Actions

Work Header

Thanks for the Memories

Chapter Text

Spock tugs his collar higher to shield more of his face absentmindedly as the ship docks. He pays the excited rounds of hoorahs from the people around him no mind, quietly flicking the page on his pad. He was reading into the quantum physics of energy and matter of the new transporter being manufactured for an upcoming ship. The engineers are getting rapidly closer to transporting more than ten figures in an astonishing rapid speed of 0.58 seconds.

His reading shortens for approximately 0.39 mseconds when a dainty hand touches his clothed shoulder. He looks up at his smiling mother, waiting for a reason for the sudden contact, but her smile only turns brighter. Spock’s eyebrows furrow, not understanding an act with no reason, but she was his illogical mother, who he was used to by now at the age of five.

Spock feels the blood vessels in his cheeks dilate as her smile turns impossibly warmer and brighter at the mere fact that they are now on her home planet. He turns back to his pad, reading on with his studies.

It is not logical to have a favorite planet, but his mother has continuously explained that it is relieving to be back in her own ‘terf’. Terf, Spock had defined it to be a human way of describing homeland. She went on to explain that it was comforting to be somewhere familiar. Spock, by the help of his father, understood that his mother did not have personal relations with any Vulcan back home. His father pointed out that humans have a tendency to crave relations amongst other people. It was this that brought Amanda on all her husband’s diplomatic travels. Amanda was such a likable person and was well-known through the galaxies.

They had recently left Atlec for a diplomatic conference. Spock, unfortunately, had to endure a two-day shopping spree with his mother and her friend, Isabel. His mother had informed him that Atlec has the most beautiful art galleries. Spock had spent the entire reading about DNA cloning.

Now, they are on Earth for another peaceful conference at Starfleet Headquarters. Spock can tell by the excitement and glee seeping from his mother’s hand, that she was most thrilled to be on her home planet. Spock does not need to turn his head to read his father. He knows through his parental bond that his father found the Terrans most interesting, but he would never admit it.

The doors open with a ‘swoosh’, and people leap out of their chairs to the exit. Spock remotely stands and hides his pad in his robe.

“Now, Spock, you are going to be respectful to Captain Kirk and Commander Kirk,” Spock’s mother warns lightly. Spock furrows his eyebrows for only a second before returning to neutral.

Retired Captain Kirk and Commander Kirk have been his mother’s friends since they were at the Academy. The three of them never once went a year without indulging Amanda’s ‘need’ to reunite with her best friend, Winona Kirk. They only stay for a week and no more, and the week consisted of Spock reading quietly in his assigned room or waiting for his father to come home to learn more about the Federation. George and Winona Kirk have a son, Sam, but the six year old never shows any interest in Spock, so they mutually dodge each other’s company – against Spock’s mother’s wishes.

“I do not see why you need to clarify that statement, Mother,” Spock notes as the three of them exit the ship. “I show a zero percent rate of rebelling against your desire for my spotless behavior.”

Amanda’s eyebrows reach her forehead with mock offence. “Oh? What about that time on planet Cait, where you left right after lunch for the library, even though, I specifically asked you to stay to make friends with Nicole’s daughter, Julianne.”

Spotting the mood and sense of challenge, Spock retreated, “I will be respectful to our hosts, Mother.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile and running a hand through Spock’s black hair. Sarek grabs their two accompanying bags and carries them out wordlessly.

Spock tightens his robe around himself, slightly shivering at the cooler temperature. The green of the planet takes him by surprise as it usually does so, and he follows his parents to a shuttle. The variety of species among him has him double-looking, remembering his schooling on their planets and characteristics. His father informs him to always take in as much information as he can. There is never a non-learning moment.

He returns to his studies once he’s seated on the shuttle. It’s an hour ride, and it is approximately 14:35 when they approach the Kirk’s home. He is unable to suppress a shiver as he jumps out of the shuttle, and his mother runs her hand down his arm to warm him up. She does it again to his other arm, and Spock does not sigh, “Mother, please.”

