” Bones gave a snort of a laugh, shaking his head. “And then the second one did, too. The probability of two tricorders having the same glitch is astronomically low, so I brought this thing up.” He pat the back of the sonogram machine, shaking his head. “And… well, you can see it all. Uterus, fallopian tubes, ovaries. They’re small, but they’re growing.”
Spock’s eyes blinked quickly, taking a moment to process what the Doctor was saying. He seemed to be taking the news quite well. Jim, however, looked about ready to pass out. He slumped back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his ashen face.
“So Spock’s turning int-”
“His DNA is still entirely male, it’s just adding the extra parts,” Bones shook his head, unable to help but roll his eyes at the absurdity of Jim’s statement. He turned the machine off, standing up and stretching. “However, his estrogen levels have increased, which makes me believe-”
“That I am fertile.” Whatever fear Spock had once carried in his words was gone. Instead, each airy uttering dripped with awe, unable to believe what was going on with his body.
“Exactly,” Bones smiled at his First Officer before heading over to the sink. He filled a plastic cup up with water before returning, setting the glass in Jim’s hands. “Drink this and stay seated. Can't have you conking out on me right now.”
Jim brought the glass to his parched lips and took a long sip, emptying it. He set it down on the tray beside the discarded tricorder, looking between his friend and his lover with wide, nervous eyes. “Is this normal for Vulcans? Y’know, like the hand-sex thing?”
“I… Never mind,” Bones scrunched his face, shaking his head quickly. He walked over to Sickbay’s front desk, picking up a PADD and tapping at the screen. “No, it’s certainly not normal, but I’ve seen this before…”
He sat back down in his chair, scrolling down at the screen. “Scientists on Earth detected the anomaly in certain species of fish and frogs hundreds of years ago. Now, bear with me here, I’ve got a theory, but I’m just kind of talking as it’s coming to me, alright? When the populations of those species gets low, their bodies release the hormones necessary to change their gender. It’s nature’s way of preventing extinction. Now, with what happened to Vulcan, it… Well…”
Bones bit on his lower lip and Jim’s heart sank. Beside them, Spock’s posture stiffened, his eyes sliding shut. Two years had passed since that day, but they all knew it stung like a fresh wound.
Jim slid his hand over Spock’s, lacing their fingers together. He slid his own eyes shut, silently asking Spock permission to tune in. Soon, he was following Spock as he sifted through memories of that day, through research he’d conducted in biology classes long ago, and through the complex equations the Vulcan was using in an attempt to understand this insane and improbable chain of events.
After a solid five minutes or so, Spock’s eyes opened once more.
“It is an entirely logical theory. In an effort to bring Vulcan’s numbers back to an acceptable level, our bodies are taking all the steps necessary to ensure that we are all able to reproduce. It is a method of self-preservation. Fascinating, really.”
---
Bones sent Jim and Spock away with a care package of heating pads, painkilling hypos, and the recommendation of warm baths. Spock’s first order of business once returning to their shared quarters was to contact his father for further details.
Apparently, Bones’ theory was correct. All over the relocation planet, Vulcan males were reporting similar health issues and examinations yielded identical results. Sarek requested direct communication with the doctor, and as Spock transferred the call over, Jim had a feeling Federation accolade would soon come Bones’ way. He deserved it, this was an amazing discovery.
The two men lay in their bed that night much as they had the night before. Spock faced the wall, his back pressed to Jim’s chest while the Captain’s hand trailed in listless circles over his abdomen. While the pain hypo had worked well, he was still tired from the ordeal. Jim found himself relaxed by the touch as well, taking this time to fully process the day’s events.
Spock was fertile. Spock could get pregnant.
“Holy shit,” Jim mumbled, shaking his head slowly.
Spock’s body tensed against his and the older man rolled to lie down on his back. He rest his large hands over his stomach, allowing his fingers to brush against Jim’s. When Jim looked up, his heart clenched at the uncertainty written on Spock’s face. “Jim, does this new information disturb you?”
