Author: The Wayward Angel
Story: Ruby Lipstick
Pairings: Established Spock/Jim
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 900
Trigger Warnings: Is married life a warning?
Rating: K+
Summary: "I refuse to have my daughter looking like a harlot." "Harlot is a harsh word Jim." Plotless family fic
Disclaimer: Yeah I freaking wish I owned Star Trek…
Ruby Lipstick
"What on Earth are you wearing?" Jim exclaimed, looking down at his daughter with wide eyes.
Twelve-year-old Tatum Kirk put her hands on her hips, "Ruby lipstick." She replied, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, "I got it from Aunt Aure'."
"Go wash it off." Jim said sternly, "Now."
"Ugh, whatever." Tatum groaned, glaring at her Dad before storming off to the bathroom to wash off the makeup.
Jim sank into his recliner with a loud sigh. Spock looked up from his PADD and cocked an eyebrow, "I do not see the problem with allowing Tatum to wear lipstick if she so wishes."
"I refuse to have my daughter looking like a harlot." Jim glared in response, crossing his arms moodily.
"Harlot is a harsh word Jim." Spock scolded in return, "She is almost a teenager."
"Bad enough she's gorgeous. I have enough time fighting off those boys that already hang around her like flies without the makeup."
"You cannot hold onto her forever."
"I can hold on for just a little longer." Jim said simply before hearing a cry from the upstairs bedroom, "Looks like Mr. Fussybritches is up."
Spock mouthed back 'fussybritches' but Jim ignored his husband and stood, walking upstairs. He pushed open Michael's door and smiled brightly. The little boy was holding himself up using the bars of his crib. He did not look the least bit pleased.
"Hey buddy, you wet?" Jim asked, lifting his son out of the crib and taking him over to the diaper change table.
The eighteen-month-old whined, his lips trembling into a pout.
"Yeah, I know." Jim replied, changing his son's diaper like he'd done a hundred times before, and would do a hundred times more. "There we go," The man cooed, "All dry."
The baby giggled and lifted his arms up, smiling up at his Dad. Jim smiled in reply and picked up Michael, placing him on his hip and carrying him back downstairs. Tatum was sitting on the couch, watching TV. No trace of the ruby lipstick on her lips. "There's my pretty girl." Jim grinned.
Tatum glared, "Whatever."
"Must you be so teenage?"
Tatum frowned but did not respond.
"She gets this from you." Spock said.
"Oh haha." Jim replied.
Michael gurgled, gripping Jim's shirt tightly with one hand, reaching for Tatum with the other.
"Tatum, will you hold Michael?" Jim asked, bouncing the baby on his hip.
Tatum looked back at Jim, "Yeah, sure." She replied with a happy smile.
Jim handed Michael off to his sister and went to sit next to Spock. "What are you doing?" He asked.
"Working." Came the simple reply.
"You're always working." Jim groaned, wrinkling his nose in displeasure.
"Did you check on Sarik when you got Michael?" Spock asked.
Jim shook his head, "Since when do I need to check on him?"
Spock shrugged, a surprisingly human action, "I was only asking."
"I think he's still working on his essay." Tatum supplied.
"You wanna take Michael upstairs to play?" Jim asked.
The girl shrugged but complied and took the boy upstairs to play with his toys.
Jim grinned and straddled his husband, "You work too much." He murmured huskily, nosing at Spock's jaw.
"James," Spock said, "You have distracted me from approximately fifteen point six three minutes of work this week already. To do so further would be illogical."
"Have you ever known me to be completely logical T'hy'la?" Jim hummed in reply.
"I do see your point, Jim, however-"
"Dad? Father?"
Jim pulled himself off of Spock quickly, "Sorry Sarik." He said, flushing slightly and looking at his Vulcan son standing awkwardly in the doorway of the living room. Jim silently berated himself.
"Apologies are illogical." The seven-year-old replied.
"Of course they are." Jim sighed, "You sound exactly like your Father."
Identical eyebrows were raised.
"Did you need something Sarik?" Spock asked.
"Tatum is applying makeup on Michael. Her giggling distracted me from my research." Sarik replied.
Jim groaned, "Thank you Sarik." He said before heading upstairs.
He opened Tatum's door, catching the girl putting that damned ruby lipstick on Michael. "Tatum," He snapped in his Captain's voice, startling the girl, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Uh…" Tatum gulped, "Making Michael look pretty?" She said.
Jim quirked an eyebrow in imitation of his husband, "Did Michael ask to look pretty?"
"Not exactly…I'll clean him up." Tatum sighed.
"I want all of it gone Tatum." Jim said, "Ten minutes, then I'm coming to check on you." He said before leaving the room and rubbing the side of his face. Fifteen years ago he never would have dreamed that he'd be playing Daddy to three kids and husband to a Half-Vulcan, but he was happy. Disgustingly domestic and happy about it.
When he got back downstairs Spock and Sarik were hovered over the boy's research, Spock pointing out minor errors and suggesting ways to fix them. The boy was soaking in the information, nodding and making notes on his papers.
Jim shook his head with a smile and went to start dinner. He loved his family.