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1.
The pregnancy was an accident.
Of course it was. Jim would never have gone out of his way to get knocked up; he didn’t want the uterus implanted into him after a hazy, horrifying mission on an experimental colony gone wrong, and he just couldn’t make time for the surgery to get rid of it.
It was an inconvenience, but not one he spent too much time thinking about. It’s not like the implant came with a menstrual cycle, and there’s no birth canal, so it was sort of easy to forget once outside of sickbay.
Not so forgettable to have unsafe sex with a handsome Vulcan though. Jim had been very diligent about birth control, ensuring both he and Spock were hypo’d up before getting down and dirty, but that was the extent of it. Jim never felt the need to analyse the effectiveness of the hypos, because why would he? They live in the 23rd century, birth control is pretty much guaranteed to be effective, and the uterus was going to be removed at some point anyway. No need for a thorough investigation.
It’s easy to look back and say he should have considered Spock’s hybrid biology might not work with the hypos, but it’s always easy in hindsight isn’t it?
And now here he is, six weeks pregnant.
He’s known for five days, since his quarterly physical, and he still hasn’t told Spock. Every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t force them out. It’s too intimidating.
Spock might want it. Jim doesn’t like the thought of that, but he doesn’t like the thought of Spock not wanting it either.
This whole thing is stupid. It’s frustrating. It’s so fucking unfair, and the worst part of all of it is that for the first time in his, Jim is deeply, deeply uncertain.
He doesn’t want a baby, he doesn’t want to be pregnant, he has never wanted kids. Starfleet would take away his ship, shove him behind a desk and the stars would be out of his reach forever. He’d be a terrible parent. There’s a reason he and Carol agreed he shouldn’t meet David.
He can’t imagine his body transforming around him and finding his reflection unrecognisable, his silhouette centring a swollen belly and a pillowy chest. Jim has always had a bit of a vain streak, and the idea of growing a baby bump makes him feel sick. And the nausea! Pregnant people get nauseous, that’s the last thing Jim wants. He’s got a difficult enough relationship with food as it is, adding cravings and aversions and vomit to that is asking for trouble. Plus he’d get to a point where he has to waddle everywhere, which is humiliating, and what if he ends up lactating? That’s even worse. He’ll feel like a cow. A fat, ugly, miserable cow.
And then he’d have a baby at the end. That, of course, is where the desire for abortion starts crumbling.
It’s not just any baby.
It’s his and Spock’s baby.
Jim is absolutely smitten with Spock. Spock is his other half, Spock completes him in every way, Spock is Jim’s favourite person. Jim is going to marry him once the Mission’s over, once they don’t have any non-mandatory-but-still-frowned-upon fraternisation clauses to worry about, and then after that’s done, they can sweettalk their way into being Starfleet’s first official married command team for a second deep space voyage. At least, that’s what they would do if Jim had never gotten pregnant.
But he is pregnant. And that future is in question.
Now, their future could be getting married, and raising a baby. It would be different. Not what Jim pictured for himself at all.
But if Jim thinks about Spock cradling a baby - their baby - he starts wavering. Because Spock would be an amazing dad. He’d be so good at teaching their kid everything, all about logic, all about science, and he’d be a steady, comfortable presence for them. Jim can picture it so easily, his Vulcan husband crouched by their Vulcan child, explaining how a lightbulb works, their kid all wide-eyed and listening intently. The baby would have such cute pointy ears and a beautiful little face, so Vulcan and so human, and they’d say ‘illogical’ all adorably. Spock would play his ka’athrya and sing them lullabies in his lovely, low voice, and Jim would tuck the baby in, pressing a kiss to their forehead, and stroke their brow until they fell asleep.
And that’s the problem. Jim would never have gone out of his way for it, but now that he’s pregnant, does he really want to give that possibility up? He’d never choose it in the future; there will always be a career to prioritise, an adventure to go on, something more exciting. He’s not getting any younger either; if he opts for just two more deep-space Captaincies before agreeing to settle down, he’ll probably be in early fifties, and there’s no way he’ll want to pop out a kid at that age. If he terminates, he knows that he’ll ask Bones to take the uterus out too. Knows that if he’s not having a baby now, he’s not having a baby ever.