Jim knew what Spock was really asking. He could feel the fear pulse across their bond, racing just as fast as his lover’s heartbeat. Leaning down, Jim pressed a kiss to the top of Spock’s head, lacing their fingers together.
“Well…” He cleared his throat and shook his head a little. “It certainly wasn’t what I’d expected when we rolled into Sickbay. And it’s definitely going to take some getting used to.” Jim gave a half-shrug, sliding his thumb over the back of Spock’s hand. “But I’m not going anywhere, okay? Those vows, y’know?”
Spock nodded once, but the tense lines of worry remained between his brows. Jim tilt his head to the side, his full lips pouting slightly. He squeezed the other’s hand, trying to tap into that connection they’d had in Sickbay earlier, but Spock wasn’t budging.
“If you won’t let me see, will you at least tell me what’s on your mind?” He chuckled, reaching up to brush the sweat-damp strands of hair from Spock’s forehead.
Spock visibly relaxed under his lover’s touch, nodding once. “Forgive me, Jim. I wish to discuss my… my predicament out loud, if that is acceptable with you.”
“Yeah,” Jim nodded quickly, sitting up in bed. “Of course, go ahead.”
He rest a hand on Spock’s back, helping him sit up as well. Spock leaned back against the mound of pillows, grabbing one and resting it in his lap as he spoke. “I have long compared the milestones in our relationship to those of the heterosexual relationships we previously engaged in before our bonding. At this point in the relationship, a primary concern is if and when to have children. Now that we are aware of my ability to conceive, I believe we need to have the same discussion.”
Spock cast a sideways glance at Jim, an eyebrow arching delicately. Jim nodded slowly, reaching up and rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he let out a long breath. “So you’re asking me if I want kids.”
“Yes. Do you desire to father children?”
Jim slumped down in bed a bit, taking Spock’s pillow from his lap and hugging it against his chest. He rest his chin on the soft corner, giving a small half-shrug. “Honestly, it’s never crossed my mind. I mean, before you came around, I never saw myself settling down long enough to have kids. But after today…”
He nodded once, tentatively, chewing on his lower lip. With another, more confident nod, he looked up at Spock, a smile breaking the bundle of nerves that contorted his roguish features. “Yeah. The idea of kids sounds pretty awesome, actually. And, y’know, knowing that they’d be half you makes it all the more enticing..”
“I had also not put much stock into the thought of having children of my own. I had always assumed that my hybrid status would leave me sterile.”
Jim watched as Spock’s gaze slid to his stomach, his pale, lithe fingers tracing the dips and curves of his abdominal muscles. He knew their heads were in the same place, imagining how his body would change during a pregnancy, how that same, flat stomach could someday swell with life. Their life.
Smiling, Jim reached his hand out, resting it over Spock’s. “Seems like it would be a waste to let such an opportunity pass us by, huh?”
Spock inclined his head, wiggling his fingers to brush them against the palm of Jim’s hand. “I agree.”
Jim wiggled the arm between them free, reaching around to wrap it around Spock’s back. Hooking his hand against the other’s side, he pulled his partner closer, kissing his temple. “So, we’ve gotten the “if” out of the way. Now we should start talking about the “when”, right?”
“Correct,” Spock shift in his spot, tilting his body so he could recline against Jim and look at his bondmate’s face simultaneously. “I would be comfortable and ready to begin having children now. However, this is not a decision that is to be made on my own. Your opinion and thoughts are very important.”
The two fell silent, simply looking at each other as Jim let this mull over in his mind. His lower lip found its way between his teeth, his blue eyes narrowing as he lost himself deeper within his thoughts. Spock was right; it wasn’t a decision to be made by one of them alone.
How was he supposed to make this sort of a decision, anyway? Up until six hours ago, he wasn’t even aware he could make this decision. It amazed him how Spock had just been able to accept this change, to be so certain so soon about his readiness. Perhaps he saw it as his purpose, the logical direction to take.
Well, logic was never Jim’s strong point.
