annenburg (annenburg) wrote,

Incidentally (1/1)

Title: Incidentally
Rating: R
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Summary: Another meme fic!  Would you look at that. Jim wakes up with girl parts, freaks out, and runs to Spock.  Spock takes the opportunity to sex him up a bit.  The two of them are emotionally retarded for a few long paragraphs, and then complications ensue.  Oh, hey, go figure; I wrote something where a guy knocked up another guy.  I NEVER do that.  Lol.


The second it occurred to Jim that he no longer had testicles, he was already making a list of Things in My Life That Really, Really Suck. Number five on the list was definitely “Mom married an asshole”. Four was “NYOTA FUCKING UHURA turned him down for SPOCK.” This was closely followed by “Vulcan imploded”, which really wouldn’t have made it onto the list, if not for the fact that he probably could’ve prevented it. What was normally number one had been pushed to number two: “My birthday is the day Dad died and Sam never lets me forget it.” And, of course, number one involved a very recent and disturbing discovery:

“I no longer have a penis, and there are water balloon-like protrusions coming from my chest.”

It didn’t mean he was a girl. At least, that was what he told himself to keep from hyperventilating because he was Captain Kirk, and Captain Kirk did not hyperventilate. Captain Kirk was the golden boy of Starfleet. The youngest fucking captain in the history of the Federation.

Captain Kirk had breasts.

Not that he would admit it, though. Clearly, he was hallucinating. He could just reach on up and put his hand on his chest and it’d be flat, like always. He attempted it, only succeeding in disproving himself as his hand closed on that soft flesh that definitely hadn’t been there the day before.

On the plus side, it was 0200 hours. He had six hours to sort this out before shift started.

As the protrusions on his chest (not breasts, not breasts…Goddamn it, breasts) were clearly evidence of some sort of scientific happening (and because frankly he knew exactly how many hyposprays he would get with the alternative), the only logical thing to do in this situation would be to go to the master of logic himself.

He forced himself up and off the bed with an ‘oomph’, glancing warily in the mirror. Well, he didn’t look too much different. His shoulders were still wide, his face and neck masculine. In fact, the only obvious differences were the protuberances (breasts) and the distinct lack of his usual ‘just woken’ wood – which, admittedly, was somewhat less noticeable through his nightclothes.

He brought himself to his feet and made it across half the room before pitching over. Oh, lovely. A third difference. His hips were wider, too, if only slightly. They pulled at the string of his pants. He tugged them up, careful not to brush the area. Who knew? Maybe his parts had just, what, retracted? Weren’t there species who did that?

He made it to Spock’s room, ringing the bell. The door opened for him, revealing the Vulcan himself sitting at his desk, posture absolutely straight, eyes fixed on the PADD in front of him. “Is there something I can do for you, Captain?”

Ouch. He was probably still stinging over his break-up with Uhura. Something about cultural differences, if the rumors were to be believed. Jim thought for a moment how to phrase what he needed to say, and nothing came to him.

Oh, fuck it.

“I’ve got breasts,”he blurted out, the word slipping out of his mouth like a fish, all floppy and slippery and oh, god, why was he thinking of metaphors? Similes? He couldn’t remember which was which and it didn’t really matter because he had fucking breasts.

“Increased fat deposits over the pectoral muscles are to be expected in deep space travel as a method of protecting the human heart,” Spock informed him, not even turning around. His attention seemed completely devoted to the PADD in front of him. “This can be catalyzed by the consumption of soy products. Should you wish to reduce the deposits, it would be my recommendation to remove soy from your diet and spend some time in the high gravity chamber. Will that be all, Captain?”

Jim grit his teeth. “Spock, you don’t understand,” he ground out, shifting and feeling extremely uncomfortable when nothing pressed against his thigh. “It’s not just fat deposits. I seem to have developed, uh. Female mammary glands.”


That seemed to get his attention. Spock froze, just barely, before setting the PADD down quite deliberately and turning to at last face his superior. Finally, Jim thought, pulling his shirt flat against him so Spock could see the new additions to his chest. The Vulcan simply examined him from a distance, eyes oddly light.

“While there is indeed swelling of your—”

“Oh, for the love of GOD,” Jim grumbled, and without a second thought he gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged it to his chin, flicking his eyes to the ceiling. As much as he wanted to see Spock’s reaction to being unexpectedly flashed (and naturally, he had a very creative imagination that set itself to work immediately), seeing him react to his captain’s body was not a very enticing thought. There was a long silence, during which Jim found two screws on the ceiling and one small stain on the wall that might’ve been a bug at one time, though he couldn’t imagine Spock smashing a bug. “Well? Boobs, yeah?”

