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The day Jim comes home and Cory doesn't scramble to meet him, Jim has a small panic attack. His first thought is Shit! Hie chewed on Spock's Vulcan tapestry thing and the DOG IS DEAD. He's gotten used to swearing and trying not to trip while Cory does his level best to become a snake and maybe meld into Jim's legs or jump high enough to lick Jim's face. It is comforting to know that someone is really really happy to see Jim. Everything just feels wrong without the love of a good dog (and let's face it, if Spock has ever noticed Jim's gotten home until Jim starts cooking dinner or sitting in his lap, Jim will pretty much die of shock).
So the scrambling is done by Jim, and when he gets into the livingroom he sees Spock on the floor with Cory. And a fat little...puppy. Wearing a kerchief. A blue one.
Okay, it's possible that Jim's been poisoned and it's causing hallucinations. That hasn't happened much since he stopped being in charge of a ship, but he's been well-trained so he takes a picture.
Nope, now he has a picture of Spock with two puppies. Okay, so he's not hallucinating. Also, Spock is glaring up at him.
"Hi, honey," Jim says brightly, because oh, oh yes. Spock. Has a really gay puppy. And Cory is possibly in love. Jim eyes his dog. "How was your day? Anything exciting happen? Make any more cadets cry? Anything out of the ordinary occur?" Jim sprawls out on the couch, beaming because this is so worth having to sit down and pretend that he doesn't hate Klingons with every single atom in his body for three days. "Anything at all?"
Spock's neck flushes and Jim has to fist his hands to keep from clapping in sheer unholy glee. As it is, he's grinning hard enough to break his face.
"I was reading the literature on raising dogs," Spock explains, serious like he doesn't have a hand on the back of the new puppy's head. Like he's not scritching behind puppy's ears. Puppy needs a name. "They are pack animals."
"Sure," Jim allows, because really what this is is Spock saw this puppy and had to have it. What it boils down to is Spock wanted a puppy. And Jim, come hell or high water, is going to get him to say it. "And so you...got this one out of the synthesizer? Did you custom order the scarf?"
He can't decide who he's telling first: Scotty or Bones. Bones will probably die laughing, but hearing Scotty say, "Spock got himself a wee little puppy!" might trump sending Bones into fits. It's a tough choice.
"We were walking by the bakery on 5th and he was abandoned," Spock informs Jim, glaring like he knows just what Jim's planning. "Your dog refused to leave once initial contact had been made."
"That doesn't explain a) the scarf and b) why he's here."
"He is here because my attempts to bring Cory away were met with the most piteous sounds I have ever heard. From both animals."
"So it was only logical to bring him home," Jim supplies.
"Precisely."
"And then you had to give him a bath--it's a him, right?--because, well, we can't have dirty dogs," Jim continues, and he should be getting a medal for how he's not laughing. Really. Like, fuck all those medals for heroism and valor, he wants one for best husband of all eternity.
"He is male yes," Spock agrees. "And again, your suppositions are correct."
"Oh, my suppositions," Jim snorts and then gets a grip. He clears his throat, and Cory looks up but decides his new boytoy is better and licks the other puppy's face. Okay, so maybe it's possible to die of cute. "Okay, so you got Cory a playmate because you read it in a book, and you cleaned him because he was dirty, but Spock..."
Spock sighs, and looks at him, like maybe Jim will have pity or something. Hah, fat fucking chance.
"I'm confused about the neckerchief. The blue, paisley--" and okay, yes, Jim is laughing but come on! His Vulcan husband brought home the fattest roly-poly, adorable puppy in this history of ever (Cory is Jim's baby and adorbs, but this puppy is like, chubby and cute), and is trying to blame it on the other puppy. How is this anything but hilarious?-- "neckerchief."
Spock looks shifty before he sighs and says, "He found it under the bed. It was...aesthetically--" he breaks off with a longsuffering sigh as Jim pitches forward and almost hits his head on the side of the coffee table, howling with laughter. "Jim."
"Don't worry, baby," Jim croons, crawling over to drape over Spock's back and nuzzle his neck. "I won't tell anyone that you wanted a puppy."
"You will tell everyone," Spock disagrees, reaching back to rest his hand on the nape of Jim's neck. "And include the picture."
"Okay," Jim admits. "But I will let you pick who I send it to first."
Spock picks McCoy, which Jim thinks is because he hopes that Bones has a fit and actually dies of laughter (they love each other--Jim just can't prove it).
Bones does a lot of handwaving, laughing and wheezing and eyes streaming, but he's so far beyond speech he can't mock Spock at all.
The puppy's name is Shawn.
Jim's not sure when that happens--at some point he goes from being "the puppy" to being Shawn, and Jim ends up having to take the dogs for separate walks because Cory comes with Jim on his morning runs and and Shawn just wants to investigate things, and then maybe take a fortifying nap.
Jim privately thinks that Shawn was meant to be a cat, and someone got confused, but whatever. He loves Spock with wild abandon, and whimpers when Spock leaves.
Jim's not saying that Spock sometimes takes Shawn to Starfleet Academy and lets him sleep in his doggy bed behind Spock's desk while Spock terrifies the next generation of Starfleet officers...
But he's also not saying he doesn't have photographic evidence of that shit:
(by cannedebonbon)
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