kikamontanez

Prompt Fill: Slow Dance

Prompt: Perry comes home to find Harry blasting his music and dancing around (not necessarily naked, but that would be fun too) in the living room. He finds himself captivated by how utterly lost in the music the younger man is, and finally figures out what that funny warm feeling that he gets around Harry all the time really is (he's in loooove, honey!).

(the music can be anything you want, but I keep hearing Fireflies by Owl City when I picture this ^_^)


It had been a fucking long day for Perry Van Shrike. His latest case, nothing fun or exciting. A woman convinced her sister's boyfriend was cheating on her (shouldn't this be the sister's problem?) but Perry wasn't "working fast enough" so the client was on his back about getting some evidence. The boyfriend, a quiet, nerdy kind of guy addicted to online gaming, didn't leave his house enough to allow Perry to make such a discovery. If he was cheating on his girlfriend, it was with a wizard or something. Possibly three states over and a man his age.

It was nice to return home. Home, of course, meant Harry would be there. In the days before Harry, home was quiet and peaceful. Perry could use the television as background noise, pour himself a scotch, and cook dinner in solitude. That was before Harry. Home now meant he would walk through the door with the TV blaring (whether Harry was watching anything or not), a mess in the livingroom or kitchen, and Harry eager to follow him around, talking his ear off.

Perry knew he didn't mind, but he liked to pretend he did. Solitude was nice, but his evenings didn't seem to drag on anymore. Before Harry, every minute seemed like five minutes. He had been bored.

"Harry?" He called, unlocking the door. "I'm home."

Music played from the stereo, John Legend. Perry smiled slightly. One thing he and Harry could agree on-music. Perry had always pegged his new work partner for bad artists-main stream or something only found on trashy rock stations. He was surprised that Harry had looked through his CD collection and recognized more than half of the artists, and discussed which songs he did and didn't like from each album.

"Harry?" Perry removed his shoes and traveled into the livingroom, where Harry was vaccuming-or had been vaccuming. He was swaying in an odd fashion, his back turned to Perry's.

Perry opened his mouth, but closed it, and took a few steps back, partially hidden by the wall that separated the front room and living area. Harry was dancing! He turned in a circle, and Perry noticed he was mouthing the words. His dancing was slow and casual and actually good. It wasn't forced or stiff.

" 'Let's not talk about the war'," Harry mouthed, his movements fluid and a little sexy. " 'Don't know what they're fighting for'."
Wait. Sexy? Perry inwardly groaned, silently cursing his mental diction. Harry started to roll up the vaccum cleaner cord, moving in a side-to-side fashion as he lowered himself onto the balls of his feet so he could finish the job. He slid back up, and pushed the vaccum out of the way against the wall.

" 'I propose' " He held his hand out to imaginary dance partner, his face sweet and earnest. " 'That we go to the floor and we slow dance' ".

He continued to dance around the room, tidying up, lip-syncing to the song. There was a pause in the song, and he put his hand to his heart, biting his bottom lip, tapping his foot and beginning to nod as he mouthed, " 'I love it. I love it. I love it, we're slow dancing together'."  He thrust his hips with his own sedated sexiness and Perry had to cover his own grin with his hand.
The music started to fade out, but Harry was still dancing and nodding his head, but this time he was making sound. To the tune of the song, he sang softly, "Perry, I cleaned your house, you should fucking slow dance with me."

Perry's brows furrowed. What the fuck? He was watching with less amusement, and more confusion, as Harry used the stereo remote to put the song on repeat. He danced again, but this time actually pantomimed dancing with somebody. It was ridiculous, and adorable. Perry couldn't help himself, and he was going to regret it as soon as the song was over. As if on cue, the lyric sounded, I propose that we go to the floor and we slow dance.

Harry, his back still turned to Perry, did a little twirl, and Perry stepped into the room. Harry spun right into him with a surprised 'oomph!'

Perry cocked a brow at him, and Harry smiled sheepishly, maybe a little nervously, and shrugged one shoulder. He backed up from Perry, losing all modesty, and mouthed the lyrics dramatically, holding out his hand to Perry. Perry sighed and massaged his eyes with his fingertips, but managed a half-smile as Harry tugged on his hand, pulling him closer. They danced, and when the song went over, Perry sat on the couch.and stared at Harry, who was still standing.

