The Ties That Bind - Part 1/2
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Spock wakes up the morning after a drunken sexual encounter to find that Kirk has no memory of it, he stays silent, afraid of risking their friendship. But the decision not to tell Kirk becomes more complicated when he discovers he is pregnant.
Words: ~6400/14400
Warnings: Mpreg
Notes: Written for the idfic big bang, Iddy Iddy Bang Bang.
Spock opens his eyes slowly, cautious of the pounding in his head. He stares at the ceiling, trying to discern why he feels so awful. Was he injured? Drugged?
Slowly memories of the previous night begin to return, and he closes his eyes briefly. Drugged would be not entirely inaccurate a term; the beverages served at the banquet last night were rather… potent.
He lowers his gaze and glances around the room, taking in data. He is in his bed in the guest quarters of the Bilaruvian palace, he is naked, and… Spock tenses as the full scope of the situation becomes clear.
He is not alone in the bed.
He stares down at the lump in the covers as if that will make it disappear. More memories begin to unspool behind his eyes; the wine making him relaxed and happy, the captain laughing at something he said, the two of them weaving their way back to their quarters, and then….
Spock swallows, feeling a nausea that cannot fully be blamed on the hangover. Slowly, he reaches over and pulls down the covers enough to identify his bed partner. Sure enough, his actions reveal the face of one James Kirk, still sound asleep.
Spock stares at him in dismay. His memories of last night are still sketchy, but the few he has retained, combined with his current situation, lead inescapably to the conclusion that he engaged in intimate acts with his captain.
He stares at Kirk for a long moment, then careful not to wake him, slips out of bed and hurries into the bathroom.
He stares at himself in the mirror, wondering how this could have happened. How he could have allowed this to happen.
He would be lying if he claimed that the thought never crossed his mind in the past. Kirk is a very attractive man, and Spock is certainly not immune to his charms. He has known for some time that his feelings for his friend extend beyond friendship. But acting on those feelings is an entirely different matter. Kirk is utterly devoted to his career, he has a marked preference for women, and he has shown no interest in anything besides friendship with Spock. And now Spock has broken his trust and taken advantage of him while he was intoxicated. (The fact that Spock himself was equally intoxicated barely crosses his mind.)
With a sigh, he enters the shower and begins washing away the aftereffects of their encounter. Part of him wishes that such an encounter could happen again, especially when he is better suited to remember it, but he pushes the thought down firmly. That it happened at all is bad enough. He suppresses a shudder at what Starfleet would think if they knew their most celebrated command team became intoxicated and engaged in intercourse during a mission. He is beginning to understand why such relationships are so heavily discouraged.
He has exited the shower and is drying off when it occurs to him that all his clothes are still in the other room. Slowly, nervously, he finishes drying himself, then wraps the towel securely around his waist and opens the door.
From what he can see, Kirk is still asleep, visible only as a lump in the bedcovers. Relieved, Spock moves silently over to the closet where his clothes are stored and begins to dress. Perhaps if he is quick enough he can get out of here before Kirk wakes up and avoid dealing with the situation altogether.
Unfortunately that does not prove to be the case. He is pulling on his shirt when he hears the bed shift, followed by a yawn, and knows that Kirk is awake.
He finishes donning his shirt and turns around, falling instinctively into his at attention stance, hands clasped behind his back. "Captain," he greets, as Kirk groans and rubs his temples. Spock tenses inwardly, anticipating a severely negative reaction once the events of last night sink in.
But Kirk merely blinks at him, looking vaguely confused. "Spock?" he asks. He looks around the room, frowning, then down at the bedcovers. "Isn't this your bed?" He rubs his forehead. "What happened last night?"
Mouth dry, Spock approaches the bed. "What do you remember?" he asks.
Kirk's frown deepens. "I remember… the banquet, I remember dancing…" He snorts and rubs at his forehead again. "I remember the Bilaruvians encouraging us to drink their native wine... but after that things get pretty blurry."
Spock stares at him. It appears Kirk has no memory of their activities last night. "You do not recall anything else?" he asks tentatively.
Kirk shakes his head, then winces and touches his temple. "No. I don't even remember how I got back here." He glances up at Spock. "I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"
Spock spends a second warring with his conscience over whether to tell Kirk the truth, before deciding against it. If Kirk truly does not remember, there is little point in making things awkward between them for no reason. "No," he says. "You charmed the Bilaruvians, as always, then we left the party together, came back here and went to sleep." All of which is true. Spock has become quite adept at lying with the truth over the years.
Kirk nods slowly, and the look of relief on his face tells Spock he's done the right thing. "Good," he says, then reddens suddenly. "Would you mind throwing me some underwear?" he asks. "I seem to have forgotten my pyjamas."
Spock finds a pair of boxers among Kirk's things and tosses them onto the bed. Kirk slips them on under the blankets, then hurries out of bed towards the bathroom.
Spock sits down on the bed to put on his boots, firmly suppressing the vague sense of dissatisfaction that Kirk does not remember their encounter. It is better this way. They can go on as they were, without the prospect of Spock's feelings ruining their friendship.
He finishes dressing and prepares to face the day.
* * *
Several weeks later, Spock wakes up at the sound of his alarm, and it takes all his strength not to just roll over and go back to sleep. He cannot remember the last time he was so tired, especially as he made sure to go to bed early the previous evening. He hopes he is not becoming ill.
The tiredness doesn't fade, but it isn't joined by any other symptoms. Spock assumes he merely needs more rest. As Kirk would tell him, even Vulcans are not invincible.
Kirk still shows no signs of remembering their… interlude, although Spock has. Or, at least, he has had a few rather vivid dreams that he suspects were not truly dreams. They all involve Kirk touching him, stroking him, pressing inside him, and leading them both to climax. Spock wakes from these dreams fiercely aroused, and in one case to the discovery that he reached orgasm in his sleep.
At times like that he wishes he did not remember either. It was easier, before, to accept that he would never have what he craved, easier to accept Kirk's friendship and not wish for more. Now that he knows what it is he is missing, it is almost impossible, and part of him aches with the wanting.
It is difficult to work with Kirk every day, and even more difficult to spend time together off duty without thinking about what may have happened between them, and how much he wants it to happen again. He nearly starts avoiding Kirk just to make it easier on himself, but his friend would surely notice and wonder what was wrong. Knowing Kirk, he would likely even assume he had done something to offend Spock and blame himself for Spock's weakness.
So Spock tries to continue on as normal, ignoring the ache in his heart and the tiredness that dogs his every move. That works for approximately three weeks before things take a turn for the worse.
* * *
Spock is on the bridge, running scans and working on the write up of a recent experiment when he begins to feel unwell; dizzy and nauseated. The nausea has crept up on him over the past few days, likely the result of some mild virus or other, but the dizziness is new, and the two together are quite unpleasant.
"Mister Spock?" Kirk's voice rings out, and Spock stands automatically. The dizziness increases dramatically, and his legs give out, sending him to the floor.
"Spock?" Kirk asks, his voice rising in concern, and Spock can hear him ordering McCoy to the bridge.
Spock raises himself carefully to a sitting position, leaning against the console and resting his head on his knees. A hand touches his shoulder and he turns to see Kirk kneeling beside him. "Are you okay?" he asks.
Spock starts to nod, then thinks better of it. "I became lightheaded," he replies. "It is wearing off now, however. I am quite able to go back to work."
"Don't give me that," Kirk replies, shaking his head. "You just nearly passed out, and you look like you're about to do it again. You're going down to sickbay and getting checked out." Spock opens his mouth to protest and Kirk adds, "That's an order."
Spock knows that there is no point arguing with Kirk when he uses that tone. "Yes, Captain," he says.
When McCoy arrives a few minutes later, he agrees with Kirk. He escorts Spock down to sickbay and settles him on a bed before scanning him with a tricorder.