His mother ignores him, eyes pop with joy and smile wider than normal, “Winona! How lovely to see you!”

“There is no need to shout, Amanda,” Sarek comments dryly beside Spock, but Amanda pays him no mind. The two Vulcans watch Amanda race to a grinning Winona’s side and immediately bringing her into a hug. The two female women hug, giggle, and gossip as Sarek and Spock walk over – making brief eye contact with George Kirk. Sam walks beside his father, showing no interest as he plays a game on his pad. The only hint of acknowledgement Sam gives them is a quick glimpse and nod. Spock notices Sam has gotten taller since he last saw him.

Spock watches as George Kirk and his father exchange greetings, before stepping up and nodding, “Hello, Captain Kirk. Commander Kirk.”

George smiles and nods back, “Pleasure to see you again, Spock. How is school going?”

“Adequate.”

Winona takes a step back from Amanda, turning to greet Sarek, “Hello, again, Ambassador. Hello, Spock.”

“Greetings, Commander Kirk,” Sarek responds with a curt nod.

Spock’s eyes fly down to the lower abdomen of Winona’s frame. “You are with child,” he states simply.

“Spock!” his mother shouts.

Spock’s eyes fly from his mother to the Kirks, who beam at the comment. He watches the woman smile lovingly at her stomach as she runs a light finger along the bump. George wraps his arm around his wife. “We are Spock. His name will be James. We’re expecting the little guy in three months.”

As if realizing her son did not offend her friends, Amanda gasps in delight and claps her hands, “I’m so excited for you! Another bundle of joy!”

Winona and George smile at each other, seeming to communicate telepathically, but that would be impossible. Spock tenses as he is hit with love, excitement, and thrill. It lights the air like static, and he works hard to enforce his walls to not be so affected. His father has taught him better control.

“Sam, here, is ecstatic for a little brother. Aren’t you?” Winona lightly scolds her first born into the conversation. Sam peers up from his game and gives his mother a small smile and a roll of his eyes. Spock ponders on the reason of the action. Did he have something in his eye?

“So excited for someone to break everything and keep me up for the next three years.”

“Hey,” George grunts with a weak smack to the back of his son’s head. “You’re going to happily ask your mother for help with your brother.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Spock watches as his mother comes closer to Winona Kirk with her hands displayed outwards. “May I?”

“Certainly,” Winona permits with a turn of her hips.

Spock stands there quietly as his mother places her hands on Winona’s protruded belly and coos. Proudness beams in Winona’s eyes and the delighted sounds from his mother shows Spock that whatever was going on was not a bad thing.

He wants nothing more than to ask the reasoning of his mother’s actions. He tilts his head in confusion, deciding to remain silent. The Commander coos along with his mother, bringing her own hands down to place beside his mother’s. It was a befuddling moment, and he peers up at his father for answers, but his father is silent as well. His face is neutral and stoic.

Wanting to be like his father, Spock works to make himself appear unaffected.

George claps his hands, “Time to go inside. I believe dinner is almost ready! Don’t worry, I got you two vegetarian lasagna to share.”

“That is acceptable, Captain,” Sarek says as he follows the Kirks inside. Spock stays behind with his mother.

His confusion bubbles his senses, and he parts his lips, “Mother, why did you hold Commander Kirk’s stomach?”

“To feel the baby move, darling. It is a very beautiful thing,” Amanda answers easily.

Spock raises an eyebrow at the answer, but chooses not to extend the subject. Why to feel a fetus move would be beautiful – he will never understand.

Dinner is a pleasant event with the Kirks talking kindly with his parents, and every now and then throwing a question out there for Spock including his school subjects and future plans to join Vulcan Council.

Spock knows lying is not the Vulcan way, so he retains the Vulcan Council conversation to a short two questions. He only admits the importance and logical reason to join the council, and how it would be dishonoring to not join after his father.

Spock does not take offense to Sam not conversing with him. He is well aware Sam and him do not share beliefs or interests, so it would be illogical to start a conversation that would only end a minute later and with little enlightenment.

