Greetings, fellow earthlings. Here's a fluffy piece I'm posting mostly in an effort to cheer myself up on back to school week (ugh). And nothing delights me more after a long day of mind-numbing education than to see some kind reviews from you readers. So please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nada. Gene Rodenberry, Paramount, and J.J. Abrams do.

Jim Kirk's shore leave officially began the moment his feet touched the ground in San Francisco, and from there, they took him to a modest three bedroom house in the suburbs near the city. It wasn't the old farmhouse in Iowa, it wasn't the familiar interior of the Enterprise, but as long it harbored his family, it was home.

Which was why he felt it perfectly appropriate to announce his arrival with a shout of, "Spock, I'm hoooome."

His first officer (who was accustomed to Jim's antics at this point in their relationship, and therefore unsurprised when he barged into their house in such a fashion) looked lost, clearly missing the classic Earth television reference. Jim was honestly too happy to care. Absence did make the heart grow fonder, no matter how cliché it sounded, and almost five months away from his Vulcan was plenty enough time to facilitate an appreciation of even his most irritating habits.

"Welcome home, t'hy'la," greeted Spock, touching two fingers to Jim's own. The captain immediately felt the warmth of his welcome seep through their bond.

"Glad to be back. God, I missed you," chuckled Jim, and pulled Spock into a passionate kiss, releasing all the pent up desire their separation had amassed. In spite of his stoic nature, Spock responded in kind, betraying the reserved gesture of affection he gave before. Although it wasn't spoken aloud, Spock definitely returned the sentiment.

When they parted for a much needed breath of air, Jim was still smiling. "Where are they? Napping?"

Spock nodded, regaining his usual composure. "In the nursery. Come."

He led Jim upstairs and past two bedrooms before halting in front of the third. Inside the brightly decorated room, there were two cradles. Spock and Jim approached slowly, careful not to make any noise.

Jim beamed down at his beautiful children, watching as they slept. Fatherhood had never been something he actively pursued, nor a responsibility he had ever felt truly prepared for. Ready or not, though, he was now the proud father of twins he had adored from the moment he laid eyes on them. And what a sight they were. Call him conceited, but James T. Kirk sired a good-looking pair of kids — with a bit of input from Spock, of course.

Solkar 'Sol' Kirk had a head of black hair already and a pair of large, stunning blue eyes that could compel even the most stubborn hearts to melt. His sister, Amanda Kirk, had a few wisps of curly blonde tresses to her own head and a set of dark, hazel eyes that Jim had a sinking feeling would one day be his undoing. Both had the pointed ears and upswept eyebrows of their Vulcan ancestors, but their hearts pumped red blood instead of green, and were located on the left side of their chest, rather than where their livers should be.

Medical miracles, Bones had declared after examining the newborns for himself, with more fondness than doctoral intrigue. For all his gruff exterior and snarky remarks, Bones was really just a big ol' softie at heart, especially when it came to kids. Jim was about to say this aloud to see if Spock would concur when he noticed the slight shadows under his first officer's eyes.

"You look worn out," observed Jim. He had been too excited to really look at the Vulcan until now, and frankly, he didn't approve of what he saw. Spock's pregnancy had not been an easy one, and his labor had been premature; so although the C-section had gone well, was there a possibility that there was something wrong now?

"My health is of no concern, rest assured," said Spock placatingly, intertwining his hand with Jim's for good measure, allowing his partner to sense the truth of his words. "I am suffering from nothing more serious than a bit of weariness. The children often leave me little time for leisure."

Jim frowned. "Do they sleep through the night at least?"

"Unfortunately, no," answered Spock, and if not for his Vulcan control, a sigh might have followed. "Not recently, at any rate. They appear to be going through a stubborn stage."

"Stubborn already, eh? Obviously a result of their human parentage," Jim quipped.

"Obviously," agreed Spock.

While Jim laughed at the dry reply, an idea struck. If Spock needed a night to recover his strength, he damn well deserved it. True, he had been on shore leave longer than Jim, but it was hardly a vacation if you were constantly caring for two infants. Mind made up, he said, "Well, you won't have to worry about that tonight. I'll take care of the kids, while you enjoy a decent night of rest."

Spock didn't instantly jump for joy. "Are you certain that is wise? You have just arrived home, and the twins can be quite a handful without previous experience—"

"—and logically, I am never going to learn unless I try, right?" countered Jim, smirking.

"That is correct," allowed Spock, as grudging as a Vulcan could be. He never liked logic being used against him. "But I would not be averse to waiting until you are rested enough to undertake this task. Your shore leave has scarcely begun, and your body requires it after managing the Enterprise. I am sure, if given the chance, I could find a suitable way to help you relax."

Jim shivered at the unexpected albeit tempting attempt at seduction. "I would be more than willing to take you up on that offer," he murmured, brushing his lips against Spock's all too inviting ones, "after I have the babies in bed."