"Well, there's definitely something wrong," he says. "I've never seen readings like this, even from you." He sets the tricorder aside, frowning. "Let's start from the beginning. What exactly are your symptoms?"
The desire to minimise his time in sickbay wars with the desire to know what is wrong with him, and in the end Spock opts to tell the truth. "Fatigue, nausea, and dizziness. I have also experienced vivid dreams and a slight decrease in my ability to control my emotions."
McCoy jots the list down on a PADD and frowns. "Huh," he says. "You know, if I didn't know better I'd think you were pregnant."
Pregnant. Spock freezes, the word hitting him like a tonne of bricks. The doctor is right, with his symptoms it is the most obvious solution, and his nausea doubles at the thought.
Some of what he's feeling must show on his face, because McCoy goes instantly serious. "You don't mean…" he begins.
"It is possible," Spock replies faintly.
McCoy is silent for a moment. "Well," he says eventually. "I guess I'd better run a test."
The diagnosis fits so well that Spock is completely unsurprised when the test comes back positive.
"Looks like you're about six weeks along," McCoy tells him. "Everything seems fine, far as I can tell, but you're going to have to start taking it easy." He pauses, then adds hesitantly, "That is, assuming you're planning on keeping it?"
The reminder that he has options should come as a relief to Spock. It does not. "I do not know," he replies honestly. "May I have some time to decide?"
"Of course," McCoy replies. "Take all the time you need. But I think you should tell Jim what's going on."
Spock stares at the doctor in disbelief, wondering how he could possibly know his secret. But then McCoy adds, "You know the regs as well as I do."
Of course. Regulation 52: any crewmember becoming pregnant must report the pregnancy to their superior officer at the first possible opportunity. Spock breathes a little easier at the knowledge that McCoy was speaking generally.
"I will do so," he says.
McCoy nods. "Okay, then, you're free to go." He hands Spock a bottle of pills. "Antenatal vitamins," he explains, when Spock gives him a questioning look. "Take one twice a day, and I'd advise you to start now, just in case you do decide to keep it. It'll make things easier."
Spock studies the small red pills. "Thank you, Doctor."
Pills in hand, he leaves sickbay and heads towards his quarters. It is almost 1600, which means that the captain will be coming to look for him, to see if he is all right. It is a habit of Kirk's that he has found comforting in the past, but right now he would prefer to be left alone. He has a lot of thinking to do.
Once he is safely in his quarters he stashes the vitamins on a high shelf, then sits down at his desk. Slowly he lifts a hand and places it on his still-flat stomach. It is difficult to believe there is a life growing in there.
He lowers his hand again and stares at the wall, his mind spinning. Pregnant. There is no question that it is Kirk's, of course - even if the dates did not line up exactly, he has not been intimate with anyone else in almost a year. It appears his assumptions as to the exact nature of their intercourse may have been incorrect.
Needing to move, he stands abruptly and strides over to his meditation shrine. He lights a stick of incense before dropping to his knees. Now, more than ever, he needs the peace of meditation.
It takes longer than usual to quiet his mind, something he has heard is not unusual for Vulcans in his condition. Once he has calmed himself sufficiently, he begins to review his options. There are only three he can think of; he can have the child and keep it, he can have the child and put it up for adoption, or he can request a termination.
After a moment's contemplation he rules out adoption. He does not believe he is selfless enough to give birth to a child and then give it away, and in any case finding anyone willing to adopt a mostly-human hybrid would be difficult at best. That leaves the other two options.
The logical decision would be to terminate, Spock knows. A child would interfere with his career, demanding time and energy and more affection than he is certain he is able to provide. Not to mention the strain that pregnancy and birth would inevitably put on his body.
But when he imagines going through with the procedure, something in him rebels. The foetus is a part of him, a part of Kirk, and he finds he cannot quite bring himself to destroy it.
That would leave the final option. Going through with the pregnancy, keeping the child, and raising it as his own.
He has never particularly considered becoming a father. He was told when he was young that he would not be able to have children, due to his hybrid nature. But now it has happened, against all odds, and it seems like an opportunity.
It would not be impossible, he muses. The five-year mission is ending in six months, before his due date. He could ask for reassignment to a ground posting, or even a leave of absence. Maternity leave, he thinks wryly.
One hand goes to his stomach again, almost absently. Continuing with the pregnancy may not be the logical decision, but he… feels that it is the right one.
Reaching out, he toggles the intercom. "Spock to McCoy."
The answer comes almost instantly. "McCoy here."
Spock pauses, conscious of the fact that others may be listening in. If he does not want his condition to become common knowledge he will have to choose his words carefully. "In reference to our conversation earlier," he begins, "I have decided to continue with treatment. I trust you can make the arrangements?"
"Of course," McCoy says. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone unless you ask me to."
Spock nods to himself. He and the doctor do not always see eye to eye, but he trusts McCoy not to break his word. "Thank you, Doctor," he says, and breaks the connection.
That done, he sits back in his chair and frowns. The next job will be to tell the captain, a conversation Spock is not looking forward to.
As if on cue, the door chimes. Spock takes a steadying breath before calling, "Come in."
As he was expecting, it's Kirk who comes through the door. "How are you feeling?" he asks, looking Spock up and down as if studying him for signs of illness.
"Better," Spock replies.
Kirk nods. "That's good. Did McCoy find out what was wrong with you?"
"Yes," Spock says. He swallows and adds, "Captain, I believe we need to talk." He gestures to the seat opposite. "Please, sit down."
Kirk does so, his face pale. "You're not ill, are you?" he asks.
Spock shakes his head. "Not exactly." He meets Kirk's gaze, but the warmth and concern there is too much for him and he looks away. He takes a breath and blurts out, "It appears I am pregnant."
There is silence for a long moment. Spock risks a glance at Kirk's face and sees it is blank, as if all emotion has been drained away.
"Pregnant," Kirk says eventually, as if testing the word out. "I'd ask if you were kidding, but I know you're not."
"It is possible for Vulcans," Spock tells him.
"Obviously," Kirk murmurs. He taps his fingers on the desk absently and adds, "Who's the… other parent?"
Spock opens his mouth to tell Kirk the truth, and then closes it, looking away. He cannot.
"He is not important," he says instead. "I will be raising the child on my own."
Something flickers in Kirk's eyes, and he leans forward, lowering his voice. "He didn't… assault you, did he?"
Spock feels a tiny spark of warmth at the obvious concern in his tone. "No," he says, shaking his head. "The act that lead to this pregnancy was consensual, if somewhat ill-advised."
Kirk seems to relax at his words. "Well, that's something, at least." He studies Spock, looking thoughtful. "I'm going to assume you have your own reasons for not telling whoever it is about this, so I won't try and change your mind. Just tell me one thing; was it someone on the ship?"
Spock finds himself grateful for the wording of Kirk's question. "No," he says. "It happened on a mission." It is a perfectly true statement, if a misleading one, and it seems to have the desired effect. Kirk nods.
"Okay," he says. "That's all I wanted to know." He smiles suddenly. "Anyway, I guess I should offer congratulations. I'm sure you'll make a wonderful father."
Spock clamps down hard on the surge of affection Kirk's words cause. "Thank you, Jim," he says.
"Don't mention it," Kirk replies. He pushes his chair back and rises. "And don't worry. I'll make all the arrangements." He waves a finger good naturedly. "No more landing parties for you, Mister Spock. At least I won't have to worry about you getting injured anymore."
Spock frowns. "I am not the only one who frequently becomes injured," he points out. "You must promise me to be more careful as I cannot be there to protect you."
Kirk's expression softens. "I will," he says. He lays a hand on Spock's shoulder and squeezes gently. "I'm not going to leave you to deal with this alone."
