Title: Oversights and Undershirts
Series: Insontis
Rating: G
Characters: (this bit) Kirk, bb!Spock
Word Count: (this bit) 1957
Warnings: Crack. Quite ghastly amounts of fluff. Written by me. Utter lack of plot. It's not meant to be real fic, it's not even meant to necessarily be IC, since one of the protagonists literally is not in character.
Summary: Starfleet Command and the Federation have become interested in the Insonti technology which transformed their most prominent starship captain into an infant some weeks previous. The Enterprise has been handed the assignment of performing further research into the device, while developing a deeper rapport with this as-yet non-Federation planet, in the hopes of producing an allegiance between the Insonti people and the Federation.

This Bit Summary: In which Jim finds he has a Vulcan stowaway in his bed; or, the one where he has to chase a footie-pajamaed Spock down the corridor of Deck Five in the middle of a shift change. Fluff without plot. You've been warned. Happy early Birthday, sierra_scarlet!

Chronological Order of This 'Verse:

When I Was a Child
Impeccable Aim
Lesson One
A Matter of Genetics
Taking Sides
Fangirls
Out of the Mouth of Babes
A Two-Way Trust
Lesson Two
Unleashed
Family Interlude
Artistic License
Blackmail Potential
Captain Sunshine
Sunshine and Darkness
Ducks in Space
Smart is Sexy
Lesson Four
Never Too Young
The Sincerest Form of Flattery
Lesson Five
Persuasive Arguments
A Decided Lack of Amusement (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)
Catch a Falling Star
An Infernal Device
Lesson Six (and Seven, really) (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)
The Second Time Around
Lessons Eight and Nine
Lessons Ten and Eleven (1/2) (2/2)
Outside the Box
Comprehension (1/4) (2/4) (Interlude) (3/4) (4/4)
And So It Begins
Fear Is Only Embarrassing in Public
Never Tease a Vulcan
Best Destiny (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)
Parting Ways (1/6) (2/6) (3/6) (4/6) (5/6) (6/6)
The Wounds of a Friend (1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)
Lessons Learned

-

A Child of Two Worlds
First Impressions
Instincts
Lesson One, of sorts
Communication
Lesson Two
Lesson Three
Trust (Lesson Four) (1/2) (2/2)
Oversights and Undershirts
Learning Diplomacy
Lesson Five


Ordinarily, the sense of wrongness would mean that he sleeps even more lightly than usual; as a starship captain, one gets used to being awakened at all hours and it is a self-preservational instinct more than anything else. He is a very light sleeper, one reason why he despises being forced to remain in Sickbay when injured; the slightest noise is enough to wake him up, and in a ward full of monitors and machines, that gets very old very quickly. And so, spending the night anywhere but his own cabin, usually is sufficient to make him sleep even lighter than is typical.

However, he has always been oddly at peace in Spock's cabin, despite its normally being set to a higher gravity and temperature than a human is accustomed to. This most likely has more to do with the fact that Spock in general seems to be a calming influence upon him; and despite his inability to master the basic concepts of Vulcan meditation, the time spent futilely trying to learn them was in fact the key to unlocking his own methods of mental relaxation.

Spock had said after those futile attempts that his mind was too bright, too chaotic, to fully grasp the concepts successfully, and that it was not an insult, merely an indication of his skill as an innovative starship commander. (Jim privately thinks Spock made that load of crap up just to make him feel better, but he'll never let on to his gentle First Officer).

That being said, he finds himself sleeping just as peacefully in Spock's cabin as he would in his own, despite the slight awkwardness of doing so without really getting his First's permission. However, their personal boundaries have eroded so far in the past few months due to the Insontis saga, that the idea of sleeping there does not phase him in the least (the fact that he is exhausted after a very long day no doubt has something to do with it). He is asleep in moments, after one final check to see that their little Vulcan has at last fallen into the peaceful sleep of a contented child.

