Star Trek does not belong to me.
As most of my fics, this was also written as a response to a prompt on the Kink meme on livejournal.
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The young half-Vulcan sat behind the computer console, his legs dangling above the floor, and stared into the bright screen. The rest of his room was dark; it was the middle of the night. He knew the logical thing for an individual in such an early stage of growth as he was would be to sleep and allow his organism to rest and gather energy.
Yet sleep was the last thing on his mind. He frowned as the memory of the most peculiar actions of his parents he had witnessed thirty-two minutes ago became vividly visual once more – and then he quickly evened out his facial expression, reminding himself of the necessity of concealing such blatant manifestations of his mood.
It was his responsibility to accommodate as best as he could to the Vulcan culture of which he was, despite his mixed origins, a member. Both his parents and teachers kept informing him time and again of the fact that this would be more difficult for him, given his human side, and, although he was otherwise rather advanced in education compared to his peers, Spock agreed with them.
Especially at this moment, it was increasingly demanding to suppress the confusion, curiosity and strange sense of guilt he was experiencing due to what he had just seen.
Then an idea occurred to him. His Father had told him what to do in such situations when something disturbing or unexpected made Spock lose his concentration and threaten to rid him of control over his emotions: Calm his mind, sort out his thoughts and analyze each of them in a logical manner, thus gaining a clear, rational perspective. He had also added that since Spock was only five years old and had not yet achieved full mastery of his mind, it was perfectly appropriate for him to write down all his impressions, study them carefully and attempt to find their logical explanation in this manner.
Spock extended his tiny hands to the keyboard and began his meticulous analysis:
I-Chaya did not sleep well tonight. He whined. At first I thought he was ill.
I-Chaya is a sehlat. Sehlats do not contact diseases -
The automatic writing-check bubble popped up on the screen: 'Contact diseases' is an uncommon phrase. Did you mean 'contract diseases?'
Spock considered this for a moment, pursing his lips – but then he quickly caught himself, resumed a neutral expression and tapped Yes.
- contract diseases very often. Therefore I assumed it was something else.
My assumption was proven correct. I found that his waterer was empty.
Sehlats do not require hydratation -
Did you mean hydration?
Yes.
- hydration very frequently. But the waterer might have been broken for several days. This would mean I have neglected my duties as his owner. It is not a pleasing thought.
In summation: I went to bring I-Chaya a bowl of water. He accepted it. He drank some of it. He did not resume whining. This means that I have solved this problem in a logical manner.
But: I have neglected my duties as his owner. It is not a pleasing thought.
The previous two sentences have already appeared in the text. Do you wish to delete them?
No, Spock tapped the touch-screen rather impatiently. He was anxious to get to the part he found even more upsetting then neglecting his beloved pet.
This happened while I was bringing water to I-Chaya:
I passed close by my parent's room. I had not wished to disturb them. For this reason I had disabled the automatic lights before I left my room.
When I passed by my parent's room:
My attention was caught. There were strange noises coming from there.
It was confusing. I recognized my Mother's voice. But she was not saying anything. The sound was closer to I-Chaya's whining.
At first I thought she was ill. This would not be unusual for her. Unlike it is for I-Chaya. Mother is ill quite frequently. It is caused by her organism not being suited for the Vulcan climate. That was not a pleasing thought.
Therefore I decided to inspect the matter. I quickly brought the water bowl with water to I-Chaya. He accepted it and drank it. Then I returned to my parent's room.
The noises had not seased-
Did you mean 'ceased'?
Yes.
Would you like to practice the spelling of more words?
No.
-ceased. I came close to the door. There is a door at the entrance to my parent's room. It is unusual. There is not a door to any other of the rooms. I wonder why that is.
Sometimes the door is closed. Sometimes it is open. There is probably a pattern to it. I think I know what the pattern is. The events of tonight enabled me to discover it.
This is the reason:
I came close to the door. It had seemed closed. But it was not closed. But it is not true to write it was open. It was not open. It was open only very little. It was almost closed. But open enough to let the noise out.