He heard rather than saw Spock stand and approach him, and when he was chest to chest (or somewhat close) with him, their eyes met. Spock held one hand out. “If I may?”

Oh, this was good. Now Spock wanted to fucking touch the things. Still, he nodded, making heroic efforts not to react when two hands, not one, moved to cup one breast. They squeezed around the outside, fingers dipping into the tender flesh (had he ever had so much fat in one place before?) before one hand lifted the breast and the other traced the nipple, pulling it slightly. A moan slipped out of Jim before he could help it, and to his great disturbance he felt wetness inside of him where he had previously not had a place to be wet.

“The breasts do appear to be female in nature,” Spock admitted, removing his hands. Jim yanked his shirt down belatedly. “Is the change to your chest the only difference in your body?”

Jim knew he was flushing, but he reminded himself that he had come here for help. Spock wasn’t the type who would make light of this situation, and he knew his first officer would try to help him out here. “My dick got swapped out for, uh…”

He trailed off, but Spock seemed to get the message. “You believe your internal and external structure has become female?” he asked, and for some reason (maybe Jim was just tired or maybe the wetness below the belt had migrated to his ears or something) his voice seemed almost…husky. He nodded grudgingly. “Have you investigated the extent of the change?”

Jim groaned. “I came here as soon as I figured out what was going on,” he said, trying very hard not to concentrate on the noticeable emptiness in his briefs or the wet or anything and why was he still getting wet, anyway? Spock had stopped touching him awhile ago. “Why, you think it’s partial?”

Spock seemed to hesitate for a moment. “I might better understand the situation at hand if I knew the extent of the change. There are certain species of plant which are known to have a feminizing effect on humanoid species, but the process seldom leads to a change of sex overall. It is quite possible that the effects will reverse themselves within the next few hours, but I would need to know the current level of transformation.”

Jim nodded. “How am I supposed to figure it out?” he asked, and when Spock’s face turned to his ‘pointing out the obvious’ face, he shook his head. “No. No. I am not going to go make Bones look at my cunt. He’d never let me live it down, and he’d hypo me with something I’m allergic to or something. You do it.” 

There was a long moment wherein Spock seemed to be deciding whether or not to proceed, and during this long moment Jim reflected on how Very Bad an Idea this Bad Idea was. But he had offered – ordered, even, so he couldn’t take it back. Besides, Spock was professional and scientific and fuck, this was a bad idea. Why was he getting wetter? This was Bad Idea #2 on his long list of Bad Ideas. Jesus, Spock’s fingers looked long.

“Very well,” Spock conceded at last, gesturing towards the bed. “Disrobe and recline on your back. I will perform a cursory exam of the structure of your genitalia using manual investigative techniques. You need only remove the bottom half of your sleepwear.”

Totally professional, thank God. Jim did as told, ignoring the building dampness in his crotch and propping himself up with a pillow, spreading his legs. Spock knelt on the bed before him, meeting his eyes. Jim nodded, giving him the go-ahead.

He could feel everything Spock did to him, and it was affecting him more than he anticipated. The fingers were pulling at loose skin (which did not feel as weird as it should have), separating folds Jim had not wanted to think he had. A hot finger ran from the tip of the genitals to the bottom, sending a shock of pure pleasure through Jim’s body as it stroked something ohmygod, that felt like he was fucking teasing the head and retreated.

“External structure is consistent with post-pubescent human female,” Spock murmured, and Jim knew he wasn’t imagining it now. There was a hint of arousal in Spock’s voice. Somehow, he wanted that all of a sudden. Like he knew why. “May I proceed with an internal exam?”

“Go for it,” Jim said, pulling his knees towards him. Spock pulled the folds apart, eliciting a long shiver from Jim, and then that hot finger was prodding, prodding – and then there was something (the finger, right, the finger) inside him. He let out a long moan, unable to control himself.

So fucking wet.

