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Special thanks to my beta Notes from the classroom. Check out her latest, "My Mother the Ambassador," in my faves.
A Little Penis Story
"I'm really sure you'd like it if I gave you authorization to travel in Bajoran airspace, but it's not going to happen," Captain Kirk says, restraining a sigh and resisting the urge to look down at the lush display of green cleavage in front of him. He succeeds on the first, but fails on the second. How do Orions manage to maintain such impressive cleavage without any visible means of real support?
Said cleavage pushes nearly to his own chest. Jim manages to make eye contact with its owner. She has red hair like Gaila, but her eyes are hard and black. "Are you sure?" she purrs.
"Yes," says Jim without hesitation.
Her brow contorts into a look of confusion. "I would expect that answer from him," she says, eyes going to Spock in science blues standing to Jim's left. "But not from you."
Jim holds up his left hand and displays the titanium wedding band there. "Bonded to a Vulcan." And therefore immune to Orion pheromones - if not quite immune to their physical aspects.
The Orion's eyes go between him and Spock and her voice becomes suddenly hopeful. "To each other? Would you like an occasional third?"
Spock's eyebrow quirks.
Jim rolls his eyes. "No, we're just good friends." Can't guys be just friends anymore? Really, Jim's the first to admit that if he were gay, he'd be all over Spock. Spock's smart, funny, a good looking guy, and Jim's best friend. But Jim's not gay, so that's a moot point.
The Orion tilts her head and smiles. "But Vulcan males are bisexual, and on Orion, good friends -"
"This is Deep Space Nine," says Spock. "We are human and Vulcan, and my wife would kill me...if his wife didn't first."
The Orion sighs and turns away. "Vulcans and humans are so repressed."
"Bye, bye," says Jim with a smile, completely happy with his state of "repression."
As soon as she's gone, Jim checks his chronometer.
"What time is it?" Jim says - his chronometer is Spock.
"Your shift was over 5 minutes ago," says Spock, putting his hands behind his back.
"Crap, I'll be late," says Jim, turning around on Deep Space Nine's promenade and heading for the living quarters.
Jim's 45 years old, the youngest Captain of a deep space station in history. In another life he would have been gallivanting around the galaxy on a mission of pure space exploration at this stage in his life...but that was a life that hadn't experienced war with Romulus, a life where the wormhole over Bajor and contact with the hostile alien race known as the Dominion wouldn't be for another hundred years or so.
This was the most exciting job in the galaxy in this life, and Jim was pretty happy to have it. It had its advantages, too; Deep Space Nine wasn't a bad place to have a wife and kids. In another life he'd had a secure childhood and deep bonds with his parents to buttress him. In this life...not so much. Sometimes he might refer to his wife T'Pring as "the ball and chain," sometimes their kids drove him up the wall - okay, most of the time, but his wife and his children, they are his anchor, in a good way. They help him focus on what is really important. And his wife in particular has probably saved his professional reputation from being besmirched by manipulating females of several species, and from more xeno-venereal diseases than he cares to think about.
Falling into step beside him, Spock says, "I was wondering, perhaps you could join me for a game of chess this evening?"
For a moment Jim pictures it, Spock and himself on one of the upper promenades, Bajor a glowing blue ball in the window, with no sound except the throb of DS9's engines and Spock and Jim's occasional verbal sparring. It's so...idyllic. He sighs.
Then he imagines T'Pring with apple sauce in her hair, a heavy cooking utensil in her hand, their little boy screaming at her feet as she stands looking calmly at Jim - fighting the urge to rip Jim's eyes out.
"Uh...I think I'll pass on that, Spock," Jim says. "We already did our boys' night this week. And I can't leave T'Pring alone with the ruffian too much, she'll kill me. Or the ruffian will break into an air duct, find his way to the main reactor, and destroy all of Deep Space 9 by shoving one of his model shuttles into an intake valve. " Jim smiles at that image. Not without some pride.
Spock doesn't sigh. Ostensibly. But the soft exhale of air might as well be one.
Jim blinks. "Wait...are you and the Ambassador fighting again?" Uhura, Spock's wife and bond-mate and Jim's former communications officer, is now the Ambassador to the Gamma Quadrant, the region beyond Bajor's wormhole.
Spock doesn't answer. Which is an answer.