Beside him, Spock had busied himself with smoothing creases from their blanket, picking at invisible lint, trying his damned hardest to appear as if this whole situation wasn’t a complete mind-fuck to him. He was almost succeeding. Jim cleared his throat and he looked up, dark eyes wide with anticipation.
“I…” Jim swallowed heavily, nodding once. “I’m pretty sure I’m ready to be a dad. I could totally do it right now, would welcome it, to be honest.” He shrugged his shoulders, watching Spock’s form move with their rise and fall. “However, I’m not exactly sure a starship is the best place to start a family. Not a whole lot of room, y’know?”
Spock nodded once, resting his hand on Jim’s chest, playing with the smooth fabric of his black t-shirt. “Yes. An infant would also require a certain level of stability that we are unable to provide at the present time.”
“Exactly. We’ve still got three years left on this mission. That gives us plenty of time to plan this out. We can get a house back in San Francisco or New Vulcan or wherever, make sure we have enough room, all the right equipment,” Jim listed everything off on his fingers. For the first time in his life, he took comfort in creating a list, a plan.
“I believe that is the right course of action, Jim.”
Sighing happily, Jim nodded one last time. He slid farther down on the bed, laying against his pillows and pulling Spock against his chest. Their legs intertwined beneath their crisp sheets and Spock’s head found that safe little spot beneath Jim’s chin. Wrapping his arms tighter around his bondmate, Jim buried his nose in the soft, obsidian strands.
“I really am happy about this. It's kind of a mind-fuck, but it's amazing. Really. I love you, Spock.”
“And I, you, t’hy’la. Sleep well.”
And with one last swipe of his fingers against Spock’s, Jim allowed the day to win and sleep to wash over him.
Fandom: STXI
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/Spock established, Bones
Word Count: 3,610
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: What starts as simple stomach cramps turns into something far greater for Jim and Spock.
Warnings: Hinting towards future mpreg
Author's Notes: Written for this prompt at the st_xi_kink_meme.
It started that morning, far too early for Jim’s liking. He was jolted from his sleep at 0500 by a fleeting pain in his gut. It was dull, but harsh and pulsing, like someone had given him a dose of morphine before deciding to rearrange his intestines. Not that he really knew how that felt, but after a few close calls on planet, he was sure he had a general idea. Just as soon as it had come, it was gone, leaving him feeling tender and feverish.
A soft grunt beside him had Jim realizing that he wasn’t the one who was actually in pain. On a normal day, he would have taken the time to marvel at just how strong his bond with Spock was. But it was Spock, the stronger, more durable of the pair that was in pain and Jim’s wonder was being overthrown by worry.
He opened his eyes once more, sitting up and looking over at his bondmate. Spock lay curled in on himself beside him, facing the wall, an arm draped around his midsection. The only indicator that the man was in any discomfort was the tense line between his shoulder blades. Frowning, Jim reached over, resting his hand lightly over Spock’s.
“Cramp or nausea?” He asked, trying to clear the gruff husk of sleep and replace it with one of concern.
“I believe it is a cramp,” Spock replied, his words softer and slower than usual.
Jim flinched as another wave of discomfort traveled across their bond. “Feels like a doozy,” he mumbled. If it was bothering him that much, he could only imagine how strong it felt for Spock. “How long’ve you had it?”
“It began to bother me during dinner last night. I was under the impression it was due to the overabundance of oil the replicator prefers to put into our meals. However, it seems my theory was incorrect.” Spock rolled slowly onto his back, looking down at his bare stomach as he rubbed a bit harder. “It feels muscular in origin, yet in a very unfamiliar pattern.”
“Like someone’s pushing your gut around?” A thin line of worry formed between Jim’s brows and his blue eyes dart over the other’s body as he spoke.
“I suppose that would be the best way to describe it, yes,” Spock nodded once, his own brows knitting together as well.
Jim slid back down in bed, draping his arm over the other’s stomach, fingers stroking his forearm lightly. “Maybe you should take tomorrow off.”
Spock shook his head, his body visibly relaxing underneath Jim’s touch. “I do not believe that is necessary, Jim. It is only a minor discomfort and will in no way effect my work.”