Sometime during the night, a sound awakens him, but not fully; he half-listens for a moment, praying it was just the ship making noise and not something which will summon him from Spock's admittedly superior sheets – and after a few moments he hears nothing more, and slips back into dreamland.

He awakens abruptly before any alarm or summons in the morning, because he had been unaware that Spock evidently has his cabin set to mimic natural Vulcan lighting, and that evidently the Vulcan sun rises at a perfectly ungodly hour of ship's morning. He blinks ruefully up at the reddish glow filtering down from the sensors on the ceiling, and throws one arm over his face with a theatrical groan while stretching the other lazily out to his side.

And he instantly freezes when a small muffled yelp sounds from beside him, when his hand smacks something warm and wiggling with enough force to make him scramble up in the bed, terrified he's just unwittingly killed some pet or something Spock had in his cabin, unbeknownst to his captain.

Two dark eyes stare warily at him from under a truly impressive pile of blankets, the depth of which explains why his left side is considerably warmer than his right, and why he did not immediately notice that there is a Vulcan toddler apparently cuddling up to him in the middle of the night.

"Spock, you scared me to death," he breathes, slumping back to the pillows. He pinches the bridge of his nose wearily, wondering how to go about this particular situation (he is grateful he slept in full sleep-clothes last night, as that would just be a whole new level of awkwardness).

"That is illogical, as you are neither dead nor capable of being frightened to that state by a being one-third your size," Spock declares solemnly, the words drifting up out of the blanket-burrito, from which he can only barely see a dark mop of silky bedhead.

"It is too early for this without the help of coffee," he groans, rubbing both hands over his face and then propping himself up on one elbow with a sigh. "Spock. I would like to talk to you, not that blanket," he says, eyebrow raised, and a moment later Spock's head wriggles into view, little nose crinkled up as he huffs hair out of his eyes. "What, exactly, are you doing in here?"

"This is my cabin," Spock says reasonably.

"Well, yes, but…if you wanted to sleep in here, I would have moved back to mine, not made you uncomfortable having to share like this."

Spock's ears turn slightly green. "It was not uncomfortable." Kirk tilts his head questioningly, warily, and sees his tiny companion fiddle uneasily with the edge of a fleece blanket. "I…was unable to change the climate controls when I awoke last night," is the unexpected confession, and he immediately is horrified by what he has unwittingly done.

"Oh, Spock – I'm so sorry! I totally forgot to change the climate controls to a Vulcan tolerance," he breathes, rubbing a hand over his face. "You had to have been freezing!"

"Not precisely so, though the temperature was rather uncomfortable for a time," Spock replies matter-of-factly. "Apparently the computer does not recognize my voice commands."

"No, of course not…it didn't recognize mine until after I hit puberty," Kirk muses, still aghast at how he had overlooked something so important last night. "Spock, I really am sorry for forgetting that…you should have woken me!"

Dark eyes blink up at him, puzzled. "Why should I have done such a thing? You needed your rest, Captain-Jim, and I was able to find a satisfactory compromise by locating the extra coverings in a storage compartment and then utilizing your residual body heat for my own comfort."

"Right, I'm not even going to touch that sentence," he mutters, trying not to laugh at the innocent reply. "Spock, if you're ever even uncomfortable, or in pain or something, I want you to feel free to wake me up, or wake up Bones if you're in Sickbay. Did you have any more bad dreams last night?"

Spock squirms within the blanket-folds. "Not after becoming warm enough," he hedges, with all the evasiveness of an adult Vulcan.

"Spock…"

The dark head promptly disappears down into the blanket-cave again, and he cannot help but laugh at the childish gesture; to see his stern and collected First behaving so is a memory he will cherish fondly for the rest of his life.

"You really think you can hide from me, do you?" he challenges, grinning, and begins to dramatically pat down the bed, drawing closer to the obvious lump of hiding baby Vulcan. He sees the outline of a tiny foot and suddenly snatches it. "Gotcha!"