He drops his hand with a sigh, and steps back. "I should go make a start on the paperwork," he says. "Get some rest, okay?"
With that he leaves. Spock waits until the door has closed behind Kirk, then reaches up and gently places his hand over the place on his shoulder where Kirk's hand rested.
* * *
Kirk assures Spock that if there are any arrangements that would make things easier for him, he has only to ask. It is a nice thought, but one Spock makes a private resolution never to accept. Then the morning sickness kicks in.
He doesn't know what, exactly, jolts it into motion, but the ever-present nausea he has been battling for the past few weeks develops almost overnight into intense bouts of vomiting and an aversion to smells of any kind.
It quickly becomes apparent that he is going to need help, and Kirk is as good as his word. He arranges for food to be sent to Spock's quarters, so that he does not have to face the mess hall, and fields questions from the crew about Spock's sudden 'illness'. Spock knows he will eventually have to come clean about his condition, but for now he is grateful for Kirk's silence on the matter.
Still, even with Kirk's accommodations, it is difficult to keep the sickness from interfering with his duties. Spock brings it up to McCoy at his first prenatal appointment, hoping that the doctor will have some suggestions as to how to keep the nausea at bay.
Unfortunately, his advice is not particularly helpful. "There are anti-nausea medications, but I'd prefer not to give you them unless it's necessary," he tells Spock. "You could try ginger tea and crackers, that's a traditional remedy. And I can give you some wristbands, but I don't know if they'll work with your weird physiology."
Spock swallows against another surge of nausea and agrees to try the wristbands.
Other than that, his child appears to be developing well. Its blood is iron based, as they find out when Spock's own iron levels turn out upon a test to be almost non-existent. Doctor McCoy prescribes him some supplements and instructs him to take one each day with food. He makes an appointment for Spock to come back in a week and tells him that, now that Spock has decided to keep the child, they will do a full screening to make sure it is viable and, if so, that it stays that way.
That night, during his meditation, Spock searches out the foetus within him. It will be many weeks before it is developed enough to communicate with, but there is definitely something there, part of his body, yet apart from it. It is a curious feeling, but not an unpleasant one.
He tries to hold on to that sense of wonder the next morning, when an attempt at breakfast sends him rushing for the bathroom. When he has finished expelling what feels like everything he has ever eaten, he rests his forehead briefly on the edge of the toilet and reminds himself firmly why he is doing this.
"Spock?"
He snaps his head up to see Kirk crouching beside him. "Captain," he says. "I did not hear you come in."
"You were kind of busy," Kirk points out. "Are you okay?"
"I am told that this is a natural side effect of pregnancy," Spock replies. He manages to keep the frustration out of his tone, but from Kirk's look he picks up on it anyway.
"Can't McCoy give you something to help?" Kirk asks, reaching out carefully and laying a hand on Spock's back. Despite his current misery, Spock cannot help but feel a rush of warmth at the contact.
"He is reluctant to prescribe medication as there is a chance it may harm the foetus," he replies. "He did prescribe some therapeutic wristbands, but they do not appear to be working." The nausea swells again, as if attempting to confirm his words, and he swallows hard and takes a few deep breaths.
Kirk's hand moves, beginning to rub his back, and Spock cannot help but lean into it. "Does this help?" Kirk asks.
"Yes," Spock answers honestly. Concentrating, he forces down the nausea and pulls away. Kirk's touch is an indulgence he cannot allow. It will only lead to further pain later on.
"Thank you, Jim," he says. "I believe I will get dressed now."
Kirk nods, pushing himself to a standing position. "If you're sure," he replies. "But don't hesitate to call if you need anything."
"I will do so," Spock lies.
Once Kirk is gone, he makes his way over to the sink and cleans his teeth before heading back into his quarters to dress.
The door chimes as he is pulling on his boots, and he raises his head in curiosity.
"Come in," he calls.
The door opens to reveal a yeoman carrying a tray. "I did not order anything," Spock tells him. After his recent sickness he planned to skip breakfast.
"It's from the captain," the young man explains, placing the tray on Spock's desk. It contains a cup of something that looks like tea, and a plate of dry toast. "He said to eat this and he'll see you on the bridge."
Spock stares at the tray, his thoughts whirling. "Thank you, Yeoman," he says quietly. "That will be all."
The yeoman leaves, and Spock lowers himself into the chair at his desk, still staring at the contents of the tray. He still has no appetite, but it seems rude to turn down Kirk's thoughtfulness. Besides, McCoy will not be pleased if he finds out Spock has been missing meals.
Decision made, he reaches out and pulls the plate closer. There turns out to be a note underneath it, and Spock unfolds it curiously.
Spock,
I know you probably don't feel like eating right now, but the tea should help - it's an old family remedy for nausea. And don't worry, it's completely safe. My mom drank it herself when she was pregnant.
Jim.
Spock lowers the note slowly, feeling touched. He reaches for the cup of tea, and takes a curious sip. The flavour is pleasant, and it does seem to help. He takes another sip, then turns his attention to the toast.
Even with the tea he only manages about two thirds of a slice, but it stays down, and he feels marginally better as he disposes of the remnants of his breakfast. He makes a mental note to thank Kirk at the earliest opportunity.
The captain is already on the bridge when Spock arrives, but he turns as Spock exits the turbolift and gives him a warm smile. Instead of making his way directly to his station, Spock approaches him, stopping next to Kirk's chair. "Captain."
"Mister Spock," Kirk replies. He lowers his voice and adds, "Did you get my… message?"
Spock nods. "Yes, sir. It was most helpful."
Kirk beams, and Spock's heart gives a painful lurch. Without another word, he turns and makes his way over to his station. He can see an extensive session of meditation in his future.
* * *
Kirk's assistance makes the morning sickness slightly more bearable than it was, but Spock is still relieved when, at his next doctor's appointment, McCoy finally agrees to prescribe a mild anti-nausea medication. "You've lost half a pound in the last week, and for someone who's supposed to be gaining weight, that's not exactly ideal."
He makes a note on a PADD, then sets it aside and rubs his hands together. "So," he says. "The moment of truth. Lie back."
Spock does so, making sure to remain still as McCoy scans him from head to toe, with special attention paid to his abdomen. Finally the scans are finished, and he sits up. "Well?"
McCoy is studying the results. "Well, as far as I can tell, everything looks to be okay. Foetus at approximately nine weeks after conception, developing normally - or normally for a hybrid, anyway." He looks up. "Do you want to know the sex?"
Spock considers, then nods.
McCoy taps a few buttons. "Let's see. 68 percent human, 32 percent Vulcan, and... male. It's a boy."
A boy. He is going to have a son. Spock's hand goes to his stomach as the thought sinks in. "And you are certain it is healthy?"
McCoy nods. "I'll get a second opinion from M'Benga, but from where I'm standing everything looks fine." He gives Spock an oddly warm look. "Congratulations."
"Thank you," Spock mumbles absently. He glances down at his still-flat stomach, thoughts whirling wildly. A son.
"Do you want to see him?" McCoy asks.
Spock looks up at him in confusion. After a moment the question registers and he nods. "Yes."
"Lie back."
Spock does so, and watches as McCoy places a cold metal instrument across his stomach. He checks it, then presses a button and a holographic 3D image appears, floating in the air above Spock's body. Spock stares at it.
"See, here's the womb," McCoy says, indicating a particular part of the image. "And right here is your baby."
Spock studies the area McCoy is pointing to. It doesn't look like much, just a slightly curved blob on the image. It is difficult to believe that that little blob is his child.
McCoy makes some adjustments to the device, then flips a switch. "And this," he says, as the air fills with a very fast beating noise, "is his heartbeat."
Spock listens, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Wetness begins gathering in his eyes, and he hastily blinks it away. He glances at McCoy to see the doctor watching him with a faint smile.