Spock pulled away from the contact, shooting Jim a look that conveyed subtle annoyance. Considering that Jim was nineteen weeks, six days sex sober (in counting), he was this close to giving in and letting Spock have his way. But no, Jim decided, this was something he needed to do, as a father. Moreover, seeing the concealed exhaustion hinting at the face of his t'hy'la hardened his resolve.

"I suppose there is no chance in trying to convince you otherwise," said Spock in defeat. "I am starting to see where their stubbornness comes from."

"I will take that as a compliment," Jim replied cheekily. He leaned in to leave a peck on the Vulcan's lips, hoping to re-enter his good graces. "And I will see you later tonight, once the kids are asleep. Maybe then you could teach me a few of those relaxation techniques."

"Perhaps," said Spock, a coy gleam in his eyes. "However, I must warn you; the twins might keep you quite busy, Amanda especially. She resembles you more than you know."

"Oh ye of little faith," Jim clucked. "I captain a starship for a living, Spock. Surely I can handle a night of diaper duty."

Jim spent the rest of the evening getting reacquainted with his son and daughter, whom he hadn't seen face-to-face in over four months. They were, for lack of a better or manlier term, adorable and he relished every tummy tickle and peek-a-boo their time together brought.

"And that, my darling children, is how Daddy singlehandedly defeated the alien Balok using the Corbomite Maneuver," Jim finished, intent on impressing his rapt audience. They probably would have applauded, if they had the coordination for it.

"I believe you are neglecting to mention a substantial amount of information," Spock pointed out, absentmindedly smoothing back the unruly hair on Sol's head. "Furthermore, it is 7.32 minutes past their designated curfew."

"Bedtime already?" Jim pouted. He stood with a yawn, the day's events finally taking a toll. "Alright."

He plucked Amanda from his lap and headed upstairs, Spock and Sol following behind. In the nursery, he transferred the twins to the changing table, where their other father said goodnight. After doing so, Spock lingered.

"Go on, I've got it covered," Jim said confidently, flashing his patented I'm-the-Captain-and-I-Know-What-I'm-Doing grin to boot.

Persuaded at last, Spock nodded. "I shall be in our room, then," he said in parting, which was all the incentive Jim needed to do his job, do it well, and do it quickly.

So, he set about changing their diapers (a task he'd practiced through countless simulations in order to master) and putting on their pajamas, and the most the twins did was mewl and wave their tiny fists in the air. When that was done, he gathered the pair in his arms and walked around the room, gently bouncing them from time to time. They were out in fifteen minutes flat, and even as he laid them into their cradles, neither stirred.

This is appallingly simple, Jim realized. Why the hell was Spock so worried in the first place?

"Good night," he whispered, placing a tender kiss on each of their brows. "Sweet dreams."

Quietly, Jim crept out the door, leaving it slightly ajar. He wore a smug grin all the way to the bedroom, where he shed his shirt and pants before climbing into bed. Spock, who observed his self-satisfaction with a customary raise of his eyebrows, put the book he had been reading away when Jim sent him a suggestive look. Even the high and mighty Vulcan, although he would never admit it, could be quite helpless in the face of Jim's legendary charm.

Or he simply let Jim believe this was true, in order to preserve his pride. Either way, there wasn't much time to gloat over his success with the children when there was a proper reunion to be had, which required the use of their mouths and hands and other important body parts.

Things were just starting to get hot and heavy when the speaker on the baby monitor crackled to life, the unmistakable sound of a baby's whine filling the room.

Jim cursed the atrocious timing before reluctantly tearing himself away from bed. "Hold that thought," he sighed. "I'll be right back."

He sprinted to the twins' room and discovered his son only half-awake, tiny face scrunched in distress. Jim gathered Sol in his arms and held him against his chest. "Hey, buddy, what's wrong?" he asked in a soothing voice. Sol burrowed into Jim's shoulder, seeking nothing more than comfort apparently.

Knowing that Vulcan children were as sensitive to emotions as the adults of their species, Jim wrapped his large hand around his son's much smaller one, sending waves of love and contentment through their parental bond. Sol reacted well to the contact, eventually falling back to sleep entirely. Jim kept him in his arms a moment longer, just to be sure, then placed him back in bed.

When he reentered their bedroom, he was horny as ever. Spock was sitting up again, immersed in a book that Jim promptly tossed side, much to the Vulcan's thinly veiled amusement. "Lights off," he ordered, cloaking the room in darkness.

"Now," Jim began in a low, wolfish voice, "where were we?"

He had been dozing for about thirty minutes (after an intense, two hour lovemaking session and a shower afterwards) when the baby monitor crackled, the cries on the other end sounding more urgent than earlier. Jim swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stretched, suppressing a yawn building in the back of his throat.