The thoughts swirl in Jim’s mind for hours on repeat.
After a whole week of stewing in his own head and avoiding Spock’s touch in fear of telepathy revealing everything, Jim returns to his quarters after shift to find his partner standing in front of the door, hands folded behind his back. They enter the room together in silence, and Jim’s frayed nerves are on alert.
“Captain.” Spock says, and already Jim’s stomach is sinking. “You are troubled.”
Jim sucks a breath through his teeth. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, Spock.”
“I am aware.” Spock’s tone is rigid, as is his posture. “I have deduced your issue.”
A pause. Jim heart drops at the words, staring at him.
“You have?”
Spock nods, once. His face is impassive, the way he looks at strangers, not the way he’s meant to look at Jim. “It only needed logical thinking, Captain. I am a logical being.”
That’s the second Captain. Jim thinks his legs have gone a bit wobbly, so he sits on the edge of his bed before he risks them giving way. Of course Spock’s worked it out. He should have guessed. And sure, he knew Spock might have opinions, but he didn’t think he’d be so cold about it.
“As you appear to be intent on not discussing it, I will take on the decision to terminate for you.” Spock’s voice is practically robotic, dull and monotone.
“Spock.” Jim’s hands shake, and he looks at the ground beneath him. “I was going to tell you, I just needed time, I still need time.”
“I do not wish to drag it out any longer. As of this moment, consider our relationship concluded-”
“What?” Jim chokes, snapping his head up immediately. His blood runs cold, and he sees red. “What the fuck, Spock? Just because it’s taken me a week to get my head round this? I’m a human being, I have feelings about it! And this isn’t how you should tell me what you want either, you don’t decide for me. That’s not how it’s done. We’re meant to talk it through, go over gut instincts. And you’re dumping me? It takes two, yknow, this is not just my fault!”
Spock’s expression goes from painfully neutral to upset, with two furrowed eyebrows and slightly parted lips, a flicker of hurt in his eyes.
“I have attempted, on numerous occasions, to discuss this with you. Your withdrawal from me… Jim, I desire your happiness above all else.”
“How is breaking up with me meant to make me happy?”
“You do not want this.”
“I don’t know that!” Jim throws his hands in the air, anger deflating into helplessness. “I don’t know Spock. The only thing I do know is that I want you. Please don’t leave me. Or - or if you really, really want to break up, please just stay with me until after it’s over. Bones said that even if the emotion side’s fine, the recovery post-op could be rough, and-”
“Jim.” Spock interrupts with uncharacteristic urgency. “McCoy has suggested you have an operation?”
Jim blinks at him. “Well. Yes. Spock, if I’m getting rid of it, I’m getting rid of all of it, especially if we’re breaking up.”
There’s agitation in the way Spock moves to his side, hands clasping his shoulders. “You told me the outcome of your physical was that you were healthy.”
“And I am, I just - I know lying by omission is still lying, but - I did want to tell you. Really, Spock, I just… Every time I thought about it, every time I tried, it just felt like my throat was closing up.”
“Your throat has been closing up?” There’s panic in Spock’s voice that usually only ever seeps in when Jim’s in danger.
“I’m not in the mood to pretend you don’t know what a metaphor is.” Jim takes a second, studying Spock’s face, the anguish upon it. Break up or not, it’s nice to know Spock still cares about his safety. He squeezes Spock’s arm. “It’s just a hysterectomy. Plenty of people have ‘em.”
“You are… removing the uterus.”
“What’s the point of keeping it? This is the only baby I’d ever consider having, and if I’m aborting this one, I’m definitely not having someone else’s kids.”
Spock’s jaw goes completely slack. It’s terrifying. Jim is moments away from hailing Bones when he finally speaks.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yes?”
“You’re - Jim.” Spock’s grip on Jim’s shoulders tightens. “I did not know.”
“You just told me to terminate, what do you mean you didn’t know?”
