Fic: Inelastic
The door opens, and for a fleeting moment Jim is prepared to heave a sigh of relief - but it’s just Uhura. She pokes her head in as his sigh turns into one of disappointment, quirking an eyebrow at him as she approaches.
“Christine tells me you’re not cooperating,” she says matter-of-factly. “Any particular reason why?”
Jim groans as the baby squirms violently inside of him. “Look, Lieutenant, I know this is your way of expressing your concern,” he manages, pressing a hand to his swollen midsection. “But this has nothing to do with you. This is about me and Bones. He promised me he’d be here when she was born, and if he’s not gonna keep his promise, I’m not gonna keep mine. Fair’s fair, right?”
She lets out an aggravated sigh, the kind that only women seem to be capable of making properly. “I’m pretty sure even you can’t order a baby not to be born and get it to listen,” she points out, crossing her arms. “Just push, Captain. It’s not rocket science.”
“Damn right it’s not,” Jim says, tightening his legs. “Rocket science is easy.”
<><><><><><><><><><><>
Seven increasingly frequent contractions later, Bones still isn’t in the room, but he is pacing frantically outside, which Jim counts to be something of a victory. But it’s starting to really fucking hurt, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to last until Bones gives in. Spock, in a rare display of (stoic-faced) support, has joined Jim on the bed, legs spread out on either side of his body as the Vulcan braces him, his warm body barely soothing the ache in Jim’s lower back.
“This isn’t what you signed up for, huh,” Jim jokes weakly. He’s only just starting to realize that Bones isn’t going to be in the room with him when the baby’s born, and he knows that Spock is trying to make up for that. Spock has been unusually supportive of his pregnancy, but still. He clutches Spock’s knee. “Bet you never imagined you’d be…doing something like this for your captain.”
“Indeed,” Spock responds, chest rumbling against Jim’s back. “But I find it to be acceptable.”
Spock-speak for “glad I can help,” Jim guesses. He leans back against him, doing his level best not to crush him as another contraction hits him. He lets a ragged breath leave him.
“Just a warning - I’m going to be really loud,” he tells Spock, hands tightening on his knees. The Vulcan makes an affirmative noise, and Jim takes a deep breath. He feels Spock relax against him, no doubt preparing himself (smart man), and lets out everything in one long, loud, pained scream.
He lets out the stretching, tearing, burning pain, the fear of doing this alone, the apology for making Bones think he wasn’t doing this out of choice. The panic he felt when he realized labor had come early. The doubts he has about his role in this baby’s life.
And then, all the energy he has left goes into breathing, legs locked in place. And maybe, just maybe, the labor can stop for a few seconds.
When the door opens again, Bones is white as a sheet, hair a sweaty mess and hands shaking - but he’s here, and that’s enough to give him a little more energy, at least - enough to glare, uncross his legs, and brace himself against Spock again.
“Son of a bitch,” he growls out weakly. “Get over here and fucking catch.”
And okay, Jim’s not the best guy in the world, and he definitely sucks as far as friends go, but he knows he’s done the right thing today. He knows he’s doing the right thing period, watching Bones position his hands under the too-ready opening that’s formed to his body, watching Bones watching him, and he lets that knowledge hold him over while he fucking pushes.
And Jim’s not sure how anyone would think of him right now, sweaty and exhausted and leaning against a too-hot body as he delivers his best friend’s daughter, but he doesn’t care. He just works and works to that end, feeling first the head and then the bony shoulders work their way out of him, and then there’s just this great release, the pressure gone, and he’s almost boneless. But not too boneless to hold up his head and watch Bones gaze adoringly at the screaming, goopy little thing he’s holding and think that maybe he’s an okay guy after all.
Spock is kind enough to put warm hands on Jim’s eyes and block the sight, let him concentrate on expelling the placenta. When he’s allowed to look again, the baby is cleaned and wrapped up in a blanket, tired eyes staring up at Bones like she knows she belongs to him, and Jim manages a smile.
“Think you can handle her by yourself?” he asks weakly, letting Spock’s warmth sooth his aching body. This was the agreement, he reminds himself. He would have the baby and Bones would raise it. And if they ever ended up together again, then he could be the other parent. Bones strokes her hair quietly.
“Think you can handle her with me?” his best friend asks.
Jim feels his eyes slipping closed in exhaustion. And he might not quite get the nod he’s working on out, but with the last of his energy, he murmurs, “Hell, Bones, you didn’t even need to ask.”