He finds his attention on Winona Kirk throughout the dinner. He finds himself drawn to her, and he shuffles his feet illogically as he feels her emotions beam right across the table to him. It was not like this the last time he was in the accompany of Commander Kirk. He never felt the need to look at her, nor has he ever felt the will to return a kind smile.

Spock takes the last piece of energy to throw up a wall to block the emotions, and that is when dinner is over. Winona stands, collecting the dishes one-by-one before leaving for the kitchen.

An elbow nudges his shoulder, and he looks up at his mother, who whispers, “Help, Mrs. Kirk, darling.”

“Yes, Mother,” Spock immediately answers. He takes the remaining dishes and enters the kitchen. He places them in the filling sink Winona has started. Winona smiles at him.
“Will you help me dry and put them away, Spock?”

“Yes, Commander Kirk.”

“Winona is fine, Spock. You know this,” she teases. “Do you want help on the counter? Think that’ll help.”

Spock eyes the cupboard two feet above him. “That would suffice.”

Winona laughs heartily, and she picks up Spock and places him on the counter. Spock hitches his breath when she accidentally touches his hand. Instantaneously, his walls are shoved aside, tearing and crumpling from an unknown power. It reminds Spock of when he witnessed his pet sehlat ripping apart an animal similar to a Terran’s scorpion if they were ten times the size. It puts him in a frozen stance.

A tornado of emotions wrapped in a blanket of warmth flood through the gates to his mind, covering and berating his mental state. It all succumbs his own personal thoughts, fitting into the slots like puzzle pieces he’s once played with his mother. The complexity and strength of it overwhelms Spock, and he loses conscious temporarily.

He wakes on the granite floor 11.5 feet away from Commander Kirk. The blonde human is startled, eyes creased with worry and her hands outwards.

“Spock?”

“My apologies,” Spock chokes out. Apologies are not a Vulcan custom, but humans tend to forgive when such words are said with a standard amount of emotion. He does not want to stress the woman more. “I-I have not been in touch with such…strong mentality. My walls could not hold. I will strengthen them through the means of meditation.”

Winona does not seem convinced, worry covering her facial features. Her brown eyes sparkle with precipitation. She parts her lips, eyes moving – configuring how to put the appropriate words together. “Spock, I’ve touched you before by accident in the past. I even held you as a baby. You’ve never reacted this way.”

Spock slowly stands, tugging on his robe to straighten his attire. He clears his throat before speaking, “I will add that information to my study in order to form a hypothesis. I will meditate heavily on this issue to gain a solution.”

Winona purses her lips, “Alright.” She turns to put her focus back on cleaning the dishes. Spock joins her in small strides to assist her – careful not to initiate contact – and he is too busy working and constructing his walls again to notice the human woman looking downwards. He has heard from his father how astonishingly stubborn the Kirk family members are, and Spock hypothesizes that she is trying to conclue why a Vulcan child she’s known all his life reacted the way he did when she touched him. The chances of her getting to an answer is incredibly low due to humans not understanding the science behind Vulcans and touch telepathy –

“I’ve never touched you while pregnant, haven’t I?”

Spock works through the Terran grammar, not used to double negatives. His mother is careful with the way she speaks around them and other Vulcans. Taking the situation, the mood, and tone in consideration, he comes up with an answer, “Negative.”

Winona goes back to washing a pan, but her thoughts are elsewhere. Spock’s father never hesitates when he has something to say. It is not logical to halt from saying a statement that will inevitably come out in the end.

His mother, on the other end of the spectrum, takes a more hesitant approach with her words. She arranges her words in a way, that she does not offend the person she is talking to. It is illogical based on the fact that she lives on Vulcan – a planet committed to erasing the emotions in decision-making.