“My logic was faulty, I misunderstood the reason for your withdrawal. I assumed you wished to end our relationship, I - I have made a grave error. Jim.” Spock looks like he’s the one with legs about to give way. “You are pregnant.”
“Oh.” Jim’s voice sounds small to his own ears. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
Spock takes a seat beside him on the bed, and takes both his hands. “I apologise. Ashayam, I did not intend to - You do not want to abort?”
“I don’t know what I want.” Jim shuts his eyes. “I just wish this never happened in the first place. But I can’t - Spock, it’s our baby.”
“It is not a baby yet, k’diwa.”
“It could be.” Jim holds Spock’s hands tighter, resting his head on his shoulder. “I just don’t want to have any regrets.”
“An impossible thing to guarantee.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“As I said, your happiness is all I desire.” Spock replies. “For as long as you want me, I will remain at your side.”
“Would you enjoy being a dad?”
“Vulcans do not enjoy things.” Spock kisses Jim’s forehead. “But nurturing a life that has come from you could be deeply satisfying.”
“I’ll get big. And I might get breasts. And I’ll be sick, and hormonal, and I’d want you to look after me.”
“Looking after you is my most sacred duty.”
Jim clutches Spock a bit tighter. “... Would you love them?”
“As much as I love you, k’diwa.”
“Good. That’s good.” Jim inhales the scent of Spock’s neck. “It’s going to change everything I had planned.”
“In which case, perhaps-”
“We’ll have to make new plans.” Jim says firmly, letting the decision wash over him. While he could change his mind… No. No, he’s making a choice, and he’s sticking to it. “We’re going to have a baby.”
“Yes, Jim.” Spock caresses his cheek. “As you wish.”
2.
Crouched and coughing over the toilet bowl, Jim takes a moment to wonder why the hell he’s doing this. He’s nearly in his second trimester now, isn’t the nausea meant to subside?
His stomach churns and he gags again, closing his eyes tightly. The bathroom door whooshes open, and a hand presses to his back.
“K’diwa.” Spock’s voice is soft and low. “I am here.”
Jim feels his arms shake as he retches again, tears stinging in his eyes.
“I hate this.” He manages to choke out. “I hate this so much.”
“I know, Jim.” Spock rubs his hand in a circle. “You are handling it very well. I hope this part will be over soon.”
Jim doesn’t reply, doubling over again, trying to find comfort in Spock’s presence.
The last month or so has been awful. What started out as bouts of morning sickness has become an all-day event, as if his insides are rebelling at the commitment to grow a baby. Jim has never felt so awful in his life - alongside the vomiting, he’s constantly clammy, jittery too, limbs weak and sore and so exhausted. Sometimes it’s so bad, Jim thinks of backing out. It’s not too late, he’s only twelve weeks, the embryo is basically nothing but a parasite at the moment.
But then he thinks of his first ultrasound, the awe he’d felt looking at it was like no other, and he really likes when he hears Spock say ‘our baby’. It’s just shit that he has to be the pregnant one, and he sort of wishes it was the other way around.
“McCoy has prepared a new regiment of anti-nausea hypos.” Spock murmurs, still stroking Jim’s back. “He is confident that this one will work.”
“He said that last time.” Jim grunts, and after another retch, knows that finally this bout is over. He collapses into Spock’s arms. “I’m so tired.”
“It is not surprising, considering the strain your body is under.” Spock holds Jim tight and stands, lifting him into his arms and procuring a washcloth to dab at his face. “I am hoping that your second trimester will not be as arduous.”
“This is going to start growing, so I wouldn’t bet on it.” Jim presses his hand to the firmness of his abdomen. He’s still not really showing; if not for how his waistbands are getting tight, Jim would notice nothing at all, and he’d prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible. He’s dreading the crew finding out, dreading telling Starfleet, dreading the change in how people will look at him.
“You will grow.” Spock agrees, hands settling at Jim’s hips. “It is natural.”
Jim huffs, resting his cheek on Spock’s shoulder. “Babies should just come in the mail.”
“They might in the future.”
“That’d be weird.” Jim closes his eyes again. “I don’t wanna go back to shift.”
“I can finish it for you.” Spock caresses his fingers. “Rest, ashayam.”