"Don't worry," McCoy says. "It's a perfectly normal reaction to seeing your kid for the first time." He shrugs and adds, "I remember I got a little choked up the first time we saw Jo on the ultrasound, and I wasn't even the one carrying her."
He's obviously trying to help, but it just makes Spock feel more awkward. He turns away and focuses once more on the image in front of him, his first sight of his son.
* * *
True to his word, McCoy calls M'Benga in to look over Spock's results before he will let Spock leave. Fortunately M'Benga agrees that everything appears to be going well, and Spock leaves sickbay a short while later, clutching a bottle of anti-nausea pills, and a tape with the images of his child.
He heads towards the turbolift, intending to go to his quarters and rest, when he almost bumps into Kirk coming the other way.
"Spock!" Kirk exclaims. "I was just coming to find you."
Spock raises an eyebrow. "Indeed?"
Kirk nods, looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, I heard you had an appointment in sickbay, so I thought I'd stop by and see how you were."
"I am well," Spock tells him. "Doctor McCoy has given me some pills to help with the nausea." He shows Kirk the bottle.
"Good," Kirk says. "That's good. And everything's okay with the, you know…" He gestures awkwardly at Spock's stomach.
"The child is healthy," Spock assures him, and Kirk smiles broadly. Spock feels a pang in his chest and averts his eyes.
Kirk gestures at Spock's other hand, which is still clutching the tape. "What have you got there?"
Spock glances down at the tape. "Another gift from Doctor McCoy. It contains images of the foetus, as well as a recording of his heartbeat."
Kirk's eyes widen. "His? It's a boy?"
Spock nods. "Genetically, at least." He studies Kirk briefly, hesitating, before adding, "Would you like to see him?"
"Of course I would!" Kirk replies immediately, and Spock feels his lips curve upwards at Kirk's obvious enthusiasm.
"I was just heading to my quarters," he says. "If you would like to join me?"
Kirk nods, and they fall into step, heading as one towards the turbolift.
* * *
The next weeks pass slowly. Now that they know the foetus is healthy, McCoy allows Spock to go down to an examination every two weeks rather than every week, unless something unexpected happens. For Spock, who has never liked being prodded at by medical personnel, the news is something of relief.
Things begin to look up in other ways, as well. The pills do not eliminate his nausea, but they reduce it enough that he can not only manage to eat but also hold down most of what he eats. For the first time since the pregnancy began he actually begins to gain weight, although it is only a few pounds and not obvious to anyone but him. He is, however, still overly sensitive to smells, which is brought home to him unpleasantly one night when the captain joins him for chess.
Spock has been looking forward to the evening - with one thing and another it has been quite a while since they were able to sit down together for a chess game.
The feeling lasts until Kirk actually enters the room, upon which Spock is confronted by a spicy-sweet smell that makes his stomach churn. Kirk comes closer, the smell gets stronger, and Spock jumps up and bolts for the bathroom.
The experience of hanging over the toilet while his body attempts to turn inside out is familiar by this point, but it hasn't become any more pleasant.
Kirk crouches beside him, bringing with him the smell. Spock gags. "What is it?" Kirk asks, oblivious to his role in Spock's discomfort. "I thought you were doing better lately."
Spock grips the toilet seat with both hands, managing to choke out, "New cologne?"
"Yes," Kirk replies, sounding puzzled. "It was a gift from my nephew." Then his eyes widen and he scrambles backwards. "Oh. Oh." He crosses to the sink and immediately begins washing it off. "I'm sorry, Spock," he calls over his shoulder. "I didn't realise it would bother you. I won't wear it again."
He turns on the fan, and the smell begins to clear. Spock's stomach settles, and he flushes the toilet and sits back.
Kirk, freshly washed, kneels in front of him and offers Spock a glass of water. "Is that better?" he asks.
He still bears faint traces of cologne, but the smell is much improved. "Yes," Spock replies, taking the glass. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Kirk says. "Are you still okay for chess, or should we reschedule?"
Spock's fingers tighten around the glass as he takes a sip. "I am able to continue." The last thing he wants is for his sickness to cut into his time with Kirk.
Kirk smiles. "Okay, then. Come on." He helps Spock up, and together they leave the bathroom.
* * *
When Spock is fourteen weeks along, the Enterprise is sent on a mission to explore a new planet, to evaluate its suitability for colonisation. Spock is left in command while Kirk beams down with a landing party. He knows the regulations as well as anyone - pregnant crewmembers are off-limits for landing parties, and should limit transporter activity during the first trimester - but it is still difficult to watch Kirk beam down into a potentially dangerous situation without him.
He sits in the captain's chair on the bridge, waiting for any message or alert from the planet, feeling ill-at-ease and having to refrain himself from absently touching his stomach. It has become an almost unconscious reaction to stress and anxiety over the past weeks, but he is aware that it would raise uncomfortable questions from his shipmates, should they notice his lapse.
"Commander?"
Spock comes to attention, turning to face Lieutenant Uhura, who has spoken. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
She frowns. "I'm getting a transmission from the landing party, but it's very faint. I'm trying to boost the signal." Suddenly her eyes go wide. "They're calling for emergency beam up."
Jim. Fear washes over Spock, but he quashes it ruthlessly and toggles the intercom. "Spock to Lieutenant Kyle. Have you retrieved the landing party?"
Kyle's voice comes through clearly. "Beaming now, sir." There's a pause, before his tone changes to one of panic. "Medical team to the transporter room!"
Something in Spock snaps. "Sulu, you have the conn." He strides into the turbolift, projecting calm, but that doesn't last. The doors have barely opened at the transporter deck when he is out and running, his thoughts focused solely on his friend, the father of his child.
By the time he reaches the transporter room, the medical team is already there and working on the landing party. Spock scans the room and finds Kirk, sitting on the floor being fussed over by McCoy. He is covered in cuts and grazes, his shirt hanging off him in threads, and appears to be bleeding quite badly from a cut on his forehead, but he is alive. Spock nearly sways with relief.
With effort, he gains control of himself and strides over to them. "What happened?" he demands.
Kirk grimaces. "The local flora proved to be somewhat more… active than we were expecting. It attacked us." He gestures to the cut on his head. "This was from a tree that I apparently angered in some way. Nearly knocked me out, too."
"Good thing you have such a thick skull," McCoy puts in. "Come on, let's get you to sickbay."
Thankfully there are no casualties from the killer plants, though one poor crewman suffered internal bleeding and will be in sickbay for at least a week. Kirk's treatment is much simpler and once the cut on his head has been healed and the other cuts and grazes treated, he is free to go.
"Guess I better start drafting that memo to Starfleet," Kirk sighs. "Ceres III, not suitable for habitation."
"Command will be disappointed to hear that," Spock replies, but his attention is not really on the conversation. They enter the turbolift together, and Spock allows his mask to slip, just a little. "I should have been there," he says.
Kirk turns to look at him, eyes widening. "What? No! You saw what we were like when we beamed up. Would you really want to put your child through that?"
"No," Spock admits. "But I would not wish you to go through it either." Memory of the sheer fear he felt surfaces, and he cannot help but add, "You promised me you would be careful."
"You think I wasn't?" Kirk demands. "You think I enjoy being injured? Seeing my crew injured?"
"No," Spock says. He does not want to argue with Kirk. He takes a deep breath and says quietly, "It bothers me that I can no longer protect you."
Kirk's expression softens immediately. "I'm sorry," he says. "I know this is hard on you." He reaches out and lays a hand on Spock's arm, pulling it back as the turbolift doors slide open. "I really was being careful," Kirk says as they step out of the lift onto the officer's deck, "but I guess I'll just have to be even more so."
Spock's heart swells with affection for his friend. "It would be appreciated," he replies, then, seeing no one is around, takes the opportunity to reach out and touch Kirk's arm in return.