However, the head willingly tucking itself beneath the other’s chin lead Jim to believe that this discomfort was a bit more than Spock was leading on. Jim knew better than to question his bondmate, though, so he simply shrugged and wrapped his arms around him, holding the warm body close to his. If the other wanted physical comfort, he sure as hell wasn’t going to push him away.
“If you say so.”
---
The conversation had been left at that and they continued on with their day as usual. Throughout the day, Jim could feel the muted pain, but quick glances towards the science station assured him that Spock was right. Save for a couple deep green rings below his eyes, he appeared as he always did, stoically curious of the Enterprise’s activities and findings.
Shortly after lunch, however, things began to feel different for Jim. As he stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge, searing pain in his abdomen had him doubled over. He clutched at the wall, jaw clamped as he tried hard to keep the lunch he’d just eaten from crawling back up his throat. His head throbbed and he felt as if his heart would burst in his chest, thrashing wildly against his sternum.
And then it was gone, leaving nothing but the sounds of liquid hitting a linoleum floor and a loud thud.
Jim’s head spun to the science station, where Spock lay unconscious beside a puddle of what looked like had once been plomeek soup and French bread. A slightly queasy looking Sulu and a terrified Chekov were already at his side, the young ensign rolling Spock onto his side.
“Move!” He cried out, wedging his way in between the two. Jim brushed some hair from Spock’s warm and too-pale forehead, searching for any bumps or bruises. All they needed was a concussion on top of whatever was causing this mess in the first place. “Chekov, get Bones!”
“Aye, Captain!”
---
“Jim, I must insist you return to the bridge. I am entirely capable of withstanding a medical examination on my own.”
Spock had regained consciousness shortly after being set on the ant-gravity stretcher, where he had promptly rolled onto his side and vomited on Bones’ shoes. The entire way to Sickbay, while Bones cursed under his breath, Spock had struggled to convince Jim to return to the bridge, but his bondmate was having nothing of it.
“Remember that “in sickness and in health” schpeal I said when we bonded?” Jim’s hand ran over Spock’s stomach idly and the other nodded once. “Well, I don’t care if it’s just a head cold, I’m not going anywhere.”
“It is illogical to abandon your duties as Captain over something as trivial as the rhinovirus. Which I am unable to become infected with in the first place,” Spock sighed and folded his hands, resting them on his chest.
“See, now you’re just being a smart ass,” Jim rolled his eyes. “And while I’m proud of you for it, I’m serious. You’re sick, I’m here. It’s as simple as that…”
He smirked to himself and stilled his hand over Spock’s stomach. “Besides, do you really want me to stop?”
Spock’s lips pursed together in a thin, thoughtful line and his stern face relaxed slightly. “Your ministration is surprisingly comforting. I believe Lieutenant Sulu is more than capable of overseeing the bridge until my dismissal.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jim laughed lightly and leaned down, pressing his lips to Spock’s forehead when Bones stepped out of the room.
The doctor reappeared with a tricorder in hand and a new pair of shoes, though he still looked as disgruntled as ever.
“I can’t believe this. Stomach cramps for twelve hours and not even a notice to me? I expect this bullshit out of Jim, but I’m surprised with you, Bat Boy,” Bones knit his brows and turned the machine on, shaking his head. “Let’s see what’s going on, huh?”
Spock unfurled his hands, laying his arms straight at his side, Jim crossing his own arms over his chest. He leaned back in his chair, watching as Bones ran the tricorder up his bondmate’s form, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He should have put his foot down, should have forced Spock to take the day off. He never took ill, especially not like this.
“Huh…” Bones pursed his lips together, a perplexed look crossing his face. “Well, that can’t be right.”
“What’s up?” Jim asked, probably a little too quickly.
From his spot on the bed, Spock lift his eyes to Jim before looking calmly at the doctor. Bones shook his head and set the tricorder down.
“Nothing, machine’s acting up. Let me grab another one. Chapel, can you get me another tricorder? This one’s on the fritz,” he looked over his shoulder to his head nurse, who nodded and quickly exchanged one for the other.