"I never get tired of that song," Harry said. Softly, but dramatically, he sang, " 'Tonight I wanna dance. Can you do that with your man?' "

Perry just kept smiling, trying his best to wipe it away. Harry tapped the remote control against the side of his head and said, "Let me find something for you."

"Hm?" Perry raised his eyebrows, slightly amused.

Harry clicked and clicked, and finally stopped, smiling knowingly at Perry. Music started, and Perry groaned loudly and said, "HARRY!"

Harry was already starting to move his oddly girlish figure and mouthed, " 'At first I was afraid, I was petrified. Kept thinking I could never live without you-"

"No." Perry tried to swat Harry's hand away as he tried to pull him off the couch.

Harry ignored him, still moving, and settled for straddling on his lap, still moving, and Perry felt redness creep onto his face and shifted awkwardly, hoping that Harry would realize what he was doing. Or hoping he wouldn't realize. Luckily, the smaller man jumped back up and danced by himself. When it was over, he was sweating, and had a big, dopey grin on his face.

"And I thought I was supposed to be the gay one," Perry muttered.

"Huh?" Harry genuinely looked confused.

"You dance well," Perry let the joke about only gay guys could dance well go. "Anyway, um...house looks great."

"Thanks." Harry smiled. "I'm gonna grab a drink. You want one?"

"Please." Perry sniffed.

When Harry went into the kitchen, Perry sighed, somewhat contently. Solitude was definitely a thing of the past, and he wasn't all that ashamed to let the idea he wanted to slow dance with Harry crept further and further into his mind. It wasn't a bad thought, though not all that comforting either. He shook his head and simply replayed Harry's dancing in his mind, and that seemed to make the whole bad part of his day go away.

Link to John Legend's 'Slow Dance': http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NyPY663COU

Hourglass

 

Claire cried herself to sleep. She was dirty, sticky, sweaty. Curled into a ball on the cold cement, she wept only slightly as she drifted in an out of a fitful sleep. The only real noises emitting from her were little gasps and squeaks that she wasn't even aware she was making anymore.

Something warm and wet, but solid, suddenly touched her, and she startled, opening her eyes. Somebody had her. Somebody grunted softly-speaking, but she was too hazy to make out what they were saying. It was a man, and he was speaking in a gruff, hushed tone. She was able to make out  bits and pieces...only words. She was able to pick up her own name. She was able to pick up "quiet". She was able to pick up "here".

"I'm-I'm..." Her breath caught in her throat fast. She was close to hyperventilating. "I'm...I-I'm hurt...hurt...I'm hurt..." she broke down in tears again.

Something else touched her. Lips. They brushed over her forehead, and a large thumb brushed just under her eyes, wiping away tears. Claire's vision came into focus-her mind started to catch up to reality, and her brows furrowed slightly. "Sylar?"

----------

She woke on a bed. The room was dark, nearly pitch black, and it was cold.  An AC window unit hummed loudly next to her, blasting her with freezing air. She sat up, blinking heavily, and blindly felt the spot next to her. It was empty. She shivered slightly when her bare feet met the floor, and even after that it took her several moments to realize that her entire legs were naked. She was wearing a large shirt and very loose cotton shorts. Both were well over-sized, and she actually had to jerk the shorts up as she walked just to keep them in place. She eventually found the bedroom door and let herself out. It was still dark, but there was a bathroom right across from her. Light leaked from underneath the closed door.

She opened it and shielded her eyes, which were still adjusting to even the faintest of light. The bathroom was small, slightly cluttered, and smelled like the bathroom her father and brother shared-musky soap, aftershave, stale laundry. Sure enough, the shower curtain was open, and Claire saw a pile of clothes sitting on the wet tile. She leaned closer, picking up a Tshirt with two fingers, and dropped it when she realized they were soaked with warm blood. She locked the door, used the bathroom, washed her hands with the nearly empty handsoap, and wandered down the small hallway into the living room.

"You're awake." The person sitting on the sofa did not turn around.