And then he’s asleep before he even gets a good look at his daughter’s face. But, he knows, there’ll always be plenty of time for that.
“Christine tells me you’re not cooperating,” she says matter-of-factly. “Any particular reason why?”
Jim groans as the baby squirms violently inside of him. “Look, Lieutenant, I know this is your way of expressing your concern,” he manages, pressing a hand to his swollen midsection. “But this has nothing to do with you. This is about me and Bones. He promised me he’d be here when she was born, and if he’s not gonna keep his promise, I’m not gonna keep mine. Fair’s fair, right?”
She lets out an aggravated sigh, the kind that only women seem to be capable of making properly. “I’m pretty sure even you can’t order a baby not to be born and get it to listen,” she points out, crossing her arms. “Just push, Captain. It’s not rocket science.”
“Damn right it’s not,” Jim says, tightening his legs. “Rocket science is easy.”
<><><><><><><><><><><>
Seven increasingly frequent contractions later, Bones still isn’t in the room, but he is pacing frantically outside, which Jim counts to be something of a victory. But it’s starting to really fucking hurt, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to last until Bones gives in. Spock, in a rare display of (stoic-faced) support, has joined Jim on the bed, legs spread out on either side of his body as the Vulcan braces him, his warm body barely soothing the ache in Jim’s lower back.
“This isn’t what you signed up for, huh,” Jim jokes weakly. He’s only just starting to realize that Bones isn’t going to be in the room with him when the baby’s born, and he knows that Spock is trying to make up for that. Spock has been unusually supportive of his pregnancy, but still. He clutches Spock’s knee. “Bet you never imagined you’d be…doing something like this for your captain.”
“Indeed,” Spock responds, chest rumbling against Jim’s back. “But I find it to be acceptable.”
Spock-speak for “glad I can help,” Jim guesses. He leans back against him, doing his level best not to crush him as another contraction hits him. He lets a ragged breath leave him.
“Just a warning - I’m going to be really loud,” he tells Spock, hands tightening on his knees. The Vulcan makes an affirmative noise, and Jim takes a deep breath. He feels Spock relax against him, no doubt preparing himself (smart man), and lets out everything in one long, loud, pained scream.
He lets out the stretching, tearing, burning pain, the fear of doing this alone, the apology for making Bones think he wasn’t doing this out of choice. The panic he felt when he realized labor had come early. The doubts he has about his role in this baby’s life.
And then, all the energy he has left goes into breathing, legs locked in place. And maybe, just maybe, the labor can stop for a few seconds.
When the door opens again, Bones is white as a sheet, hair a sweaty mess and hands shaking - but he’s here, and that’s enough to give him a little more energy, at least - enough to glare, uncross his legs, and brace himself against Spock again.
“Son of a bitch,” he growls out weakly. “Get over here and fucking catch.”
And okay, Jim’s not the best guy in the world, and he definitely sucks as far as friends go, but he knows he’s done the right thing today. He knows he’s doing the right thing period, watching Bones position his hands under the too-ready opening that’s formed to his body, watching Bones watching him, and he lets that knowledge hold him over while he fucking pushes.
And Jim’s not sure how anyone would think of him right now, sweaty and exhausted and leaning against a too-hot body as he delivers his best friend’s daughter, but he doesn’t care. He just works and works to that end, feeling first the head and then the bony shoulders work their way out of him, and then there’s just this great release, the pressure gone, and he’s almost boneless. But not too boneless to hold up his head and watch Bones gaze adoringly at the screaming, goopy little thing he’s holding and think that maybe he’s an okay guy after all.
Spock is kind enough to put warm hands on Jim’s eyes and block the sight, let him concentrate on expelling the placenta. When he’s allowed to look again, the baby is cleaned and wrapped up in a blanket, tired eyes staring up at Bones like she knows she belongs to him, and Jim manages a smile.
“Think you can handle her by yourself?” he asks weakly, letting Spock’s warmth sooth his aching body. This was the agreement, he reminds himself. He would have the baby and Bones would raise it. And if they ever ended up together again, then he could be the other parent. Bones strokes her hair quietly.
“Think you can handle her with me?” his best friend asks.
Jim feels his eyes slipping closed in exhaustion. And he might not quite get the nod he’s working on out, but with the last of his energy, he murmurs, “Hell, Bones, you didn’t even need to ask.”
And then he’s asleep before he even gets a good look at his daughter’s face. But, he knows, there’ll always be plenty of time for that.