Alright. Fine. Tricorders messed up now and then. Nothing for Jim to get too concerned over. But then Bones got that face again.
“Bones, what’s up?” His voice was a little too panicked for his liking, but damn it, he was getting scared.
Spock reached a hand up to rest on Jim’s knee, squeezing gently and Jim could hear his voice in his head.
‘Please calm yourself, t’hy’la. We do not need you worrying yourself ill.’
Jim nodded and chewed on his lower lip, resting his hand over his bondmate’s. Bones sighed softly and set the tricorder on the tray beside him, leaning over and tugging an ultrasound machine towards the biobed.
“It’s giving me a weird readout. I just want to run a quick scan and see for myself, alright?” His usual bite was gone, a look of genuine concern in his hazel eyes.
It made Jim’s blood run cold and he could feel Spock’s heart begin to race. “Okay. Alright…”
He looked down at his bondmate, whose gaze was deadlocked on the view screen. Jim looked over as well, squinting his eyes to see through the murky image. He could make out his partner’s heart, thumping wildly beneath gently shifting lungs. As Bones moved his paddle lower against Spock’s abdomen, Jim began to notice something off. He could make out the shape of Spock’s intestines, of his stomach, but there was something… off about it.
Nestled just to the right of Spock’s liver was a small mass. Two small appendages stuck out on either side of the mass, ending in spindly finger-looking things. The thin, waving finger-things stretched out around small, spherical objects which Jim first mistook as kidneys. But, no, kidneys didn’t sit there.
“Doctor,” Spock’s voice was small, far quieter than Jim had ever hoped to hear. If there was fear in his tone, both the Doctor and Jim chose to ignore it. “Please tell me what that is.”
The bondmates looked up at Bones, who shook his head in disbelief. “I… I have no idea where to begin, you guys.” Leaning back in his chair, ran his fingers through his hair, sighing shortly. “Spock, that’s… those are reproductive organs. Female reproductive organs. You’ve been having abdominal pain because they’ve been shifting around to make room.”
It was a fairly simple explanation, just as Spock had wanted. No matter how Bones worded it, however, all three of them knew this was far from simple.
“Excuse me?” Jim leaned closer to the view screen, poking at the image. No way. No fucking way.
“The first scan seriously came back with “premenstrual syndrome” as a diagnosis,” Bones gave a snort of a laugh, shaking his head. “And then the second one did, too. The probability of two tricorders having the same glitch is astronomically low, so I brought this thing up.” He pat the back of the sonogram machine, shaking his head. “And… well, you can see it all. Uterus, fallopian tubes, ovaries. They’re small, but they’re growing.”
Spock’s eyes blinked quickly, taking a moment to process what the Doctor was saying. He seemed to be taking the news quite well. Jim, however, looked about ready to pass out. He slumped back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his ashen face.
“So Spock’s turning int-”
“His DNA is still entirely male, it’s just adding the extra parts,” Bones shook his head, unable to help but roll his eyes at the absurdity of Jim’s statement. He turned the machine off, standing up and stretching. “However, his estrogen levels have increased, which makes me believe-”
“That I am fertile.” Whatever fear Spock had once carried in his words was gone. Instead, each airy uttering dripped with awe, unable to believe what was going on with his body.
“Exactly,” Bones smiled at his First Officer before heading over to the sink. He filled a plastic cup up with water before returning, setting the glass in Jim’s hands. “Drink this and stay seated. Can't have you conking out on me right now.”
Jim brought the glass to his parched lips and took a long sip, emptying it. He set it down on the tray beside the discarded tricorder, looking between his friend and his lover with wide, nervous eyes. “Is this normal for Vulcans? Y’know, like the hand-sex thing?”