"Sylar..." she swallowed hard. "What are you doing here?"

Sylar turned his head. He smiled a little and shrugged one shoulder. "I live here."

Claire looked around again. "What am I doing here?"

Instead of answering, Sylar patted the spot on the sofa next to him, but Claire shook her head, taking a few steps to the side. She wrapped her arms around her small frame, and Sylar couldn't help but feeling a tad guilty over getting slightly excited by her current state. There was something about her being snuggled into his clothes that just made him want to look at her longer.

"I found you," he said. "Behind your dormitory. You..." he sighed quietly, looking away. When he looked back at her, he asked, "What do you remember?"

Claire's face crumpled, but she didn't cry. Instead, she folded her lips in and shook her head. "I don't remember anything."

A total lie. She clearly remembered everything now. A small get together at the neighboring dorms. A few drinks, some video games. What did she have to lose? She couldn't get drunk. She couldn't die. A boy, cute, somewhat shy, funny...he'd asked her to walk around, get some air, so he could smoke a cigarette. She couldn't die, but she had realized she could still get hurt. He'd been incredibly strong for just a young adult, and Claire had fought off much worse. He'd covered her mouth, slapped her around, and finally had his way with her. The entire time she'd fought and struggled and tried to scream. She was a virgin. She had been a virgin. When he'd finished, he'd stood up, moved to the grass, smoked one more cigarette, and all Claire could do was huddle against the wall and cry. Once again, she'd built up a tiny bit of courage, a tiny bit of trust, and it'd all blown up in her face.

Sylar stood up, and he seemed to tower over her even more in his crowded apartment than he did on the street or anywhere else. Claire furiously wiped at her stinging eyes and asked in a small voice, "Where are my clothes?"

"The dryer," Sylar said. "I washed them."

Claire remembered the clothes in his shower. "Did you?" She had to know. "Did you kill him?"

Sylar nodded. Claire hung her head and tried to get herself under control. She hated for him to see her cry. She could handle her family seeing it. She could handle Gretchen seeing it, but for some reason, it embarrassed her for Sylar to see it.

"How did you know?" She asked, looking back up. Sylar couldn't help but think she was beautiful in tears. Her face was red, her eyes glittery and intense.

"Let me get you something to drink." He wasn't about to tell her he frequently stalked her at school. He fixed her a glass of ice water and held out his hand. Claire took it and took a sip. She sat down on the sofa to finish the rest.

"I always tell myself I can trust people, that I can have fun and be normal," she said, her voice shaking. "And it always ends badly."

"I just wish I could have been there sooner," Sylar said, sitting on the arm of the sofa, dangerously close to her.

"Does my dad know?" She asked, drawing her knees up, wrapping her arms around them.

Sylar shook his head. Claire nodded and started to move to take the glass back to the kitchen, but he took it from her. She turned to the direction of the bathroom. "Can I take a shower here?"

He looked a bit taken back. "Of course."

"There's..." she fumbled. "Your clothes...they're in the...I wasn't sure."

----------

She felt weird showering in his bathroom. This was the man who'd tried to kill her, cut open her head and felt around in her brain, kidnapped her in class, kissed her, saved her...he was a mystery on every level, and she wondered how she was even suppose to feel about him. She frowned slightly, inspecting his bland, typical male shampoo and body wash, and as she tried off, she could smell the familiar scent of him lingering on her skin and in her hair. Her clothes were folded on the counter, along with another clean Tshirt and pair of boxer shorts. She threw her own clothes in the bathroom trashcan-never wanting to see them again, and opted for the borrowed attire.

He was still on the sofa watching television-the volume so low it might as well have been mute, and she timidly moved beside the sofa, finger-combing her wet hair. He looked at her. "All clean?"

"Yah." She nodded. She stared at the sofa. "Can I-"

He scooted over and she sat, strangely enjoying the warmth his body left in the space. They both stared at the TV screen, pretending to watch whatever was on, and eventually Sylar stood up and moved to the kitchen. He stayed there for a while, opening and shutting cabinets. Claire felt something cold press against her cheek and she jumped a bit. It was a bowl, filled to the brim with ice cream.