This elicits a colossal shriek of surprise, the effect of which is only partially muffled by the blankets, which he then sweeps away in one grand gesture. Spock freezes in a hilariously sprawled position, staring wide-eyed up at him as if hoping if he does not move he will not be seen.

Laughing too hard to keep himself fully upright, Kirk drops the blankets on the floor and scrubs the sleeve of his sleep-shirt across his eyes. He is therefore entirely taken by surprise when Spock's eyes suddenly gleam with an entirely human mischief, and before he can even make a sound the child has squirreled off the bed and out the door and –

Is running down the corridor of Deck Five.

At the peak of delta shift change.

In rubber-duck-printed footie pajamas.

Holy mother of Surak, adult-Spock is going to murder him if someone gets a picture of that.

"Spock! You get back here now, Mister!"

Six doors down, a sleepy Lieutenant Sulu pokes his head out of his cabin, coming wide awake and staring curiously as a tiny blue-and-yellow blur darts past him and on down the corridor.

"Not a word, or I'll have you transferred to Waste Recycling," Kirk mutters through clenched teeth, as he jogs down the corridor in his slippers and grey Starfleet-issue pajamas.

"Didn't see anything, sir!" A perfectly snapped salute, and the door closes, but not before he can hear the young pilot cackling his head off inside the cabin.

Spock is tiny, and ridiculously fast – and so it's not until the child comes up short at the dead-end of a turbolift that he pauses, temporarily stymied, and glances hastily around for another form of exit (Kirk is just thankful that Spock hasn't realized yet that the doorway across the hall is an unlocked storage closet).

But it is, of course, only Kirk's luck that he reaches the little brat just as the lift arrives. He scoops the wriggling, protesting child up in his arms just in time for the door to open.

"Aye, I heard about that."

"And so I said, how do you expect me to repair a circuit board with only one good –"

"Captain Kirk, sir!"

The half-dozen weary delta shift crewmen immediately snap to attention, wide-eyed and obviously trying not to notice the captain's lack of uniform or the rather intimidating scowl their de-aged First Officer is giving the world in general.

Kirk draws himself up to a mirroring stance of attention, pajamas and all, and gives them a curt nod of approval. "As you were, gentlemen," he says with perfect equanimity, entirely ignoring the pouting Vulcan child currently tucked under one arm like an oversized football.

"Uh."

"Aye, sir!"

The lift empties around them in a matter of five awkward seconds, and in less time than that the corridor is again empty.

"If this ends up all over the galactic holo-nets I am going to have very little sympathy, kiddo," Kirk mutters, as he hauls his protesting burden back down the corridor to their cabins.

Spock gives one last limb-flailing squirm and then goes limp with a huff, staring blankly at the floor passing dizzyingly underneath him. "I do not understand your constant desire to…pick me up," the child declares grumpily after a moment of silence.

This time, he does roll his eyes, adorable little Vulcan or no. "It is the most expedient action to ensure you do not run away again, thereby embarrassing yourself by acting in a human manner before several human crewmen, Spock-kam."

The child mutters something that he cannot hear, and he grins. "Besides," he continues as they reach their cabins. One dramatic swing and a yelp of surprise, and Spock is now upright in his arms, head bobbing as he tries to orient himself. "It is a natural human instinct to cuddle cute things."

A tiny lip curls in disgust. "I am not cute!"

He schools his features into seriousness, nodding solemnly. The door to his cabin opens upon his voice command, and as they enter he is already raising the climate controls to a Vulcan comfort level. "Of course you aren't. I apologize for my…incorrect observation."

Spock squints at him, as if trying to determine the sincerity of his apology, and apparently Jim is as good an actor as he thinks, for the child finally gives him a regal nod. "You are not a scientist, Captain-Jim; such error is understandable."

He manages to turn his laughter into a snort, pursing his lips to keep a straight face. "You are very kind."

"Indeed." And yes, evidently smugness is either not an emotion, or one that is permissible in Vulcan children.

"So perhaps my observation about you wanting strawberry French toast for breakfast is also in error, if my judgment is so unreliable…"

"Captainnnnn!"