“I… Never mind,” Bones scrunched his face, shaking his head quickly. He walked over to Sickbay’s front desk, picking up a PADD and tapping at the screen. “No, it’s certainly not normal, but I’ve seen this before…”
He sat back down in his chair, scrolling down at the screen. “Scientists on Earth detected the anomaly in certain species of fish and frogs hundreds of years ago. Now, bear with me here, I’ve got a theory, but I’m just kind of talking as it’s coming to me, alright? When the populations of those species gets low, their bodies release the hormones necessary to change their gender. It’s nature’s way of preventing extinction. Now, with what happened to Vulcan, it… Well…”
Bones bit on his lower lip and Jim’s heart sank. Beside them, Spock’s posture stiffened, his eyes sliding shut. Two years had passed since that day, but they all knew it stung like a fresh wound.
Jim slid his hand over Spock’s, lacing their fingers together. He slid his own eyes shut, silently asking Spock permission to tune in. Soon, he was following Spock as he sifted through memories of that day, through research he’d conducted in biology classes long ago, and through the complex equations the Vulcan was using in an attempt to understand this insane and improbable chain of events.
After a solid five minutes or so, Spock’s eyes opened once more.
“It is an entirely logical theory. In an effort to bring Vulcan’s numbers back to an acceptable level, our bodies are taking all the steps necessary to ensure that we are all able to reproduce. It is a method of self-preservation. Fascinating, really.”
---
Bones sent Jim and Spock away with a care package of heating pads, painkilling hypos, and the recommendation of warm baths. Spock’s first order of business once returning to their shared quarters was to contact his father for further details.
Apparently, Bones’ theory was correct. All over the relocation planet, Vulcan males were reporting similar health issues and examinations yielded identical results. Sarek requested direct communication with the doctor, and as Spock transferred the call over, Jim had a feeling Federation accolade would soon come Bones’ way. He deserved it, this was an amazing discovery.
The two men lay in their bed that night much as they had the night before. Spock faced the wall, his back pressed to Jim’s chest while the Captain’s hand trailed in listless circles over his abdomen. While the pain hypo had worked well, he was still tired from the ordeal. Jim found himself relaxed by the touch as well, taking this time to fully process the day’s events.
Spock was fertile. Spock could get pregnant.
“Holy shit,” Jim mumbled, shaking his head slowly.
Spock’s body tensed against his and the older man rolled to lie down on his back. He rest his large hands over his stomach, allowing his fingers to brush against Jim’s. When Jim looked up, his heart clenched at the uncertainty written on Spock’s face. “Jim, does this new information disturb you?”
Jim knew what Spock was really asking. He could feel the fear pulse across their bond, racing just as fast as his lover’s heartbeat. Leaning down, Jim pressed a kiss to the top of Spock’s head, lacing their fingers together.
“Well…” He cleared his throat and shook his head a little. “It certainly wasn’t what I’d expected when we rolled into Sickbay. And it’s definitely going to take some getting used to.” Jim gave a half-shrug, sliding his thumb over the back of Spock’s hand. “But I’m not going anywhere, okay? Those vows, y’know?”
Spock nodded once, but the tense lines of worry remained between his brows. Jim tilt his head to the side, his full lips pouting slightly. He squeezed the other’s hand, trying to tap into that connection they’d had in Sickbay earlier, but Spock wasn’t budging.
“If you won’t let me see, will you at least tell me what’s on your mind?” He chuckled, reaching up to brush the sweat-damp strands of hair from Spock’s forehead.
Spock visibly relaxed under his lover’s touch, nodding once. “Forgive me, Jim. I wish to discuss my… my predicament out loud, if that is acceptable with you.”
“Yeah,” Jim nodded quickly, sitting up in bed. “Of course, go ahead.”
He rest a hand on Spock’s back, helping him sit up as well. Spock leaned back against the mound of pillows, grabbing one and resting it in his lap as he spoke. “I have long compared the milestones in our relationship to those of the heterosexual relationships we previously engaged in before our bonding. At this point in the relationship, a primary concern is if and when to have children. Now that we are aware of my ability to conceive, I believe we need to have the same discussion.”
Spock cast a sideways glance at Jim, an eyebrow arching delicately. Jim nodded slowly, reaching up and rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he let out a long breath. “So you’re asking me if I want kids.”