“Vaginal structure also consistent with that of a mature human female,” Spock stated, though to Jim’s ears it sounded more like a purr. That long finger twisted, and Jim gasped. “There does not appear to be a hymen, though the cervix is well developed and there are indications of a uterus, although I…cannot confirm it…”

Spock was trailing off, and Jim knew exactly why. His muscles were contracting around that finger. It felt so fucking good, and wasn’t it the mission of this ship to ‘go where no man had gone before’? Spock seemed to read his mind, slipping the finger back and forth slowly, rubbing the channel gently and so good not enough and then another finger and oh GOD.

“Wanna see if it’s…in working order?” Jim offered, one hand finding his own nipple and flicking it. Mmm. Spock rubbed his fingers against the inside and Jim fucking had an inside to rub and then the fingers were pulling out.

“Experimentation does seem to be in order,” the Vulcan said quickly, and before Jim knew it the man’s pants were open and there was a blunt pressure at the opening of his—

“Holy shit!” Jim almost hollered as Spock slid in with one slick thrust. They were still for a moment, Jim’s walls twitching around that hardness. Such a rush. Did he just come? He didn’t know, but he was shivering and twitching and Spock’s hands were on his breasts and he didn’t want this to stop. “Move, Goddamnit!”

Thankfully, Spock seemed to want this as much as Jim, because he obeyed immediately, licking at Jim’s neck and setting up a firm, quick rhythm. Jim groaned, breath hitching with each thrust. After a few moments, Spock began shifting his angle, and while it was all so amazing and so fucking awesome, Jim wondered if Spock knew where to look—

Oh, yeah, he definitely knew where to look. 

“Right there, right there,” Jim panted, using his hands to spread his legs further. The words came out so naturally then, and he couldn’t stop them. “Pound that cunt as hard as you can, Spock. So wet, can you feel it? God, you’re so fucking—fucking amazing at this. So fucking hard. Come on, give it here.”

Spock’s rhythm increased, and Jim forgot completely about the purpose of this visit. All he knew was that that cock was sending him higher and higher, so deep inside him and those hands, teasing his nipples and rubbing at his little clit and cupping his breast, oh, those were the hands of a fucking god, and he needed this so bad.

“Come on, come on,” Jim grunted, pulling Spock into a harder rhythm, until he was all but pistoning into Jim. “Oh, fuck. Come on, fuck that cunt. So wet, wet for you, you feel it, right? So big and hard and amazing. I think I’m gonna come. I think I am. You gonna come with me? You gonna shoot what you got inside me, Spock? Oh, God, Spock, I’m gonna come. You gotta come with me, you gotta—”

Jim couldn’t speak then, a long whine escaping his throat as he felt himself teeter on the edge of orgasm, a big one (he just knew it was going to be awesome, couldn’t not be with how amazing he felt), and then Spock was thrusting so fast, and Jim didn’t know anyone could move that fast and the mattress was complaining and there were slick sounds coming from a different angle than Jim had ever heard and he tossed his head back and fucking came, sensation rolling over him and making him clench around that incredible cock, and when something almost burning hot shot up into him, it only extended that feeling, and—

Shit, no wonder girls went crazy during sex.

He was weak and trembly and just finishing up the last of his orgasm when Spock all but collapsed on him, still fully clothed. Jesus, what a good fuck. The man’s fingers wrapped around his, rubbing them lightly, and for a few long moments, the only sounds in the room were harsh breaths and panting and the like. The smell of sex permeated the room, and Jim could feel himself leaking (only slightly uncomfortably) around Spock’s softening dick.

“Wow,” Jim managed, eyes fluttering closed. “You said this was temporary, right? I’m gonna miss that.”

And then Spock was lifting himself off Jim, a startled look in his eyes. Jim would’ve questioned it, but then Spock was pulling out hurriedly, sitting back on his heels. Damn stupendous body, the captain had to admit. Spock’s eyes raked over his form.

“Very temporary, apparently,” Spock managed to inform him evenly. “You are already reverting back to your original sex.”

Jim glanced down his body, confused – and sure enough, the breasts were shrinking and the skin of his dirty bits was flexing around a bit. “Oh,” he said, glancing back up at Spock. “Uh, what now?”

Spock was already rezipping his pants, and he handed Jim his own pajama bottoms. “I will wait in the hallway while you redress,” he stated, voice back to that emotionless cold. “As the condition has reversed, I am certain you will have no more need to remain here tonight. Once you have dressed, please return to your quarters.”