It’s a testament to how awful the pregnancy’s made him feel that Jim doesn’t protest at the suggestion.
3.
Starfleet regulation dictates that all pregnancies of serving personnel must be declared by fifteen weeks at the very latest. Jim, of course, left it to the very last day before informing HQ, knowing the Enterprise would be removed from his command the moment he told them.
And she was.
Jim’s final order is to make the ship turn back to Earth, to drop him planetside, and then he’s stuck there. It’s three weeks of travel at constant max warp, a substantial block of time, but Starfleet clearly doesn’t trust him to just stop off at the nearest starbase.
There are whispers throughout the ship as news of the course change spreads, questioning glances sent his way from all members of the crew. The whispering increases with the announcement of his exit from the ship, gossip spreading like wildfire.
In an ideal world, nobody would find out the truth until after Jim disembarks, taking Spock and Bones with him, so he won’t have to look anyone in the eye and confirm he’s choosing a baby over his Captaincy.
It’s doable for the first week, but by week two of the journey, it’s apparent the baby hasn’t received the ‘lay low for just a bit longer, please’ memo. His growing belly has been concealable with flattering shirts and careful sizing choices, but the baby seems to have decided they couldn’t wait any more.
Jim scowls at his reflection, twisting from side to side, hoping for an angle where his little bump is undetectable.
There isn’t one. It’s like he’s popped overnight.
He runs a hand over his middle gingerly, wondering if maybe he can pass it off as nothing but stress-related weight gain, but the shape is too distinct, and his chest is softening up to match.
“You’re naughty.” Jim mumbles to his stomach. “Couldn’t have waited another week for this?”
There’s a small fluttering from the little devil inside of him, the bubbles of movement helping to quell his frustration. It’s hard to stay mad at the baby, Jim’s heart swooping every time he feels them wiggle.
“I know, not your fault.” He slides a hand beneath his top, caressing the bare skin of his curve. “Let’s blame your dad, yeah? Yeah. All daddy’s fault.”
As if summoned, his quarters whistle with a request to enter, and Spock sweeps in, a pair of pants folded in his hands. At least sizing up those doesn’t feel as big a deal.
“Can you leave ‘em on the bed please?” Jim reaches a hand out for Spock, who meets his palm with his own, a soft telepathic tingle between them as their fingers touch. “... Everyone’s gonna know.”
“Considering the most popular rumour at the moment is that you’ve committed a crime, I think that will be beneficial.”
“What crime?”
“Espionage.”
“That’s a really good one.” Jim sighs, taking a deep breath as if he can suck in his stomach. Unfortunately, he can’t. “Spock. Tell the baby to be smaller.”
“I do not think they would listen to me.” Spock lowers his head, and rests his hand on Jim’s belly. “Choosing to have a family is not a failing, Jim.”
Jim grunts.
“Any person who would judge you for this is not worthy of your respect.” Spock pecks a kiss to his lips. “And your pregnancy does not negate your years of service. You are the greatest Captain I have ever known.”
“I don’t even get to finish the Mission.” Jim says quietly. “Six months left, and I won’t be there.”
“Ashayam, in six months, we will have a newborn baby to distract us.”
“That’s true.” Jim leans against Spock, eyes drifting to the pants on the bed. “Do you think those will last me til we’re back planetside?”
“Perhaps.”
Jim knows Spock well enough to note the twitch of doubt in his eyebrows. Bastard.
As he sort of expected, there are lots of double takes from those he walks past on his way to the Bridge, each look someone gives him making him more on edge. Spock moves in step with him, calm as ever, with the occasional curt nod to some of his science Ensigns.
It makes Jim wonder if he’s taking it for granted that Spock’s coming planetside with him. Spock loves being on the Enterprise as much as Jim does, and it’s not like he’s been given the order to leave too.
Spock could stay and take command. Jim certainly trusts him to do so.
There’s a flicker of nausea, half from the baby, half from the thought of Spock leaving him. They haven’t actually had a real conversation about it; Jim hasn’t actually asked Spock to come. Shit, he hasn’t asked Bones either.