“Yes. Do you desire to father children?”
Jim slumped down in bed a bit, taking Spock’s pillow from his lap and hugging it against his chest. He rest his chin on the soft corner, giving a small half-shrug. “Honestly, it’s never crossed my mind. I mean, before you came around, I never saw myself settling down long enough to have kids. But after today…”
He nodded once, tentatively, chewing on his lower lip. With another, more confident nod, he looked up at Spock, a smile breaking the bundle of nerves that contorted his roguish features. “Yeah. The idea of kids sounds pretty awesome, actually. And, y’know, knowing that they’d be half you makes it all the more enticing..”
“I had also not put much stock into the thought of having children of my own. I had always assumed that my hybrid status would leave me sterile.”
Jim watched as Spock’s gaze slid to his stomach, his pale, lithe fingers tracing the dips and curves of his abdominal muscles. He knew their heads were in the same place, imagining how his body would change during a pregnancy, how that same, flat stomach could someday swell with life. Their life.
Smiling, Jim reached his hand out, resting it over Spock’s. “Seems like it would be a waste to let such an opportunity pass us by, huh?”
Spock inclined his head, wiggling his fingers to brush them against the palm of Jim’s hand. “I agree.”
Jim wiggled the arm between them free, reaching around to wrap it around Spock’s back. Hooking his hand against the other’s side, he pulled his partner closer, kissing his temple. “So, we’ve gotten the “if” out of the way. Now we should start talking about the “when”, right?”
“Correct,” Spock shift in his spot, tilting his body so he could recline against Jim and look at his bondmate’s face simultaneously. “I would be comfortable and ready to begin having children now. However, this is not a decision that is to be made on my own. Your opinion and thoughts are very important.”
The two fell silent, simply looking at each other as Jim let this mull over in his mind. His lower lip found its way between his teeth, his blue eyes narrowing as he lost himself deeper within his thoughts. Spock was right; it wasn’t a decision to be made by one of them alone.
How was he supposed to make this sort of a decision, anyway? Up until six hours ago, he wasn’t even aware he could make this decision. It amazed him how Spock had just been able to accept this change, to be so certain so soon about his readiness. Perhaps he saw it as his purpose, the logical direction to take.
Well, logic was never Jim’s strong point.
Beside him, Spock had busied himself with smoothing creases from their blanket, picking at invisible lint, trying his damned hardest to appear as if this whole situation wasn’t a complete mind-fuck to him. He was almost succeeding. Jim cleared his throat and he looked up, dark eyes wide with anticipation.
“I…” Jim swallowed heavily, nodding once. “I’m pretty sure I’m ready to be a dad. I could totally do it right now, would welcome it, to be honest.” He shrugged his shoulders, watching Spock’s form move with their rise and fall. “However, I’m not exactly sure a starship is the best place to start a family. Not a whole lot of room, y’know?”
Spock nodded once, resting his hand on Jim’s chest, playing with the smooth fabric of his black t-shirt. “Yes. An infant would also require a certain level of stability that we are unable to provide at the present time.”
“Exactly. We’ve still got three years left on this mission. That gives us plenty of time to plan this out. We can get a house back in San Francisco or New Vulcan or wherever, make sure we have enough room, all the right equipment,” Jim listed everything off on his fingers. For the first time in his life, he took comfort in creating a list, a plan.
“I believe that is the right course of action, Jim.”
Sighing happily, Jim nodded one last time. He slid farther down on the bed, laying against his pillows and pulling Spock against his chest. Their legs intertwined beneath their crisp sheets and Spock’s head found that safe little spot beneath Jim’s chin. Wrapping his arms tighter around his bondmate, Jim buried his nose in the soft, obsidian strands.
“I really am happy about this. It's kind of a mind-fuck, but it's amazing. Really. I love you, Spock.”
“And I, you, t’hy’la. Sleep well.”
And with one last swipe of his fingers against Spock’s, Jim allowed the day to win and sleep to wash over him.