Next
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Spock wakes up the morning after a drunken sexual encounter to find that Kirk has no memory of it, he stays silent, afraid of risking their friendship. But the decision not to tell Kirk becomes more complicated when he discovers he is pregnant.
Words: ~6400/14400
Warnings: Mpreg
Notes: Written for the idfic big bang, Iddy Iddy Bang Bang.
Spock opens his eyes slowly, cautious of the pounding in his head. He stares at the ceiling, trying to discern why he feels so awful. Was he injured? Drugged?
Slowly memories of the previous night begin to return, and he closes his eyes briefly. Drugged would be not entirely inaccurate a term; the beverages served at the banquet last night were rather… potent.
He lowers his gaze and glances around the room, taking in data. He is in his bed in the guest quarters of the Bilaruvian palace, he is naked, and… Spock tenses as the full scope of the situation becomes clear.
He is not alone in the bed.
He stares down at the lump in the covers as if that will make it disappear. More memories begin to unspool behind his eyes; the wine making him relaxed and happy, the captain laughing at something he said, the two of them weaving their way back to their quarters, and then….
Spock swallows, feeling a nausea that cannot fully be blamed on the hangover. Slowly, he reaches over and pulls down the covers enough to identify his bed partner. Sure enough, his actions reveal the face of one James Kirk, still sound asleep.
Spock stares at him in dismay. His memories of last night are still sketchy, but the few he has retained, combined with his current situation, lead inescapably to the conclusion that he engaged in intimate acts with his captain.
He stares at Kirk for a long moment, then careful not to wake him, slips out of bed and hurries into the bathroom.
He stares at himself in the mirror, wondering how this could have happened. How he could have allowed this to happen.
He would be lying if he claimed that the thought never crossed his mind in the past. Kirk is a very attractive man, and Spock is certainly not immune to his charms. He has known for some time that his feelings for his friend extend beyond friendship. But acting on those feelings is an entirely different matter. Kirk is utterly devoted to his career, he has a marked preference for women, and he has shown no interest in anything besides friendship with Spock. And now Spock has broken his trust and taken advantage of him while he was intoxicated. (The fact that Spock himself was equally intoxicated barely crosses his mind.)
With a sigh, he enters the shower and begins washing away the aftereffects of their encounter. Part of him wishes that such an encounter could happen again, especially when he is better suited to remember it, but he pushes the thought down firmly. That it happened at all is bad enough. He suppresses a shudder at what Starfleet would think if they knew their most celebrated command team became intoxicated and engaged in intercourse during a mission. He is beginning to understand why such relationships are so heavily discouraged.
He has exited the shower and is drying off when it occurs to him that all his clothes are still in the other room. Slowly, nervously, he finishes drying himself, then wraps the towel securely around his waist and opens the door.
From what he can see, Kirk is still asleep, visible only as a lump in the bedcovers. Relieved, Spock moves silently over to the closet where his clothes are stored and begins to dress. Perhaps if he is quick enough he can get out of here before Kirk wakes up and avoid dealing with the situation altogether.
Unfortunately that does not prove to be the case. He is pulling on his shirt when he hears the bed shift, followed by a yawn, and knows that Kirk is awake.
He finishes donning his shirt and turns around, falling instinctively into his at attention stance, hands clasped behind his back. "Captain," he greets, as Kirk groans and rubs his temples. Spock tenses inwardly, anticipating a severely negative reaction once the events of last night sink in.
But Kirk merely blinks at him, looking vaguely confused. "Spock?" he asks. He looks around the room, frowning, then down at the bedcovers. "Isn't this your bed?" He rubs his forehead. "What happened last night?"
Mouth dry, Spock approaches the bed. "What do you remember?" he asks.
Kirk's frown deepens. "I remember… the banquet, I remember dancing…" He snorts and rubs at his forehead again. "I remember the Bilaruvians encouraging us to drink their native wine... but after that things get pretty blurry."
Spock stares at him. It appears Kirk has no memory of their activities last night. "You do not recall anything else?" he asks tentatively.
Kirk shakes his head, then winces and touches his temple. "No. I don't even remember how I got back here." He glances up at Spock. "I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"
Spock spends a second warring with his conscience over whether to tell Kirk the truth, before deciding against it. If Kirk truly does not remember, there is little point in making things awkward between them for no reason. "No," he says. "You charmed the Bilaruvians, as always, then we left the party together, came back here and went to sleep." All of which is true. Spock has become quite adept at lying with the truth over the years.
Kirk nods slowly, and the look of relief on his face tells Spock he's done the right thing. "Good," he says, then reddens suddenly. "Would you mind throwing me some underwear?" he asks. "I seem to have forgotten my pyjamas."
Spock finds a pair of boxers among Kirk's things and tosses them onto the bed. Kirk slips them on under the blankets, then hurries out of bed towards the bathroom.
Spock sits down on the bed to put on his boots, firmly suppressing the vague sense of dissatisfaction that Kirk does not remember their encounter. It is better this way. They can go on as they were, without the prospect of Spock's feelings ruining their friendship.
He finishes dressing and prepares to face the day.
* * *
Several weeks later, Spock wakes up at the sound of his alarm, and it takes all his strength not to just roll over and go back to sleep. He cannot remember the last time he was so tired, especially as he made sure to go to bed early the previous evening. He hopes he is not becoming ill.
The tiredness doesn't fade, but it isn't joined by any other symptoms. Spock assumes he merely needs more rest. As Kirk would tell him, even Vulcans are not invincible.
Kirk still shows no signs of remembering their… interlude, although Spock has. Or, at least, he has had a few rather vivid dreams that he suspects were not truly dreams. They all involve Kirk touching him, stroking him, pressing inside him, and leading them both to climax. Spock wakes from these dreams fiercely aroused, and in one case to the discovery that he reached orgasm in his sleep.
At times like that he wishes he did not remember either. It was easier, before, to accept that he would never have what he craved, easier to accept Kirk's friendship and not wish for more. Now that he knows what it is he is missing, it is almost impossible, and part of him aches with the wanting.
It is difficult to work with Kirk every day, and even more difficult to spend time together off duty without thinking about what may have happened between them, and how much he wants it to happen again. He nearly starts avoiding Kirk just to make it easier on himself, but his friend would surely notice and wonder what was wrong. Knowing Kirk, he would likely even assume he had done something to offend Spock and blame himself for Spock's weakness.
So Spock tries to continue on as normal, ignoring the ache in his heart and the tiredness that dogs his every move. That works for approximately three weeks before things take a turn for the worse.
* * *
Spock is on the bridge, running scans and working on the write up of a recent experiment when he begins to feel unwell; dizzy and nauseated. The nausea has crept up on him over the past few days, likely the result of some mild virus or other, but the dizziness is new, and the two together are quite unpleasant.
"Mister Spock?" Kirk's voice rings out, and Spock stands automatically. The dizziness increases dramatically, and his legs give out, sending him to the floor.
"Spock?" Kirk asks, his voice rising in concern, and Spock can hear him ordering McCoy to the bridge.
Spock raises himself carefully to a sitting position, leaning against the console and resting his head on his knees. A hand touches his shoulder and he turns to see Kirk kneeling beside him. "Are you okay?" he asks.
Spock starts to nod, then thinks better of it. "I became lightheaded," he replies. "It is wearing off now, however. I am quite able to go back to work."
"Don't give me that," Kirk replies, shaking his head. "You just nearly passed out, and you look like you're about to do it again. You're going down to sickbay and getting checked out." Spock opens his mouth to protest and Kirk adds, "That's an order."
Spock knows that there is no point arguing with Kirk when he uses that tone. "Yes, Captain," he says.
When McCoy arrives a few minutes later, he agrees with Kirk. He escorts Spock down to sickbay and settles him on a bed before scanning him with a tricorder.