I have a thought. My thought pertains to the purpose of the door. I think the purpose is to keep the noise in the room. It is not supposed to reach me. My parents had wanted the door closed. They thought it was closed. Therefore they thought they could make the noise.
Because my Father made a noise too. But my Mother was louder. At first I heard only her. But then I heard my Father too. The logical conclusion was that my mother was not ill. Unless they were both ill. This was unlikely. My father is like I-Chaya. He is adjusted to the climate.
This was a pleasing thought: My Mother was not ill.
Another logical conclusion: The purpose of the door = keep the noise out.
Spock fidgeted in the chair and frowned a little again. He still had no logical explanation for what had happened after he had been overcome by curiosity as to the reason for the sounds his parents were producing and peeked inside the room.
I came close to the door. I put my head to it and looked inside. The room was dark. But my eyes were already adjusted to the darkness.
This is what I saw:
My parents were both in a horizontal position on the bed. There is nothing strange about that.
But this was strange:
They were not next to each other. They were on top of each other. I cannot understand the logic of such a position.
My mother was below my father. She was sighing and whining. It appeared that my Father was causing her pain!
Spock clenched his fists and bit his lower lip, battling a surge of purely negative emotion toward his Father the revisited memory awakened in him. He calmed himself as well as he could and then went back and erased the exclamation mark.
-pain. I found that very confusing and unusual. I almost made a grave mistake and acted on my emotions. But then my Mother said something. It was also very confusing and unusual. But it made me reconsider my assumption about my Father's intentions and my desire - which was to run in and save her from him.
But this is what she said:
More. Oh please. Oh God. More. More.
I cannot understand why she would ask for more pain. But she did. And she got it. So she started whining again.
They were also both naked.
Spock stopped writing again and made a failed attempt of suppressing a cringe at the thought. He was so used to seeing his parents fully dressed all the time. Especially his father. His Mother was of course always as much dressed as his Father was, if not more, given that she also regularly covered her head, but somehow Spock always thought his father was much more dressed than she. So it had been naturally extremely shocking when it was his Father whose nakedness had dominated the scene.
Disturbing though the sight had been, Spock was not completely clueless about the nature of his parent's activity. He had watched enough educational programs and animals were a keen interest of his.
I still cannot see the logic behind their behavior.
But this is what their activity reminded me of:
The mating of animals.
But there is a logical problem in this explanation. Once my Mother told me that I had been planned and wanted. My conception required medical assistance. I know that offspring between Humans and Vulcans cannot be born the natural way.
Spock rested his forehead in his little hand, thinking hard.
The only explanation I can give is this:
I know the purpose of their activity was not procreation. Would it be possible that adults sometimes engage in purposeless cupulation -
„Spock!"
He blinked into the suddenly lit room at his Mother standing in the entrance. He did not even remember to hide the bewilderment in his face. Regaining the presence of mind he turned back to the computer and closed the writing application. The next moment his Mother was bending down to him, lifting him from the chair.
"Don't tell me you were studying again. You know you don't have to, your results are far above average." She kissed him lightly on the cheek and carried him to the bed.
Spock decided the best course of action was not to share his confusion with his Mother as she had been one of the generators of it and he still did not manage to derive a logical explanation for it.
His Mother's touch, however, filled him with pleasure. At least he was on the receiving end of his mother's tenderness, which he knew was a physical demonstration of her love. He did not have to force her to touch him by locking her under him.
"Alright, darling. You have to sleep now." She pressed her lips to his forehead. This gave Spock some more satisfaction. At him she smiled lovingly and certainly did not whine.
He watched her get up from the side of his bed and turn to leave. She had just passed the computer when a belated message from the writing check popped up on the screen. As soon as his Mother was safely gone, he crawled out of his bed to look at it. It read Did you mean 'copulation'?
Despite her being the one who should be doing the explaining, Spock felt infinitely grateful that the rules of casuality and temporal alignment of events failed to create a coincidence involving his mother noticing it.
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