Whether it was his movement or the baby monitor to blame, Spock had also awoken. "Jim, I can—"

"No, no, I can handle this," he insisted, cutting the offer short. "Go back to sleep."

Through the dimness, Jim watched Spock nod and then lay down again before standing. As an afterthought, he turned the volume on the baby monitor down to its lowest setting, to hopefully prevent Spock from being disturbed.

Both Sol and Amanda were howling in hunger, so Jim hastened to fill their bottles. Feeding two babies at once was admittedly difficult, yet he managed all the same. He burped them how the childcare book he had consulted (yes, okay, he had been desperate and all Bones would do was laugh when he asked stupid questions like can their poop be green? or do they still put rum on their gums? ) said to and then rocked them in their cradles.

They both appeared to be asleep, so Jim turned to leave. A deep sniffle froze him in place, and he turned to find Amanda staring at him with wide, watery eyes.

"But I thought..." Jim shook his head. "Never mind. What's up, little girl? Why aren't you asleep?" he questioned, lifting her into his arms, where her quiet hiccups evolved into lengthy sobs, even as he sent waves of calm through their bond.

"Hey, Amanda, it's okay, shh. Daddy's got you," he hushed, patting her back now as her bawling was muffled into his bare chest. "What could be wrong? You ate, you were changed..."

Suddenly, Amanda burped, louder and longer than she had the first time. With the excess air expelled, her whimpers ceased. "Oh," snorted Jim, dumbfounded. "Really? All that fuss over a little gas?"

His daughter gurgled in apparent agreement, and he laughed, relieved that it hadn't been anything serious. Amanda continued to mewl and coo, as if mimicking some form of speech. Jim listened to her endearing baby babble with an unbidden smile, until he saw her gaze locked on still slumbering Sol, who was beginning to stir at the noise...

"Oh, no. Amanda Winona Kirk, don't you dare wake your brother," Jim warned, too tired to see the senselessness in talking to a her as though she could understand. "Young lady—"

Bright blue eyes fluttered open, gradually becoming more alert. Soon, Sol began to keen for attention. Jim groaned miserably, glaring at his daughter. "Satisfied?"

She blinked those innocent eyes at him before smiling so gorgeously that it immediately absolved her of any and all blame. And in that moment, Jim felt his stomach sink with despair.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "I am in way over my head."

Indeed, Jim learned that his children's obstinacy was not to be taken lightly. Sol and Amanda were opponents worthy of a Corbomite Maneuver defense — or perhaps that was his delirious, sleep-deprived brain talking.

He had gone for longer periods of time without sleep on the Enterprise, of course, but there had always been some task to occupy his mind, to prevent him from succumbing to exhaustion. In the nursery, there was only the tedious mantra of feeding, changing, and rocking in an effort to lull the twins into repose.

Sure, there were respites from the monotony. Like when Amanda spit up on him after the second bottle; purely out of spite, no doubt. Or when Sol produced a diaper so putrid that he could barely get it to the disposal fast enough. Or the time Jim, in his desperation, had tried singing a lullaby and mucked up most of the words. Hard to believe his little angels could be the cause of such a disaster.

Angels, an inner voice peculiarly akin to Bones' southern drawl scoffed. More like devils in disguise.

Pointy ears or no, Jim refused to be beaten. He would stay in the nursery all night if need be. Parenting might not be all tummy tickles and adoring smiles, as he was starting to understand, yet those little wonders were what made every moment of bawling and bottle-making and dirty diapers worth it. So tonight was a success, as far as Jim was concerned, in that he was at least learning. With that notion of victory, he collapsed into a recliner, a baby balanced in each arm.

"Okay, let's sit down for a minute," he mumbled around a yawn, which contagiously spread to Sol and then Amanda. "Just so I can rest my eyes...This isn't a surrender, though...s'a momentary truce..."

Spock woke early the next morning, as per usual, to find Jim missing from their bed. Curious and slightly concerned, he threw off the comforter and went in search of his captain. He was quite relieved to locate him shortly thereafter the search began, although surprised at the position Jim was currently in.

Only his Vulcan control prevented him from smiling upon seeing his th'yl'a sprawled on a chair in the nursery, evidently exhausted, with their two children curled in the crooks of his arms. All three of them were fast asleep, and Spock was content to let them remain that way. In the meantime, he would go downstairs to brew a pot of coffee for Jim and prepare bottles for Amanda and Sol.

And then perhaps find a camera to immortalize this scene and send a copy of the photo to the Enterprise crew, who would undoubtedly delight in having permanent proof of such a precious moment, mused Spock — without the hint of a smile, of course.

Poor Jim. All children tend to exhibit devilish qualities, it's perfectly natural...in my family, at least.

I enjoyed writing this a lot, and I think it could evolve into a fun project, or it could simply be a nice one shot. Depends on how well liked this story is and how much time I have with my new school schedule. Either way, thank you for reading, and don't forget to click the little button down below!