With a brand new stress to contend with, in addition to the fact he’s showing and his crewmen are noticing, Jim’s palms get a bit sweaty. He’s been sweaty a lot recently. Maybe pregnancy sweat is a thing, but no one talks about it. He should find out.
With an internal sigh of remorse, he settles into the Captain’s chair, ignoring the way Chekov’s eyes have widened, and savours the feeling of his arm rests. He’s going to miss this sense of purpose.
“How much closer are we today, Sulu?” Jim asks in an attempt for some normalcy. It doesn’t really work, considering that they would never be returning to Earth early in ordinary circumstances.
There’s a pause.
“Twelve more lightyears to go, sir.”
Jim nods, a little distracted by whether his bump is more obvious now that he’s sitting. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Uhura glance at it.
Definitely more obvious.
One hour into the shift, and Scotty swings by to give an update on the engine status. He’s a little too direct sometimes, so Jim’s hardly surprised that he’s the one to finally address the elephant in the room after he rattles off some stats.
“And while I’m here… Are you alright Captain? You’re lookin’, well, different.”
“I’m fine.” Jim hesitates, the words ‘just pregnant’ stuck in his throat. “Stick to worrying about our engines, I’m perfectly fine.”
But now that Scotty’s broached the topic, the rest of his crew are quick to follow.
“Of course, Captain, but if you weren’t, we’d understand.” Uhura says, tone gentle. “I’ve been looking into the bylaws, there’s a thousand ways we can contest whatever they have on you. If we could build a cohesive case-”
“We can do testimonies!” Chekov adds. “Mr Spock can be your lawyer.”
“It’s just like with Finney, Captain. You’ve been falsely accused, and we can’t just let Starfleet take you off the ship.” Sulu’s voice is firm. “Spock, you proved it for him before, you can prove it again.”
“The Captain has not been falsely accused of anything, Lieutenant.” Spock shakes his head.
A pause.
“You did sell Federation secrets to the Klingons?” Scotty gasps. “Captain! I cannae believe it. There’s no way-”
“I haven’t been accused of any crime at all.” Jim interrupts.
“Then - You’re just leaving?” Sulu frowns. “We’re travelling dozens of lightyears because you’re leaving?”
“Well-” Jim starts, but Spock cuts him off.
“Captain Kirk does not owe you, nor anyone, an explanation.” His words are severe. “I would remind you that he remains our commanding officer until we disembark.”
“We?” Scotty blinks. “We’re all leavin’? Is the Mission over? What-?”
“Not at all.” Jim corrects quickly. “You’re all staying, I would tell you if the Mission was cancelled. Spock is… Spock, you’re really coming with me?”
Spock’s brows raise in bemusement. “Certainly.”
“You don’t have to.” Jim says before he can stop himself. He definitely didn’t plan on having this conversation in public. “You’d be giving up so much, you know I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You are not asking.” Spock’s eyes soften in that special way, just for him. “I am choosing.”
Jim melts, as he always does when Spock charms him. The only thing stopping him from reaching his fingers out for a kiss is a loud cough from Chekov.
“Right.” Jim’s face flushes. “Anyway. Just me and Spock. Maybe McCoy too. But I’ll ensure your new Captain will be good for the crew and good for the ship, and you’ll close out the Mission. It’s… very unfortunate. I assure you, I do not want to be leaving. I truly wish I could be finishing the Mission with you all, but regulations are regulations, and I am just as beholden to them as anyone.”
“So you did break a regulation?” Uhura pauses. “Surely your record holds some sway?”
Jim shakes his head and briefly closes his eyes. It’s going to come out anyway.
He rests a palm on his stomach, looking down at himself with a pang of upset.
He reminds himself that it’s Spock’s baby. Reminds himself that he already loves the baby.
“Pregnant officers aren’t allowed to serve on starships, Lieutenant.” Jim sighs, and caresses his little belly. “I can hardly be an effective Captain if I’ve got a growing baby to worry about.”
It’s met with a beat of silence, followed by uproar, his beloved crew apparently losing their collective mind.
He’s going to really miss being with them.
4.