"Thanks." She said, feeling confused and awkward. It wasn't everyday your immortal enemy handed you a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

"Are you upset that I killed him?" Sylar asked suddenly after he sat back down, like it had been an itch he'd tried not to scratch.

Claire moved her spoon around, grateful to have something to occupy her nervous hands with. "Yes," she finally said. "But not for that reason."

Sylar stared at her. Claire bit her bottom lip. "You didn't see what happened?"

"If I'd seen what happened," he said, in a voice that she remembered from when he was stalking her in her own home. "It wouldn't have happened."

Claire set the bowl down and massaged her eyes with her fingertips. "I can't die. I can't feel pain." She laughed a little, though nothing was funny. "Why does this feel so horrible?"

Sylar didn't say anything. He didn't think it'd make her feel any better to know he'd tortured the little pick first before finally taking him out. Big tough guy, that kid. He could easily take advantage of a girl who was crying and scared, but when it was him crying and begging...Sylar had found it even better that he cried. He'd wanted him to cry. He'd wanted him to be just as scared and tormented as Claire had been.

"Thanks for..." Claire picked her bowl again and took a small bite. "Everything, I guess."

"You're welcome," was all he could reply with.

----------

"Clean sheets are on the bed," Sylar said, walking back into the living room. "I'll take the sofa."

"I can take the sofa," Claire said, almost indignantly.

Sylar shook his head. "I like to be close to the front door," he lied.

---------

The bed was big and cold, and Claire wriggled around, trying to get comfortable. She cried a little, stared out the window for a while, and finally got up and wandered back into the living room. Sylar was still awake, but the television wasn't on. He was just sitting, staring down at the floor, picking lint off of his pajama bottoms.

"Sylar...?" She asked, clearing her throat.

"Gabriel," he said, looking at her. "My name is Gabriel."

Claire smiled a little, a little grin at the corner of her mouth, squishing up part of her nose. "Gabriel," she said. "Are you going to go to sleep?"

"Eventually." He went back to staring at his pants.

Claire had yet again taken a step into bravery, and lost-just like a bad game of dodgeball. She sat down beside Gabriel, and after several long, quiet minutes, asked, "Will you sleep in the bed with me?"

Gabriel looked at her. "No, Claire."

"Not like that," She said, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she said, "Just to sleep. I just...I don't want to be alone."

Gabriel reached over and pushed some curly strands of hair out of her face. He'd never noticed, but her hair was naturally curly. He guessed she spent a lot of time after showers making it straight. He wished she'd just leave it like that.

"I really, really just don't want to be alone," Claire said, her eyes growing wet. "The time you kissed me- she quickly corrected herself. "The time you used Lydia's powers...you said we were just alike, and I know we are, but I just never knew how." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I feel safe here, and I shouldn't. Not with you."

Gabriel continued to stroke her hair. "It would only be sleeping, Claire," he said quietly.

Claire nodded. Gabriel nodded too, and stood up, pulling her up with him. He followed her to bed, and chuckled softly when she kept checking back to make sure he was still behind her. She climbed into the bed first, and he followed shortly. Claire took another blind leap of faith and snuggled against him, and she was glad he didn't pull away. He just kissed her lips, softly, almost too softly, and wrapped his arms around her. He was incredibly warm, and Claire didn't even mind that the AC was still blasting frigid air on her backside.

"Can I stay here?" She whispered, yawning.

"As long as you like," Gabriel murmured back, kissing her again, a different kind of kiss this time. "Forever, if you want to."

Claire yawned again, smiling drowsily as Gabriel rested his chin on top of her head. "Forever is a long time."

After she fell asleep, Gabriel said, "Not long enough."

Parenting: A New Voyage (Part 3)

Nyota frowned, staring at the object in her hand. One of the other female cadets exited the stall-Jaena was her name, and Nyota often saw her in passing. More frequently than usual.

"Still nothing?" Jaena asked, applying some fresh makeup to her foreign, slanted eyes.

"Nothing." Nyota sighed. "I'll never get pregnant. I mean, what could be wrong with me? We didn't even try to have our son, and then suddenly we do want a child and can't have one?" She tossed the pregnancy test into the waste bin and proceeded to wash her hands. "We've been trying for a month now."