Spock followed through immediately, stepping out of his own room. The reality of what he’d just done sank in quickly for Jim, distracting him from the changes in his body. He’d slept with Spock. Hell, more than that – he’d had Spock fuck him, and it’d been just about the best sex in his life. Spock, the ever serious, ever emotionless Vulcan had done so amazingly well, too, and if Jim was going to let himself admit it (which he wasn’t, he definitely wasn’t, especially to anyone besides himself), it was better than he’d imagined – and he had imagined it a lot.

Maybe Vulcans had something there, with the ‘repression of emotion’ idea. God only knew it would be worth it to be able to deny a feeling of something for his first officer.


They did not speak of what had happened between them, and part of Jim wished he could believe it had been a dream. There was no physical evidence of what had happened (where had everything gone? Jim didn’t want to think about it), and the next day he’d gone to the bridge fully male again, no indications of ever having been (not female, just in possession of tits and a cunt) otherwise.

But something had to have happened, because out of nowhere Jim found himself watching the man, taking in his graceful (and, now that he knew anything about it, fucking sexy) appearance, the way his body moved and the exotic features he hadn’t given a second thought to before. He found himself inwardly praising his competence, and once, when Spock had bent against a consol, listening to a heavily encoded transmission, hips angled and chest wide, Jim hadn’t been able to even take a breath.

He knew what it was, but damn if he’d ever admit it. That would easily take slot one in his Very Bad Ideas list.

For the first few weeks, there were no major differences in their work patterns, perhaps just a coolness that hadn’t been there before (not that it seemed to affect the Vulcan, with his Goddamn control and his Goddamn dignity and he hadn’t seemed to controlled when he was gasping and ramming that cock into--). Jim’s body was male, his mind was male, and now that everything was back to normal (not how it should have been because he and Spock should have been humping against everything by now, if Jim’s subconscious was any indication), he could put that night behind him.

Yeah, right.

Two months and eight days after that particular night (not that Jim was counting or anything, because obviously he’d put it behind him), Jim found himself on the bridge just knowing something was wrong. He’d been exhausted recently, had been sleeping too much, wanted fruit with every meal (when in fact he hated fruit, hated it with a passion except for apples, except now apples were disgusting and he only wanted bananas or kiwis or hey, now some melon sounded pretty good), and now something was wrong.

He’d avoid mentioning it, though, lest Bones jab him in the neck with another hypo. He was sure the man had a whole list of ‘hypos to try out on Jim’ or ‘hypos Jim needs’ or ‘hypos Jim doesn’t need but I’m giving him anyway’. Seriously. Just because he mixed up the vaccine labels once.

He stayed in the chair for the most part, occasionally watching Spock lean over and admiring those shoulders or watching Sulu subtly flirt with the ever-oblivious Chekov. Uhura was busy decoding transmissions, of course, and her ignoring him was her way of showing him respect. Maybe. If it even mattered if she respected him.

“Captain, I need you to give me a second opinion on this,” Spock called over, voice controlled and even, and Jim grudgingly got to his feet, shuffling over to the other man. He raised an eyebrow, feeling the ship sway slightly. Damn turbulence. “I am aware that you researched Pyrthus rock extensively for your xenogeology thesis. Do you agree that this appears to be Dipyrithian in origin?”

Jim leaned over the scope, furrowing his brows as the edges blurred. Was it malfunctioning? The ship swayed again, and Jim wondered why no one else seemed to notice. “Yeah, Dipyrithian. Class two,” Jim confirmed, straightening up. For a moment, he admired the way the controls on the board melded into one giant white streak, and then he realized he was fainting.

Just a little too late. 

When he woke in sick bay, his hands were already busy batting away a hypo that Bones seemed very determined to give him. “Stop,” he groaned, finally just grabbing his friend’s wrist and guiding it away. Bones relented, and Jim rubbed at his eyes because argh, so tired, why did he pass out, he’d been sleeping more than a teenager lately.

“Dammit, Jim, you need to come up to sickbay on your own next time instead of passing out and making Spock carry you here,” Bones grumbled. An image came to Jim’s mind of Spock cradling him in his arms and rushing him to sick bay, but he forced it away. He probably did the fireman’s carry or just hauled him on his back or something more graceful. He was probably calm, too. “I took a blood sample while you were out. Everyone’s worried.”

Jim scoffed. “Probably an STD or something even more embarrassing,” he joked, trying to remember the last time he’d had unprotected sex. Ah, yes. The Night that Did Not Happen. He remembered it well, that Night that Did Not Happen. Even though it, you know, didn’t happen. And he highly doubted Spock had any STDs, even if it had happened. Which it hadn’t.