Glaring at his dropped pen, Jim leans back in his seat, finger hovering over the comm button to ask for a Yeoman to come and grab it for him.
He withdraws his hand, placing it instead on his bump. At twenty-six weeks, he’s got a proper belly now, his baby taking up more and more room every day. He can feel her, she’s so much more than just a weight in his middle, little wriggles and kicks a reminder that there’s a person growing inside of him.
Having that movement is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it’s a reassurance. The baby is alive, the baby is real, it’s a reminder of the tiny little girl waiting for him at the end of all this. And on the other, it can be distracting, tiresome, and sometimes overwhelming.
Today is one of those days, much like every other day he’s spent too long at his desk. The promotion to Rear Admiral was nice, in a way - Starfleet could have completely discharged him after all - but god it’s boring. Boring, repetitive, and not at all what he wanted for himself.
The baby seems to share this opinion. There’s a pattern to her movement, a routine logic to it that she must have inherited from her father. She’s most active when Spock’s talking to her, of course she is, she’s already a daddy’s girl, writhing and fluttering excitedly the moment Spock rests his palm on Jim’s belly. Other peaks in her wiggling include when Jim coos to her, when he has a mid-morning snack, and in the evenings after a day where she clearly hasn’t received enough attention.
But the second most common cause of her kicks are when Jim hasn’t had a lot of opportunity to move. If she’s inherited logic from Spock, then she’s also inherited Jim’s restlessness.
And sitting behind a desk, signing reports and listening to meetings, makes both Jim and his baby girl very restless.
Before he had to size-up into proper maternity clothes (which, to be fair, are very comfortable), and when the baby’s wiggles were softer, Jim used to spend his lunch breaks stretching his legs, doing laps of Starfleet HQ and dropping in on anyone who happened to be in their office. Sometimes he’d take a longer break for the fifteen minute walk to the Academy, where Spock would greet him with a gentle ozh’esta and bring him to an on-campus cafe.
But then he got bigger, now he’s got a bit of a waddle going on, and Jim struggles enough with embarrassment as it is, so he stopped.
Now, the most exercise he gets during the workday is pacing the room, unless Spock or Bones coaxes him out, promising no one will look at him funny - a promise that they fail to keep.
Jim looks again at the pen on the floor, making another flimsy attempt to bend over and grab it, as if his growing middle might have disappeared since the last time.
Stupid bump.
The thought is followed by an immediate pang of regret.
“I didn’t mean that.” Jim says to his stomach. “I love you, you’re not stupid.”
Spock told him it’s illogical to think that the baby understands his speech, let alone his thoughts, but Jim worries anyway. Vulcans are touch-telepaths after all, and the baby is literally touching him all the time. Surely, she’s picking some things up.
To make extra sure, Jim tries to replace his frustration with affection via his usual method, imagining what it’s going to be like holding her for the first time, cradling her to his chest. Except now, that only makes him think of his damn chest and how swollen his pectorals are, so he reins that one in as quick as he can. Happy thoughts, loving thoughts, he can do this, just visualise Spock kissing the baby on the forehead.
He just wants the baby to be out here already. It feels like he’s got such a long time left, more agonising weeks ahead of him, his body becoming more cumbersome as each one passes.
Jim looks at the pen again, reminiscing about the simple act of bending down.
With a sigh, he swallows the humiliation, and pages for a Yeoman.
5.
“I swear, if I’m pregnant for even one more day, I’m going to die.”
“You will not die, Jim.” Spock says soothingly, caressing his bump. “I would not allow it.”
“You might explode.” Bones adds, horribly unhelpful. “You look like you’re about to pop anyway.”
Jim considers kicking him out of the house.
“Whose stupid idea was it to invite you over?” Jim grunts, folding his arms. They rest atop his belly like it’s a shelf. A few weeks ago, the thought might have frustrated him, but now he’s just too exhausted to care.
“Yours, idiot.” Bones rolls his eyes, and looks at Spock. “Has he always been this cranky?”
“I am not cranky!”
“Bedrest seems to be… unideal for Jim.” Spock replies, which might be a polite way of claiming he’s been ‘cranky’ for the past few weeks.
