It had come as quite the surprise, when Nyota'd clutched at his arm with that concerned, steely grip of hers, her fingers curled as she'd winced in discomfort, dark eyes shining with warning.
Spock had never been all that insightful, as least when it came to the emotional side of things (something Amanda had always been exceptionally gifted with), and so he'd initially been confused, sending his wife strange, imploring looks as she'd grimaced, standing with one palm pressed tightly to her back and the other sliding down her round stomach carefully, almost tenderly.
She'd murmured, quiet and certain, "The baby.".
And that was how Spock quickly gained insight over the next several hours, how he was all but forced to search for the thoughts written in Nyota's gaze, how he learned, hastily and partly, to look for the signs of pain, so that he could get her what she needed, or the lax moments that let her breathe easy, so that he could sit beside her and take her hand and almost feel a smile curl his lips.
He was content, though, with instead seeing the smile spreading on her face, seeing the light in her stare as she rested her head against the pillows, her hold tight and sure in his own. He thought that his heart was beating in time with her own, pulse rapid and fluttering beneath his skin, and, for once, Spock felt something other than the need to push what he was feeling far from his mind. Rather, he felt the need to show it, and so he squeezed her hand, nodding in reassurance as she took a deep, preparatory breath, her cheeks flushed as strands of hair stuck to her neck.
Far into the night, with the crew waiting eagerly outside the door, there was a cry, and Nyota's relieved, tired laughter echoed in the room, and Spock gazed watchfully as Bones brought forth a child in his arms, a squirming little thing with tiny, groping hands stretched out and ready to grab at anything they could, and he took the baby into his arms, wrapping the pink blanket more securely about her warm, wiggling body as, slowly, she opened her eyes, and he stared into those dark almond irises, feeling the press of her tiny head against his palm. Nyota watched him, smiling lovingly with tears in her eyes, as he tucked the blanket under her chin, running his fingertip along the tiny pointed tip of her ear, feeling the soft texture of her mocha skin.
He glanced up, catching sight of his wife and her bright, glorious grin, and, for the first time in a long while, he felt a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, aware of the small baby cradled in his arms, and he felt afraid to let her go.
It was illogical, but he'd never felt, had never known, anything so right in all of the years before.
Based on a prompt given by majestrixstormbringer over on Tumblr.
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