Jim squints. "You guys don't even have kids...what can you possibly fight about?" Really, the kids are the only thing T'Pring and Jim ever fight about, and Jim isn't that easy of a guy for a Vulcan to live with. Jim is a squeeze the toothpaste from the middle kind of guy, and Vulcans are all of the squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom because it is oh-so-logical sorts. Of course, Uhura is probably a squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom type, too, because she is just so freaking put together and neat and tidy and perfect...so what could they possibly have to argue about?
Spock doesn't answer. Which might be an answer.
"Are you fighting about whether or not to have kids?" Jim says, turning to look at his stoic science officer.
Spock raises an eyebrow and gives Jim a sideways glance.
Jim claps Spock on the shoulder. "Just do it, man! Despite the sleepless nights, the lack of sex, the inability to take a real vacation, and the disappearing credits, it is the best thing ever!"
Spock takes a deep breath and looks towards the ceiling. "You sell the experience so well."
Jim scowls. "You just can't explain the good parts to people who don't have kids." Shrugging, he says. "You really can't. All that's bad is quantifiable, all that is good...isn't. I mean, they just make you want to rip your heart out for them, or throw yourself under a hover bus for them. It's an amazing feeling." One that seems to be shared by all species whose offspring are born helpless and in need of protection - it's convergent evolution, and it makes Jim feel connected to the aliens of the larger universe.
Pausing in his tracks, Spock says, "Do not try to sell this experience to anyone. You are failing miserably."
Blinking, Jim tries to come up with a suitably witty rebuttal. "Well-"
Interrupting Jim's as yet unformed thought, Spock says, "Couples who have children are significantly less satisfied in their partnerships than people without."
Rubbing his head, Jim sighs. "That's true. Until the kids grow up and leave the house. Then couples who have children are happier than those who never did...on average, of course."
Spock raises an eyebrow. It's the "Yeah right" eyebrow raise.
"Look it up, Spock," Jim says.
Spock just stares at Jim. It's Spock's, "I will hate you forever if you have some verifiable piece of knowledge that I don't have" stare.
"You'll never hate me, Spock!" Jim says. "Why, I'm like yours and Uhura's only child."
Spock does sigh. "That is true."
A few paces later they part ways for the evening. Jim walks down the hall to his quarters. Pressing the access code, he steps into a scene of pure domestic tranquility. Sitting at the counter in the kitchen are his twin daughters, T'Pelna and T'Pol. Across from them is T'Pring, leaning over a PADD and pointing at something with a stylus. They're so engrossed in whatever they're looking at they don't even acknowledge Jim's entrance.
And that's alright. Three kids and 12 years since their marriage began, T'Pring is still really beautiful. It's nice to have this moment just to admire her. T'Pring taps something on the PADD and T'Pelna and T'Pol ask a question in unison. His girls are 11 years old now. They take after their mother, pointed ears, delicate features and lithe builds - and they are identical.
Spock, Uhura, and T'Pring state that the preponderance of evidence points to a universe without a god. Jim knows that T'Pelna and T'Pol are proof to the contrary.
Once, long-ago, before T'Pring, Jim's greatest ambition outside of being the youngest starfleet Captain in history was to have sex with identical twins. He'd fulfilled that ambition with identical triplets - he was something of an overachiever. But now he has identical twin baby girls of his own and he knows that there are men out there like his younger self who will one day chase his babies with great gusto and no heart.
Having to live with that knowledge every day is proof that there is a God; and She-He-It is cruel and vengeful.
Jim sighs. Bones has an adage he likes to say, "With a little boy you have to worry about one little penis, with a little girl you have to worry about all the little penises." With identical twin girls Jim has to worry about all the little penises twice.
He suddenly has an urge to sharpen the kitchen knives. Walking over to the counter he blinks.
...their quarters are unusually quiet. Too quiet. The thought sparks across the bond, and his and T'Pring's eyes meet.
All of a sudden, a blur appears in the periphery of Jim's vision. George, their two-year old son, has a fork upraised and is charging forward - directly at a power outlet.
Running forward almost colliding with T'Pring, Jim intercepts George just before he reaches his intended target with his "spear."
Hoisting his son up into his arms, Jim says, "Gotcha!" and exhales a loud breath. George lets out a furious wail and aims the fork at Jim's eyes. Jim spins the little guy around just in time. The fork slams, relatively harmlessly, into Jim's hand.