Jim scoffs, a bit breathlessly, and takes a deep inhale to counteract the baby’s apparent need to settle right up against his diaphragm.
Bones pats Jim’s knee. “Only a while left Jimbo. Then you’ll only have the screaming and crying to complain about.”
“Oh goody.” Jim rolls his eyes. “Please, tell me more about the wonders of parenthood.”
Spock brushes his fingers against the back of Jim’s hand, gentle comforting thoughts blanketing his mind. Thoughts like it is nearly over, our baby will love you, you are almost at the end.
Jim clings onto the fact that he’s only got two more weeks before the c-section like it’s a lifeline. Just two weeks to go. Fourteen days.
“It’ll all be worth it in the end.” Bones adds. “When I held Jo for the first time-”
“You weren’t pregnant.” Jim interrupts. “So it’s moot.”
“It is not moot. All I’m saying is that when you lay eyes on the little tyke, you’ll be glad to have done it.”
“I’ll be glad it’s done, that’s for sure.”
“As will I.” Spock tacks on, and Jim frowns at him.
“What do you have to complain about? I’m doing all the work.”
“Nothing, ashayam.” Spock strokes Jim’s brow. “I am simply anticipating the birth of our daughter.”
“Once she’s here, you’re doing all the gruntwork.”
“It is only fair.” Spock agrees easily. “You are growing a child for us. I will do anything you ask.”
Jim softens, while Bones makes a gagging noise.
“You guys are disgustingly in love. It makes me sick. I swear to god, you’ll be pregnant again in a year if you keep this sappiness up.”
“Absolutely not.” Jim places a hand on his stomach. “If I even think about keeping the uterus, one of you has to slap some sense into me.”
“With pleasure.” Bones snorts.
Spock stands at the same time Jim realises he’s getting thirsty. Wordless, he takes the empty glass on the bedside table and sweeps from the room. Jim watches him go.
“I can’t imagine doing this without Spock.” Jim muses. “He’s very attentive.”
“Who’d have guessed he had it in him?” Bones leans back in his chair. “... I’m glad you’ve got him, Jim. Don’t tell him I said that.”
“Vulcans have excellent hearing, Doctor.” Spock calls out, causing Bones to break out into a string of swears.
Jim smiles wryly and looks at his belly, more than ready for the baby to just come out and meet her family.
+1
The first thing he does is cry. He cries hard, harder than he’d cried throughout any of his mood swings, harder than anything during his labour, eyes blurry as he looks at the absolutely tiny baby placed in his arms. She’s squalling a few sobs herself, the air in her lungs brand new, and her face is scrunched, like she’s trying to hide away from the light.
Jim completely forgets that his stomach is still open, that there are still surgeons in the room removing his uterus, and the drugs are nothing compared to looking at his daughter.
He sniffs, trying to blink away the tears so he can see her clearly. She’s wrinkly like a prune, splotched with amniotic fluid, and her skin is flushed green with teeny points on her ears.
Throat raw from the previous few hours of groaning and yelling and cursing, Jim’s voice is a tad raspy as he speaks.
“Hi Saavik. Hi. You’re here! You’re here, you’re so perfect. I love you. I love you so, so much. Hi. Hi baby, hi Saavy, hi.” With a shaky finger, he caresses her cheek, and her sobbing goes quiet, eyes peeking open.
They’re hazel.
Jim beams at her, sniffling again.
“Tonk’peh, t’nash-veh Saavik.” Spock murmurs, reminding Jim of his presence. “I shall cherish you for all of time.”
“That’s daddy.” Jim whispers. “That’s your sa-mekh. And I’m your other daddy. Or your mama. Whatever you want me to be. Whatever you want sweetheart, I love you.”
Saavik stares at him, lips slightly parted. Jim strokes her cheek again, and this time she turns her head towards it, arm jerking up at the same time, hand curled in a tiny fist.
“You’re adorable.” Jim coos. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
Saavik snuggles closer into him, and in that moment, Jim knows he’d do it all again in a heartbeat, as long as it meant getting to see her little face.