“Just give me a rundown of your symptoms, Jim,” Bones said, voice unusually gentle. Fuck, he wasn’t a baby. Bastard didn’t need to treat him like one.

“I’m tired,” Jim deadpanned. “I’m tired and hungry and I sleep like crazy and I just feel like someone turned my brain upside down and shook it. Spock didn’t meld me, did he?”

Bones jabbed a hypo into his neck. Jim swore loudly, glaring at his friend. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t,” the man said simply. “Sounds like a vitamin deficiency. I’ll check your blood tests when they come back, but you’re probably just anemic.”

“Great,” Jim replied, attempting to sit up. Bones shoved him back on the bed in a way that did not echo ‘good bedside manner’. Hell, Bones had the worst bedside manner ever. But he was a damn good doctor, so it was okay. Right? “How long am I waiting?”

Bones held up a biological fluid canister, the numbers on the display counting down from 22 seconds. “I prefer printouts, but this thing tells us anything unusual. Figured it’d be quicker. We’ll get you back to annoying the crew much sooner this way.”

Jim watched the canister go all the way to ten, and then started to join the countdown. “Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.”

Bones turned it around while Jim recited the numbers. After he reached zero, the doctor flicked a dial at the side, brows getting closer together and then flying upwards and then furrowing again. It was pretty interesting to watch.

“Jim, a few months ago I had an ensign from an away mission come to me in a slight panic because he woke up as a she,” he informed him. Jim felt something creeping up his spine and tried to pretend he didn’t, because that night Had Not Happened. “I thought it was an isolated incident, so I respected his privacy and didn’t tell you. It was a temporary effect from local flora. Would you mind me asking if you also experienced this phenomenon?”

Fucking flora. “If, hypothetically speaking, I did,” Jim started, looking his doctor in the eye, “what would it have to do with my current condition?”

“Let me guess,” Bones drawled, sounding both concerned and irritated, and only Bones could manage both. “You woke up with a vagina and decided it’d be a great idea to test it out.”

“Actually, I woke up with breasts and panicked,” Jim admitted. “And if I did decide to experiment a bit, what’s it matter?”

“You’re pregnant,” Bones informed him shortly. Jim froze. “Hell if I know how it happened. I guess when you changed back, your body decided it’d be a good idea to keep the uterus. Which, by the way, is just weird. But you’re definitely pregnant, Jim. Congratulations.”

The first thing out of Jim’s mouth overlapped slightly with the last out of Bones’. “Can you take it out?”


So. Pregnant.

With a fucking baby. A bastard, technically. Did Vulcan law even allow men to get married? What did it even matter? Probably not, though. Men weren’t really given to impregnating themselves, not usually. Not ever, really. And Bones wasn’t about to let him abort the thing without thinking about it first.

The worst part, Jim thought, was that he wanted to keep it. But that would’ve been so fucking wrong. He’d get all swollen and no one would take him seriously as a captain and he’d have a kid, a kid when he was 26. And it wouldn’t even be human, and everyone would be able to tell it was Vulcan, and there was only one Vulcan on the ship—

And that Vulcan didn’t even care about him. Jim pulled the pillow over his head.

Jim wanted the baby, wanted it pretty badly. But then he’d have to make arrangements with Spock and see Spock on a regular basis and Spock would be all over the kid, and Spock didn’t want him like he wanted Spock. Spock gave two shits about him, yeah. They were friends. But Spock didn’t love him. Wasn’t going to love him, and a kid would just make him not love him all the more.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t keep it.

His door buzzed, and Jim reached over to hit the button to open it and let Bones in. His best friend’s footsteps echoed in the room, and he was so glad the man had sent him to his quarters instead of making him go on shift. The man was silent, no doubt waiting for Jim’s current thoughts. Why did he have to insist on the twenty-four hour rule? Bastard.

“Look, Bones,” he sighed, clutching the pillow tighter against his head. “I know you have that stupid rule about waiting a day before allowing anyone to have an abortion, but I’m not changing my mind. Guys don’t get pregnant for a reason.”

There was a long pause, and then a voice that was definitely not Bones’ met his ears.

“I was under the impression that males were incapable of becoming pregnant at all,” Spock’s tone betrayed a lot of emotions, though Jim didn’t know what ones. Fuck. Of all the people who could’ve walked in and heard him say that—why was he such a fucking screw-up? This definitely made it into the top five Things in My Life that Really Suck. “Perhaps you could clarify?”