"Well, there's definitely something wrong," he says. "I've never seen readings like this, even from you." He sets the tricorder aside, frowning. "Let's start from the beginning. What exactly are your symptoms?"
The desire to minimise his time in sickbay wars with the desire to know what is wrong with him, and in the end Spock opts to tell the truth. "Fatigue, nausea, and dizziness. I have also experienced vivid dreams and a slight decrease in my ability to control my emotions."
McCoy jots the list down on a PADD and frowns. "Huh," he says. "You know, if I didn't know better I'd think you were pregnant."
Pregnant. Spock freezes, the word hitting him like a tonne of bricks. The doctor is right, with his symptoms it is the most obvious solution, and his nausea doubles at the thought.
Some of what he's feeling must show on his face, because McCoy goes instantly serious. "You don't mean…" he begins.
"It is possible," Spock replies faintly.
McCoy is silent for a moment. "Well," he says eventually. "I guess I'd better run a test."
The diagnosis fits so well that Spock is completely unsurprised when the test comes back positive.
"Looks like you're about six weeks along," McCoy tells him. "Everything seems fine, far as I can tell, but you're going to have to start taking it easy." He pauses, then adds hesitantly, "That is, assuming you're planning on keeping it?"
The reminder that he has options should come as a relief to Spock. It does not. "I do not know," he replies honestly. "May I have some time to decide?"
"Of course," McCoy replies. "Take all the time you need. But I think you should tell Jim what's going on."
Spock stares at the doctor in disbelief, wondering how he could possibly know his secret. But then McCoy adds, "You know the regs as well as I do."
Of course. Regulation 52: any crewmember becoming pregnant must report the pregnancy to their superior officer at the first possible opportunity. Spock breathes a little easier at the knowledge that McCoy was speaking generally.
"I will do so," he says.
McCoy nods. "Okay, then, you're free to go." He hands Spock a bottle of pills. "Antenatal vitamins," he explains, when Spock gives him a questioning look. "Take one twice a day, and I'd advise you to start now, just in case you do decide to keep it. It'll make things easier."
Spock studies the small red pills. "Thank you, Doctor."
Pills in hand, he leaves sickbay and heads towards his quarters. It is almost 1600, which means that the captain will be coming to look for him, to see if he is all right. It is a habit of Kirk's that he has found comforting in the past, but right now he would prefer to be left alone. He has a lot of thinking to do.
Once he is safely in his quarters he stashes the vitamins on a high shelf, then sits down at his desk. Slowly he lifts a hand and places it on his still-flat stomach. It is difficult to believe there is a life growing in there.
He lowers his hand again and stares at the wall, his mind spinning. Pregnant. There is no question that it is Kirk's, of course - even if the dates did not line up exactly, he has not been intimate with anyone else in almost a year. It appears his assumptions as to the exact nature of their intercourse may have been incorrect.
Needing to move, he stands abruptly and strides over to his meditation shrine. He lights a stick of incense before dropping to his knees. Now, more than ever, he needs the peace of meditation.
It takes longer than usual to quiet his mind, something he has heard is not unusual for Vulcans in his condition. Once he has calmed himself sufficiently, he begins to review his options. There are only three he can think of; he can have the child and keep it, he can have the child and put it up for adoption, or he can request a termination.
After a moment's contemplation he rules out adoption. He does not believe he is selfless enough to give birth to a child and then give it away, and in any case finding anyone willing to adopt a mostly-human hybrid would be difficult at best. That leaves the other two options.
The logical decision would be to terminate, Spock knows. A child would interfere with his career, demanding time and energy and more affection than he is certain he is able to provide. Not to mention the strain that pregnancy and birth would inevitably put on his body.
But when he imagines going through with the procedure, something in him rebels. The foetus is a part of him, a part of Kirk, and he finds he cannot quite bring himself to destroy it.
That would leave the final option. Going through with the pregnancy, keeping the child, and raising it as his own.
He has never particularly considered becoming a father. He was told when he was young that he would not be able to have children, due to his hybrid nature. But now it has happened, against all odds, and it seems like an opportunity.
It would not be impossible, he muses. The five-year mission is ending in six months, before his due date. He could ask for reassignment to a ground posting, or even a leave of absence. Maternity leave, he thinks wryly.
One hand goes to his stomach again, almost absently. Continuing with the pregnancy may not be the logical decision, but he… feels that it is the right one.
Reaching out, he toggles the intercom. "Spock to McCoy."
The answer comes almost instantly. "McCoy here."
Spock pauses, conscious of the fact that others may be listening in. If he does not want his condition to become common knowledge he will have to choose his words carefully. "In reference to our conversation earlier," he begins, "I have decided to continue with treatment. I trust you can make the arrangements?"
"Of course," McCoy says. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone unless you ask me to."
Spock nods to himself. He and the doctor do not always see eye to eye, but he trusts McCoy not to break his word. "Thank you, Doctor," he says, and breaks the connection.
That done, he sits back in his chair and frowns. The next job will be to tell the captain, a conversation Spock is not looking forward to.
As if on cue, the door chimes. Spock takes a steadying breath before calling, "Come in."
As he was expecting, it's Kirk who comes through the door. "How are you feeling?" he asks, looking Spock up and down as if studying him for signs of illness.
"Better," Spock replies.
Kirk nods. "That's good. Did McCoy find out what was wrong with you?"
"Yes," Spock says. He swallows and adds, "Captain, I believe we need to talk." He gestures to the seat opposite. "Please, sit down."
Kirk does so, his face pale. "You're not ill, are you?" he asks.
Spock shakes his head. "Not exactly." He meets Kirk's gaze, but the warmth and concern there is too much for him and he looks away. He takes a breath and blurts out, "It appears I am pregnant."
There is silence for a long moment. Spock risks a glance at Kirk's face and sees it is blank, as if all emotion has been drained away.
"Pregnant," Kirk says eventually, as if testing the word out. "I'd ask if you were kidding, but I know you're not."
"It is possible for Vulcans," Spock tells him.
"Obviously," Kirk murmurs. He taps his fingers on the desk absently and adds, "Who's the… other parent?"
Spock opens his mouth to tell Kirk the truth, and then closes it, looking away. He cannot.
"He is not important," he says instead. "I will be raising the child on my own."
Something flickers in Kirk's eyes, and he leans forward, lowering his voice. "He didn't… assault you, did he?"
Spock feels a tiny spark of warmth at the obvious concern in his tone. "No," he says, shaking his head. "The act that lead to this pregnancy was consensual, if somewhat ill-advised."
Kirk seems to relax at his words. "Well, that's something, at least." He studies Spock, looking thoughtful. "I'm going to assume you have your own reasons for not telling whoever it is about this, so I won't try and change your mind. Just tell me one thing; was it someone on the ship?"
Spock finds himself grateful for the wording of Kirk's question. "No," he says. "It happened on a mission." It is a perfectly true statement, if a misleading one, and it seems to have the desired effect. Kirk nods.
"Okay," he says. "That's all I wanted to know." He smiles suddenly. "Anyway, I guess I should offer congratulations. I'm sure you'll make a wonderful father."
Spock clamps down hard on the surge of affection Kirk's words cause. "Thank you, Jim," he says.
"Don't mention it," Kirk replies. He pushes his chair back and rises. "And don't worry. I'll make all the arrangements." He waves a finger good naturedly. "No more landing parties for you, Mister Spock. At least I won't have to worry about you getting injured anymore."
Spock frowns. "I am not the only one who frequently becomes injured," he points out. "You must promise me to be more careful as I cannot be there to protect you."
Kirk's expression softens. "I will," he says. He lays a hand on Spock's shoulder and squeezes gently. "I'm not going to leave you to deal with this alone."
He drops his hand with a sigh, and steps back. "I should go make a start on the paperwork," he says. "Get some rest, okay?"