Spock sees it as a positive enforcement. The loving, gentle words from his mother while all his fellow students bullying and isolating him was a beacon of hope. It was a path that leads him to his life development. The human side craves for his mother’s sweet, thoughtful words, while his Vulcan side wants to push it away. He desires nothing, but to follow his father’s footsteps in the world of logic and politics. Though, he cannot help but admit that his mother and her human ways was sometimes the way to proceed.
It was because of his mother that he knows Commander Kirk has something to say. A statement that will possibly change the way the night goes.

As he does with his mother, he remains quiet. He dries off the dishes the blonde human gives him, stacking them in the cabinet. He has to leap on the counter again to reach the height, and the room is silent for 7 minutes and 46 seconds.

Winona washes her hands once finished, drying them with a rag. She sighs lowly, leaning a hip on the counter a few inches from Spock, who is still sitting on the counter. Spock is unable to fight the dilating blood vessels in his ears, so he knows his ears are green while Winona studies him.

“Can I try something, Spock?”

“I give my full consent, Commander.”

Winona grins, shaking his head, “Back to Commander?”

“Winona,” Spock corrects.

Winona pauses, then jolts in action like a leap of faith. Spock tenses when she grabs his clothed wrist. She maneuvers his hand to her waistline and stops. Spock twitches in her hold, fighting for only a moment to remove his person. He does not understand the human woman’s intention, but she has never done anything to put him danger.

“Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Winona demands gently.

Spock furrows his eyebrows, “Vulcans do not get uncomfortable-“

“Spock.”

If Spock was completely human, he would have not held back a sigh. “Very well.”

Spock instinctively tugs away from the hold, not wanting to join contact with her again after the strong reaction earlier. The only contact he has grown accustomed to was the small touches with his mother, who is human with no telepathy.

Though, the warmth radiating off Winona’s skin steals his attention, and he lets her bring his hand in contact with an exposed piece of skin on the lower part of her bump.
His mind is instantly snatched and pulled in multiple directions. The whirlwind of his mind and a foreign mind fight for control, and a scorching rope band them together. Naïve, short-living thoughts mix with his more clear, organized ones. The foreign mind drawls him in, leeching onto him. Calm, yet elegant pink and red colors blind him, and Spock tries to focus on a thought, but they all end before they truly start.

It is…fascinating.

Innocence, confusion, intrigue, interest are all states of mind that he is swarmed with, and he holds onto them tightly. He guides and comforts the confusion and innocence, showing his own thoughts and memories to display fairness.

Lights flicker along the string that connects him to the foreigner. It was not Winona he was melding with. It was far too ecstatic, naïve, chaotic, and curious. The curiosity was strong, rope and string tying and dragging Spock inside.

Something snaps in the meld, similar to a light being switched on. It takes Spock’s breath away, and the connection is broken by him removing himself from Winona’s form.
It is excruciating to break the contact, and he realizes how his sehlat felt when his mother hosed him down with water when he got caught in a flesh-eating pollen brush.

Shocked, scared, frustrated.

He can sense Winona’s brown eyes staring deep into him. She is searching for an answer, but Spock cannot bring his thoughts together to form a sentence.

He wonders if the Commander’s unborn son will have her or her husband’s eyes.

The compatibility and connection are undeniable. The connection demands to snap back into place. It squeezes the Vulcan’s airways, hauling him in with the promise of contentment.

It was enthralling, the idea that his thoughts fit so well with another being was fascinating, and it only results into one solution.

“Spock?”

Winona’s astonished call of his voice snaps Spock back into reality. The Commander looks a step away from taking Spock into her arms to soothe him. Spock straightens his body, hitching a breath and forcing his body into false relaxation.

He lengthens the space between them when she takes a step. The foreign mind teases the edges of his mind, and he slams his walls back up. His eyes flicker down to Winona’s lower abdomen.

“It seems your unborn child is my bondmate.”

W-What? Spock, what does t-that-“

“I must meditate,” Spock chokes out with one last burst of control. He swirls around and dashes out of the kitchen. He races past his parents and Captain Kirk, ignoring the shout from his mother. He goes to his assigned room and refuses to admit he emotionally slams the door.