This story will have smatterings of slashy talk and thought, but you'll never actually see any slash. Thought you ought to know.

One:
Enough Already

"Doctor, I do not wish to belittle you, however—"

"Oh, no you don't. Don't you 'however' me, you giant elf."

Spock's eyebrow twitched at this comment, yet his attention was solely on the small hologram sitting on the end table beside the bed. In the bed lay a very irritated Lieutenant Phiora. Her eyes were on Dr. McCoy and her face told him she might start strangling him for the hell of it. Spock made a small sound like he was clearing his throat. "Then would you be so kind as to explain what it is we are looking at?"

Bones McCoy shifted slightly, his eyes also on the hologram. It was actually a holographic sonogram that appeared to be on a slowly rotating turntable. The doctor blinked once.

"You're lookin' at some lovely genes there, Spock."

"And Doctor, what seems to be different about this particular sonogram? What, precisely, differentiates this one from the one you showed us twenty-nine-point-six days ago?"

Bones scowled and turned to the half-Vulcan as Phiora watched, annoyed, from the sidelines. "Now just wait a goddamn minute—" He stopped when he saw Spock's face calling his bluff. He sighed. "There's another one of them little buggers."

Spock allowed both eyebrows to lift. "Which would indicate...?"

"You're having twins, Phiora, but I'm sure you figured that out already. I don't know why the other fetus didn't show up on the other sonograms...and I guess it should've been suspected what with your stomach being larger than it would be with just one fetus."

After another bite-sized spat between McCoy and Spock and a hypospray of pre-natal nutrients, Phiora was sent on her way, the First Officer at her heels. They headed towards a turbolift, and once inside, Spock turned to her.

"Are you certain you feel up to working?"

Phiora rolled her eyes. "Spock, I'm only a few months along. Besides, with Lieutenant Uhura on Earth for that family emergency, I've been assigned communications officer." She smiled brightly and smoothed her blue uniform dress over her recognizably rounder stomach.

Spock gave her an amused sideways glance, his hands behind his back. "As unfortunate as Nyota's family emergency is, I am certainly pleased that you acquired the position you have been vying for." He turned his head to her. "However temporary that may be."

"That was mean," Phiora pouted, involuntarily leaning into the hand that suddenly appeared at the small of her back. "For that I'm not giving you a backrub tonight."

The smirk on Spock's face was only common to her, and her heart warmed at that thought. "My dear Phiora, you seem to forget that I do not need sensual gratification every night."

"Oh yeah?" she countered. She slid her hands around to the small of his back, a little ways below this ribcage, and started to rub small circles with her fingertips. She grinned when his eyes fell shut and he leaned forward a little, emitting a very un-Spock-like sound from deep in his chest. "I have my doubts because you seem to like this one a lot."

"Lower," he whispered uncharacteristically, running his hands from her shoulders to her neck.

Instead of complying, Phiora removed her hands and watched Spock open his eyes and stare at her as if she just declared war on herself. She watched him keenly and held his face as he narrowed his eyes ever-so-slightly.

"You seem to have forgotten the hypnotic effects that particular area of my body has on me."

"Oh, no, I definitely have not," Phiora laughed as the turbolift doors opened to the bridge. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him briefly before exiting, leaving Spock to flush a lovely shade of green. They both went to their respective stations.

"Hey, now," Captain Kirk joked from his place between the science and communications stations. "I saw that little peck. If you're going to be obscene about your relationship I'm going to have to ask one of you to leave."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he took his seat. "I assure you, Captain, the lieutenant merely experienced a lapse of judgment and it will not happen again."

Phiora smiled. She knew that human kisses were embarrassing for Spock when given in public, but she also knew that he didn't hate them. She figured it was his human half. Full-blooded Vulcans might be mortified by such a public display of affection, but Spock only found it uncomfortable.

As Jim chuckled and walked to his chair, Phiora placed her headset in her ear and frowned. She pressed a few controls and turned in her seat to face Spock, still frowning. He caught this and looked at her questioningly.

"Mr. Spock," she said, adopting the professional mannerisms as they'd both agreed to while on duty. "Someone is trying to call you."

He grabbed a headset and placed it in his ear. "Who?"

After a few more seconds of switch-flipping and listening, Phiora's frown turned into a warm smile and she addressed the caller. "Just a moment, Qlintik, I'll transfer you to his line."

At the sound of the Beylorian's name, Spock straightened his spine curiously, placing a hand to this headset as Phiora switched the call over. "This is Spock." He paused, his eyes on the console in front of him. "I am also pleased to hear from you, Qlintik. Unfortunately I am unable to converse casually with you at this time for the fact that I am currently on duty." He lifted his head, still listening. Then he tilted it to one side, still unaware of Phiora's conspiratorial grin. "Certainly. I will appreciate the opportunity." His eyes shifted as if something personally impressive was said, and he lifted an eyebrow. "Peace and long life." He reached over and cut off the call.