With that he leaves. Spock waits until the door has closed behind Kirk, then reaches up and gently places his hand over the place on his shoulder where Kirk's hand rested.
* * *
Kirk assures Spock that if there are any arrangements that would make things easier for him, he has only to ask. It is a nice thought, but one Spock makes a private resolution never to accept. Then the morning sickness kicks in.
He doesn't know what, exactly, jolts it into motion, but the ever-present nausea he has been battling for the past few weeks develops almost overnight into intense bouts of vomiting and an aversion to smells of any kind.
It quickly becomes apparent that he is going to need help, and Kirk is as good as his word. He arranges for food to be sent to Spock's quarters, so that he does not have to face the mess hall, and fields questions from the crew about Spock's sudden 'illness'. Spock knows he will eventually have to come clean about his condition, but for now he is grateful for Kirk's silence on the matter.
Still, even with Kirk's accommodations, it is difficult to keep the sickness from interfering with his duties. Spock brings it up to McCoy at his first prenatal appointment, hoping that the doctor will have some suggestions as to how to keep the nausea at bay.
Unfortunately, his advice is not particularly helpful. "There are anti-nausea medications, but I'd prefer not to give you them unless it's necessary," he tells Spock. "You could try ginger tea and crackers, that's a traditional remedy. And I can give you some wristbands, but I don't know if they'll work with your weird physiology."
Spock swallows against another surge of nausea and agrees to try the wristbands.
Other than that, his child appears to be developing well. Its blood is iron based, as they find out when Spock's own iron levels turn out upon a test to be almost non-existent. Doctor McCoy prescribes him some supplements and instructs him to take one each day with food. He makes an appointment for Spock to come back in a week and tells him that, now that Spock has decided to keep the child, they will do a full screening to make sure it is viable and, if so, that it stays that way.
That night, during his meditation, Spock searches out the foetus within him. It will be many weeks before it is developed enough to communicate with, but there is definitely something there, part of his body, yet apart from it. It is a curious feeling, but not an unpleasant one.
He tries to hold on to that sense of wonder the next morning, when an attempt at breakfast sends him rushing for the bathroom. When he has finished expelling what feels like everything he has ever eaten, he rests his forehead briefly on the edge of the toilet and reminds himself firmly why he is doing this.
"Spock?"
He snaps his head up to see Kirk crouching beside him. "Captain," he says. "I did not hear you come in."
"You were kind of busy," Kirk points out. "Are you okay?"
"I am told that this is a natural side effect of pregnancy," Spock replies. He manages to keep the frustration out of his tone, but from Kirk's look he picks up on it anyway.
"Can't McCoy give you something to help?" Kirk asks, reaching out carefully and laying a hand on Spock's back. Despite his current misery, Spock cannot help but feel a rush of warmth at the contact.
"He is reluctant to prescribe medication as there is a chance it may harm the foetus," he replies. "He did prescribe some therapeutic wristbands, but they do not appear to be working." The nausea swells again, as if attempting to confirm his words, and he swallows hard and takes a few deep breaths.
Kirk's hand moves, beginning to rub his back, and Spock cannot help but lean into it. "Does this help?" Kirk asks.
"Yes," Spock answers honestly. Concentrating, he forces down the nausea and pulls away. Kirk's touch is an indulgence he cannot allow. It will only lead to further pain later on.
"Thank you, Jim," he says. "I believe I will get dressed now."
Kirk nods, pushing himself to a standing position. "If you're sure," he replies. "But don't hesitate to call if you need anything."
"I will do so," Spock lies.
Once Kirk is gone, he makes his way over to the sink and cleans his teeth before heading back into his quarters to dress.
The door chimes as he is pulling on his boots, and he raises his head in curiosity.
"Come in," he calls.
The door opens to reveal a yeoman carrying a tray. "I did not order anything," Spock tells him. After his recent sickness he planned to skip breakfast.
"It's from the captain," the young man explains, placing the tray on Spock's desk. It contains a cup of something that looks like tea, and a plate of dry toast. "He said to eat this and he'll see you on the bridge."
Spock stares at the tray, his thoughts whirling. "Thank you, Yeoman," he says quietly. "That will be all."
The yeoman leaves, and Spock lowers himself into the chair at his desk, still staring at the contents of the tray. He still has no appetite, but it seems rude to turn down Kirk's thoughtfulness. Besides, McCoy will not be pleased if he finds out Spock has been missing meals.
Decision made, he reaches out and pulls the plate closer. There turns out to be a note underneath it, and Spock unfolds it curiously.
Spock,
I know you probably don't feel like eating right now, but the tea should help - it's an old family remedy for nausea. And don't worry, it's completely safe. My mom drank it herself when she was pregnant.
Jim.
Spock lowers the note slowly, feeling touched. He reaches for the cup of tea, and takes a curious sip. The flavour is pleasant, and it does seem to help. He takes another sip, then turns his attention to the toast.
Even with the tea he only manages about two thirds of a slice, but it stays down, and he feels marginally better as he disposes of the remnants of his breakfast. He makes a mental note to thank Kirk at the earliest opportunity.
The captain is already on the bridge when Spock arrives, but he turns as Spock exits the turbolift and gives him a warm smile. Instead of making his way directly to his station, Spock approaches him, stopping next to Kirk's chair. "Captain."
"Mister Spock," Kirk replies. He lowers his voice and adds, "Did you get my… message?"
Spock nods. "Yes, sir. It was most helpful."
Kirk beams, and Spock's heart gives a painful lurch. Without another word, he turns and makes his way over to his station. He can see an extensive session of meditation in his future.
* * *
Kirk's assistance makes the morning sickness slightly more bearable than it was, but Spock is still relieved when, at his next doctor's appointment, McCoy finally agrees to prescribe a mild anti-nausea medication. "You've lost half a pound in the last week, and for someone who's supposed to be gaining weight, that's not exactly ideal."
He makes a note on a PADD, then sets it aside and rubs his hands together. "So," he says. "The moment of truth. Lie back."
Spock does so, making sure to remain still as McCoy scans him from head to toe, with special attention paid to his abdomen. Finally the scans are finished, and he sits up. "Well?"
McCoy is studying the results. "Well, as far as I can tell, everything looks to be okay. Foetus at approximately nine weeks after conception, developing normally - or normally for a hybrid, anyway." He looks up. "Do you want to know the sex?"
Spock considers, then nods.
McCoy taps a few buttons. "Let's see. 68 percent human, 32 percent Vulcan, and... male. It's a boy."
A boy. He is going to have a son. Spock's hand goes to his stomach as the thought sinks in. "And you are certain it is healthy?"
McCoy nods. "I'll get a second opinion from M'Benga, but from where I'm standing everything looks fine." He gives Spock an oddly warm look. "Congratulations."
"Thank you," Spock mumbles absently. He glances down at his still-flat stomach, thoughts whirling wildly. A son.
"Do you want to see him?" McCoy asks.
Spock looks up at him in confusion. After a moment the question registers and he nods. "Yes."
"Lie back."
Spock does so, and watches as McCoy places a cold metal instrument across his stomach. He checks it, then presses a button and a holographic 3D image appears, floating in the air above Spock's body. Spock stares at it.
"See, here's the womb," McCoy says, indicating a particular part of the image. "And right here is your baby."
Spock studies the area McCoy is pointing to. It doesn't look like much, just a slightly curved blob on the image. It is difficult to believe that that little blob is his child.
McCoy makes some adjustments to the device, then flips a switch. "And this," he says, as the air fills with a very fast beating noise, "is his heartbeat."
Spock listens, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Wetness begins gathering in his eyes, and he hastily blinks it away. He glances at McCoy to see the doctor watching him with a faint smile.