Jim was silent. As if he hadn’t given Spock enough to figure it out on his own. A few long minutes passed, and then Spock’s footsteps resumed, the bed sinking under his added weight as he sat close to Jim’s feet.

“I do not wish you to abort the fetus,” Spock stated. Jim didn’t respond. What, was it some crime in Vulcan culture to have an abortion? Or was this just the ‘endangered species’ mentality talking? “I took advantage of you while you were physically and emotionally confused. I understand that such a conception would be unwanted by both parties in a significant majority of cases, but I hope it is not so in this particular instance.”

Jim was silent. And then, quietly, “Spock, I always told myself I’d never have kids with someone who didn’t love me,” he said, pillow muffling his words slightly. He was pretty sure Spock’d be able to understand anyway, so he didn’t remove it. “And regardless of how loyal you are, Spock, loyalty isn’t love. I don’t even know if you’re capable of love. And I can’t bring a child into this world with parents who aren’t in love and one parent who doesn’t know how love even works.”

The pillow was lifted off his head with a firm tug. Jim didn’t open his eyes. “I am fully capable of love, Jim,” Spock’s voice was almost...tender. Except it couldn’t be, because that would mean he was being emotional and the only time Spock was emotional was that time he throttled him against the conn and beat him halfway to a concussion. And that definitely wasn’t an emotion that would result in tenderness.

Spock’s fingers were suddenly on his face. “I am going to meld you, Jim,” he whispered, and Jim’s eyes snapped open. Before he could prevent anything, there was a ripple in his mind, and he felt himself being pulled into another consciousness.

He couldn’t concentrate on his work. He was Spock, and he couldn’t concentrate on his work. His mind kept falling back to his captain, who had so casually gripped his shoulder today, who had offered him a ‘high five’, he’d called it. The man couldn’t have known what that offer meant on Vulcan. Couldn’t have possibly realized he was propositioning him.

The door chimed, and he allowed his captain into the room, steadfastly not looking at him. He said something about breasts, and Spock answered as logically as he could, made suggestions.

‘Female mammary glands?’

And it became extraordinarily clear, even before Jim tugged his shirt up, that his captain had become female. Spock, who had already been in a state of some arousal, immediately hardened fully at the mere thought. It would be okay to seek out a romantic liaison if Jim was female. He wouldn’t need to worry any longer about the irrationality of seeking a male bondmate if Jim was female. A female Jim could provide offspring. His father would approve, the council would approve—would Jim?

He tested the waters by examining the breasts, and somewhere between the outer exploration of the captain’s new genitalia and the exploration of the inner, he lost control. Why did he need to control himself now, anyway? With every thrust he delivered into that female body, he found himself praying.

Prayer was illogical.

But still, he prayed that whatever had caused this anomaly would not be temporary. He could mate Jim, bond him, someday even breed him. He wouldn’t need to suppress the growing attachment, the affection, the love he had cultivated for this incredible person. He pounded into Jim, praying that this could bring them together.

After it was over, his seed beginning to leak from that female body (would it take? Was Jim’s new body fertile?), he found himself fighting the urge to meld Jim. And even that was forgotten as the change began to reverse itself, right in front of Spock’s eyes.

He couldn’t watch. It was as good as watching any chance at happiness with Jim slide away. So he gave instructions and left, chest aching where, if he was human, his heart would reside. There would be no family with Jim, no chance at bonding him. Not with Vulcan destroyed, not with his responsibility to his race, not with his responsibility to his father. And although he had known this would likely be temporary, he couldn’t stop himself from berating himself for ever even hoping.

The meld ended, and Jim found himself sitting up, eyes locked with Spock’s. The Vulcan was silent, but his expression said so much more than any words ever could. Barely concealed desperation and hope shone in his eyes, and there was still so much left from Spock’s mind in Jim’s. Emotional transference, right?

So much love.

Another few seconds passed by, and then Spock took one of Jim’s hands. “I cannot be certain before eighteen weeks,” he whispered, “but I think the fetus is female.”

A daughter.

Jim squeezed Spock’s hand, threading their fingers together. He wordlessly pressed a kiss to those waiting lips, pushing all his passion into it.

“So,” Jim whispered back, still brushing against those lips. “What do you want to name her?”


Tags: fandom: star trek, fic, fic: r

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