"I still remember," Phiora said nonchalantly, turning back to her console, "when he first made a social call to you."

"It was indeed a rather strange call."

"You wouldn't quit asking him why he was calling you."

"It did not occur to me at the time that he wanted to be social."

"No, that doesn't happen often, does it?" Phiora teased, throwing him another smile before really getting back to work.

Spock fought the human urge to roll his eyes.

Later after shift ended, Jim and Bones sat in Jim's quarters, enjoying some Saurian brandy and a bottle of Onofrian valley wine Phiora had given the doctor to thank him for his help and friendship since she learned she was pregnant. Jim was the one drinking the brandy since he was banned from the wine under Phiora's terms.

"Please, please," she'd light-heartedly begged McCoy, "make sure Jim has none of this. Not only is he allergic, but he will go bat-shit crazy if he drinks it. One sip and he starts addressing inanimate objects as 'President Lincoln' and then his face literally puffs up like a balloon." She then grinned. "But drink it in front of him. He'll hate it because he loves this stuff regardless."

Certainly the doctor need not have been told twice.

"I like her," Bones told his younger friend as they both sat on either side of the captain's desk, their respective glasses in hand.

Jim frowned, visibly suppressing a hiccup/burp. "Who?"

"Phiora. She's a nice kid. Dunno what she sees in Spock or why she'd want to even consider carrying that man's children for any length of time, however." He swilled his glass and stared at it like it was broadcasting a medical lecture. "Her psychological tests had turned out with no sign of anything that would...um...you know...indicate why she'd choose...him."

Jim downed his brandy and poured himself another glass. "Oh, come on."

Bones shook his head. "He's been acting less and less like a Vulcan each...week, I guess. It's not that noticeably. I mean noticeable."

It was evident at that point that both men were at that often-visited but not entirely unwelcome comfortably buzzed area. Kirk wanted to change the subject since he knew why his older friend was talking about what he was talking about.

"Gimme some of that wine?" he asked. He wondered what the hell was wrong with Bones when he absently started reaching the bottle out to him, but then the hand snapped back and two incredulous and hilariously angry eyes narrowed at him.

"Are you suicidal?" Bones asked harshly. "Jesus, man, I almost gave it to you, too." As the captain amusedly gulped down his entire glass of brandy and poured another one, the doctor cleared his throat automatically, examining the bottle. "Part of me wishes Spock were allergic to this stuff too. I know...I know he likes it because Phiora told me he'll drink it sometimes at...dinner." He let out a deep, hollow hiccup, but it was a loner.

Jim squinted at the man sitting across the desk and rubbed his face. "Bones...shut up about Spock already, 'kay? I know you have a...a crush on him, but come on. Let...let it go. It's depressing."

The CMO set the bottle back down with so much force he almost shattered it. "I don't have a fucking crush on that...that...green-eared, pointy-blooded...bastard-goblin! I'd rather pump myself full of...dangerous chemicals than...."

"...admit it?" Jim asked, grinning toothily, resting his chin on his hand and leaning forward in his seat.

"No," Bones said quietly and with finality, draining the last of the wine in his glass. The younger man sighed, understanding through the haze that it was pointless.

And just a tad hypocritical.

He would have mentally embellished on that thought had he not seen the shudder McCoy emitted suddenly. The captain's time with Phiora and Spock—mostly Spock—had taught him how to read and interpret people to some extent. It wasn't something he could do correctly yet, but he knew enough to know that shudder wasn't for the reason he initially thought it was for.

Briefly proud and surprised that he was able to read his mostly misleading friend, especially through his steadily increasing inebriation, Jim frowned.

"You look spooked."

Bones leaned forward, forgetting about the drinks for the moment. "I was just thinkin' about that creepy race we ran into a few months back. Y'know...the AK47."

Jim recalled the voice of the enigmatic race's...commander, he supposed, and suddenly didn't blame Bones for shuddering. The doctor hadn't heard the voice, but a few of Jim's nightmares since then contained that reverberating voice in appearances that ranged from one word to being the entire subject of the nightmare. He'd never heard a voice that low in his life. It was so low it made Admiral Der'on's booming voice sound like a child's.

"Why?" Jim asked softly, wondering if he was going to be tricked into listening to another Spock-centric rant.

"Gee, I'm not sure, maybe it's a little strange to me that it's been three months and they haven't dropped by to say 'hello, we want your souls now'." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I think that's what they're gonna do, Jim. They're gonna come back."

Jim took a moment to wade through McCoy's Southern accent, which was thicker now that he was almost drunk. "You're being...paranoid...again," he said at length. "You were like this with...with Der'on and his cool...weapon. But you turned out to be wrong, didn't you?"

"But Jim—!"

"Didn't you?"

There was a pause. Bones pursed his lips. "Dammit, yes."

With a tip of the head and a raise of the glass, Jim downed his drink, only to realize two minutes later that it had been empty.