"Don't worry," McCoy says. "It's a perfectly normal reaction to seeing your kid for the first time." He shrugs and adds, "I remember I got a little choked up the first time we saw Jo on the ultrasound, and I wasn't even the one carrying her."
He's obviously trying to help, but it just makes Spock feel more awkward. He turns away and focuses once more on the image in front of him, his first sight of his son.
* * *
True to his word, McCoy calls M'Benga in to look over Spock's results before he will let Spock leave. Fortunately M'Benga agrees that everything appears to be going well, and Spock leaves sickbay a short while later, clutching a bottle of anti-nausea pills, and a tape with the images of his child.
He heads towards the turbolift, intending to go to his quarters and rest, when he almost bumps into Kirk coming the other way.
"Spock!" Kirk exclaims. "I was just coming to find you."
Spock raises an eyebrow. "Indeed?"
Kirk nods, looking a little sheepish. "Yeah, I heard you had an appointment in sickbay, so I thought I'd stop by and see how you were."
"I am well," Spock tells him. "Doctor McCoy has given me some pills to help with the nausea." He shows Kirk the bottle.
"Good," Kirk says. "That's good. And everything's okay with the, you know…" He gestures awkwardly at Spock's stomach.
"The child is healthy," Spock assures him, and Kirk smiles broadly. Spock feels a pang in his chest and averts his eyes.
Kirk gestures at Spock's other hand, which is still clutching the tape. "What have you got there?"
Spock glances down at the tape. "Another gift from Doctor McCoy. It contains images of the foetus, as well as a recording of his heartbeat."
Kirk's eyes widen. "His? It's a boy?"
Spock nods. "Genetically, at least." He studies Kirk briefly, hesitating, before adding, "Would you like to see him?"
"Of course I would!" Kirk replies immediately, and Spock feels his lips curve upwards at Kirk's obvious enthusiasm.
"I was just heading to my quarters," he says. "If you would like to join me?"
Kirk nods, and they fall into step, heading as one towards the turbolift.
* * *
The next weeks pass slowly. Now that they know the foetus is healthy, McCoy allows Spock to go down to an examination every two weeks rather than every week, unless something unexpected happens. For Spock, who has never liked being prodded at by medical personnel, the news is something of relief.
Things begin to look up in other ways, as well. The pills do not eliminate his nausea, but they reduce it enough that he can not only manage to eat but also hold down most of what he eats. For the first time since the pregnancy began he actually begins to gain weight, although it is only a few pounds and not obvious to anyone but him. He is, however, still overly sensitive to smells, which is brought home to him unpleasantly one night when the captain joins him for chess.
Spock has been looking forward to the evening - with one thing and another it has been quite a while since they were able to sit down together for a chess game.
The feeling lasts until Kirk actually enters the room, upon which Spock is confronted by a spicy-sweet smell that makes his stomach churn. Kirk comes closer, the smell gets stronger, and Spock jumps up and bolts for the bathroom.
The experience of hanging over the toilet while his body attempts to turn inside out is familiar by this point, but it hasn't become any more pleasant.
Kirk crouches beside him, bringing with him the smell. Spock gags. "What is it?" Kirk asks, oblivious to his role in Spock's discomfort. "I thought you were doing better lately."
Spock grips the toilet seat with both hands, managing to choke out, "New cologne?"
"Yes," Kirk replies, sounding puzzled. "It was a gift from my nephew." Then his eyes widen and he scrambles backwards. "Oh. Oh." He crosses to the sink and immediately begins washing it off. "I'm sorry, Spock," he calls over his shoulder. "I didn't realise it would bother you. I won't wear it again."
He turns on the fan, and the smell begins to clear. Spock's stomach settles, and he flushes the toilet and sits back.
Kirk, freshly washed, kneels in front of him and offers Spock a glass of water. "Is that better?" he asks.
He still bears faint traces of cologne, but the smell is much improved. "Yes," Spock replies, taking the glass. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Kirk says. "Are you still okay for chess, or should we reschedule?"
Spock's fingers tighten around the glass as he takes a sip. "I am able to continue." The last thing he wants is for his sickness to cut into his time with Kirk.
Kirk smiles. "Okay, then. Come on." He helps Spock up, and together they leave the bathroom.
* * *
When Spock is fourteen weeks along, the Enterprise is sent on a mission to explore a new planet, to evaluate its suitability for colonisation. Spock is left in command while Kirk beams down with a landing party. He knows the regulations as well as anyone - pregnant crewmembers are off-limits for landing parties, and should limit transporter activity during the first trimester - but it is still difficult to watch Kirk beam down into a potentially dangerous situation without him.
He sits in the captain's chair on the bridge, waiting for any message or alert from the planet, feeling ill-at-ease and having to refrain himself from absently touching his stomach. It has become an almost unconscious reaction to stress and anxiety over the past weeks, but he is aware that it would raise uncomfortable questions from his shipmates, should they notice his lapse.
"Commander?"
Spock comes to attention, turning to face Lieutenant Uhura, who has spoken. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
She frowns. "I'm getting a transmission from the landing party, but it's very faint. I'm trying to boost the signal." Suddenly her eyes go wide. "They're calling for emergency beam up."
Jim. Fear washes over Spock, but he quashes it ruthlessly and toggles the intercom. "Spock to Lieutenant Kyle. Have you retrieved the landing party?"
Kyle's voice comes through clearly. "Beaming now, sir." There's a pause, before his tone changes to one of panic. "Medical team to the transporter room!"
Something in Spock snaps. "Sulu, you have the conn." He strides into the turbolift, projecting calm, but that doesn't last. The doors have barely opened at the transporter deck when he is out and running, his thoughts focused solely on his friend, the father of his child.
By the time he reaches the transporter room, the medical team is already there and working on the landing party. Spock scans the room and finds Kirk, sitting on the floor being fussed over by McCoy. He is covered in cuts and grazes, his shirt hanging off him in threads, and appears to be bleeding quite badly from a cut on his forehead, but he is alive. Spock nearly sways with relief.
With effort, he gains control of himself and strides over to them. "What happened?" he demands.
Kirk grimaces. "The local flora proved to be somewhat more… active than we were expecting. It attacked us." He gestures to the cut on his head. "This was from a tree that I apparently angered in some way. Nearly knocked me out, too."
"Good thing you have such a thick skull," McCoy puts in. "Come on, let's get you to sickbay."
Thankfully there are no casualties from the killer plants, though one poor crewman suffered internal bleeding and will be in sickbay for at least a week. Kirk's treatment is much simpler and once the cut on his head has been healed and the other cuts and grazes treated, he is free to go.
"Guess I better start drafting that memo to Starfleet," Kirk sighs. "Ceres III, not suitable for habitation."
"Command will be disappointed to hear that," Spock replies, but his attention is not really on the conversation. They enter the turbolift together, and Spock allows his mask to slip, just a little. "I should have been there," he says.
Kirk turns to look at him, eyes widening. "What? No! You saw what we were like when we beamed up. Would you really want to put your child through that?"
"No," Spock admits. "But I would not wish you to go through it either." Memory of the sheer fear he felt surfaces, and he cannot help but add, "You promised me you would be careful."
"You think I wasn't?" Kirk demands. "You think I enjoy being injured? Seeing my crew injured?"
"No," Spock says. He does not want to argue with Kirk. He takes a deep breath and says quietly, "It bothers me that I can no longer protect you."
Kirk's expression softens immediately. "I'm sorry," he says. "I know this is hard on you." He reaches out and lays a hand on Spock's arm, pulling it back as the turbolift doors slide open. "I really was being careful," Kirk says as they step out of the lift onto the officer's deck, "but I guess I'll just have to be even more so."
Spock's heart swells with affection for his friend. "It would be appreciated," he replies, then, seeing no one is around, takes the opportunity to reach out and touch Kirk's arm in return.
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