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Jim stormed into his cabin loaded for bear (or in this case, loaded for Vulcan).

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” He yelled at Spock, who was sitting on what had become “their” couch, reading a scientific journal.

Spock looked up. “What did I not tell you?” he inquired calmly.

“You’re pregnant!”

“I am not,” Spock replied, still perfectly calm (he had learned this was the very best way to deal with his human).

“I mean…I mean…you can get pregnant! Bones told me. You’re a starfish or something.”

One corner of Spock’s mouth twitched, the Vulcan equivalent of a belly laugh. “I believe you are trying to draw an analogy between the physiology of the Vulcan male and the Earth creature known as the seahorse.”

“Yeah, that!” Jim collapsed on the couch. “Damnit, Spock, we’ve been…I mean almost every night…sometimes twice…and I didn’t….Hell, I never thought to ask you if you were on the Pill!”

“Jim,” Spock said quietly, putting one arm around his t’hy’la, “calm yourself.”

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t love babies, and I’m sure I’d especially love pointy-eared babies, and the crew would be thrilled, and the new directives allow families on board for any officer above the rank of lieutenant, and Scotty would love to build a cradle, and I’ll bet Chekov knows how to make those mobile things, and Nyota would probably baby-sit, and Bones could learn enough pediatrics to do check-ups, and I could learn to knit, but we’ve never even talked about…”

“Jim.” Spock stopped the flow of words with his mouth, kissing Jim firmly into submission.

“T’hy’la,” Spock said once Jim had stopped talking, “I had not mentioned the subject because there is no need. Unlike human females, I have complete control over my reproductive facilities. My body will not conceive unless, as the humans would say, I ‘place an order for delivery.’ Therefore, you may rest assured that there will be no pointy-eared babies until such time as we are both ready…if that time ever comes.” Jim twisted around and looked more closely as his mate. Spock looked just a bit…wistful?

“Spock,” he said softly, tenderly, “do you…do you want a baby?”

“Someday, yes,” came the quiet answer. “My people have been decimated, of course, but even if that were not true, I…I would find a child to be a most precious symbol of what I feel for you. But I would not and will not pressure you into such a decision. We are young. We have time.”

Jim scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Spock and laying his head on the Vulcan’s shoulder. For a long time, the two simply sat together, enjoying the feelings of warmth and contentment that flowed between them. Then Jim said just one sentence.

“I’d better check the ship’s stores for yarn and knitting needles.”


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