"Arrrrrggghhhh!" Jim says. He puts the hand to his mouth, letting the still wailing, now kicking and punching George hang like a sack of potatoes by his one arm.
"Why weren't you watching him?" Jim says to T'Pring.
She straightens. "I have been watching him all day." Her face is perfectly calm, but Jim can feel her desire to shake him through the bond. "T'Pol and T'Pelna asked me for help on their science fair project."
Jim looks towards his daughters, sitting quiet and poised on the counter stools. They're trying to splice the genome of blue-green algae with a creature that derives its sustenance from Dark Energy. Such a creation could create whole new food chains on planets without much sunlight and low ambient temperatures. It's very interesting...
George's wail increases in volume. JIm tries to hand him to T'Pring. "Here, you take him, I'll handle the girls."
T'Pring's eyes narrow. She makes no move to take George. Across the bond she says again, I have been watching him all day.
Jim swallows. Watching George is...stressful. George wants to be out of their living quarters from the moment he gets up to the moment he goes to sleep. He has no fear of heights - not only will he climb up on top of the couch's back, he will dance there. George chases after cargo units on the promenade. He wants to explore every single electrical outlet with electricity conducting utensils, finds fire positively mesmerizing, and wants to taste every single toxic substance in the house or around the station. Also, he has managed to destroy every single safety lock and cover they've put on the toilet, outlets, and cupboards with sheer force...and kitchen utensils.
Jim and T'Pring thought raising twin girl toddlers was hard, but George...it's like the little guy has a death wish. Also, he bites. And kicks. And hits. And that's when he's feeling friendly.
"Alright," says Jim, "I'll take George for a walk." Maybe they'll go to visit Uncle Spock and Aunt Uhura.
T'Pring's body relaxes slightly.
Jim sighs. "Why did I ever want a boy?" Jim says and immediately feels a pang of guilt. That is wrong to say, especially in front of his kids...so wrong...and yet..his girls never ONCE tried to spear a power outlet with a fork after a running start.
T'Pring's eyes narrow.
From the counter T'Pol says, "You said it was because you didn't want to be the only penis in the house."
Jim's eyes go wide and he purses his lips. They heard that?
Raising a delicate eyebrow, T'Pelna says, "A synonym for penis is dick."
"Hey!" says Jim scowling. "None of that language."
"But it is only a synonym for male anatomy," says T'Pol..
Across the bond from T'Pring, Jim feels a wave of confusion. Vulcan minds are very literal; she found nothing wrong with a synonym for male anatomy - slang or no.
T'Pol and T'Pelna blink innocently. But they're not innocent; they're half Vulcan and understand the other meaning for said slang perfectly.
"What is wrong?" says T'Pring.
Jim huffs. "It's another word for jerk."
T'Pring raises an eyebrow; across the bond comes another wave of confusion. "A sharp pull?"
Minute smirks tug at T'Pol's and T'Pelna's lips. Brilliant tacticians that they are, they also know that their mother will never fully comprehend the illogical double meaning of the word 'jerk.'
George screams in Jim's arms. "Never mind," says Jim carrying his screaming, kicking son to the door.
T'Pol and T'Pelna's lips turn up a little more. Jim narrows his eyes at them. They are so evil, and yet Jim is so proud - and so whipped.
He steps out of the family quarters and lifts George so they are eye to eye.
Physically aggressive as George may be, Jim never expects the same sort of psychological aggression from his little guy. "That's why I didn't want to be the only penis in the house," Jim says.
With a wide grin George slaps him across the face.
A/N:
Hey all! I took a little break and went out to Thor land and wrote a fic there. But this piece of fluff has been brewing in my mind forever. (It's a sort of sequel to "Logical Propositions." Check it out if you like this pairing.)
I was going to write a Spock/Uhura/kid!fic...but when I was writing it my husband, bless him, started nagging me to write an original fiction instead. So I did. It's on Amazon Kindle (if you don't have a Kindle you can download a reader for your PC free). It's only 99 cents and it helps me keep writing fanfiction!
The links to Amazon, Amazon DK and UK are in my profile.
Alternatively, you can try this link for the U.S. - just remove the spaces and change dot to a dot:
amazon dot com/Murphys-Star-ebook/dp/B006RCYQUA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1328295357&sr=8-1
My next original fiction will be a novel length Myth!Loki story.