"Maybe you should get a fertility test," Jaena shrugged. "Maybe there's an issue that can be fixed."

Nyota leaned her lower back against the sink. "Spock wouldn't be to happy to get tested. You know how men are. If I told him he might be sterile, he'd probably go sit in the bath tub with a toaster."

Jaena laughed. "You must see a really different side of Commander Spock."

"I hate men." Nyota frowned. "Why can't I be like your species? You don't even need them to have children."

"It's not that terrific," Jaena said. "Our birth control method is Hell." She snapped her compact shut. "If he really wants a child too, I'm sure he'd be up for testing."

--------

"Spock, I have a question?" Jim asked, as they headed for the mess hall for lunch. "Apparently your wife can't keep her mouth shut and has been going on and on about having another baby, but I was thinking. Why do people call it 'trying to get pregnant'? Why don't they just say 'We're having a lot more sex than usual'."

Spock frowned at him and decided not to answer. Jim took him silence the wrong way and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "You are having more sex, right? I mean, you guys aren't at it all the time..."

"Captain, I do not believe this is an appropiate conversation to have with you now, or ever, for that matter," Spock said.

"You guys hardly have sex," Jim guessed.

"We engage in such activities every night," Spock almost snapped. He caught himself and tried not to groan.

Jim grinned. "So what are you wanting? Girl? Another boy? If it's a boy can you name Crunch?" He grinned. "Then, if he becomes a captain someday..." he rolled his eyes when the joke was not making its way to Spock's brain. "Nevermind."

"We would like to have a daughter," Spock said. "We already have a son."

"You could name her Deborah Duncan Doughnuts," Kirk suggested. "Or Prunella. Or Boonifa."

"We've already discussed names," Spock told him. "We have it narrowed down to Amanda or Grace."

"Well, from what Uhura's been bitching about to everyone around here, you may not be having anything."

-----------

"Mama!" Orion screamed and stomped his feet as his toy broke in two. "Mama!"

Nyota stepped out of the bathroom and sighed, massaging her forehead with her fingertips. "Orie, Mama's tired. What is it?"

Orion tossed the two pieces at her feet and threw himself on the floor, kicking and screaming. At that moment, Spock entered the dwelling and stared at him, and then the broken toy. Nyota ignored the child completely and said, "I haven't started dinner yet. How about we just do a scavenger night? Eat whatever we can find?"

"Sounds reasonable," Spock agreed, picking up frustration in her voice. "Are you feeling well?"

"I started my period," Nyota sighed, moving into the kitchen. "Baby...it's just not going to happen." She sat down at the table and placed her head on it.

Spock made his way over to her and pulled his own chair and closer before sitting beside her. He rubbed her back. "These things take time-"

Nyota looked up. She had been crying. She wiped her eyes and said, "What if it never happens?"

"Mama?" Orion walked over, a worried expression on his face. He patted her leg. "Mama, crying?" He rubbed her leg. "No crying, Mama."

Nyota smiled and picked him up, sitting him in her lap. She kissed the top of his head. "I guess it's not a total loss if it doesn't happen, right?" She sighed. "I just want this family to be complete. I want another child so Orion isn't so lonely, and a baby that I can just swaddle..."

-----------

"Spock!" Nyota shook him awake. She was sitting on her knees, still in her night shirt and panties. "Spock, wake up! It lit up! It lit up!"

"Hm?" Spock rolled over. "Excuse me?"

"The pregnancy test! Look! The light lit up! I'm pregnant!" She bounced on her knees. "We're pregnant!"

Spock smiled a little and raised up to kiss her. "This is exciting news."

"You could sound a little more excited," Nyota joked. "Oh my God! We're actually going to have another baby!"

--------

Two months into the pregnancy, Nyota had a miscarriage. She'd been complaining on the bridge of abodominal pains and Kirk immediately sent her to the medical ward. When she didn't return after a few hours, Spock excused himself and made his way there. McCoy asked to speak with him before he saw her.

"She lost the baby," he said, sounding geninunely sympathetic. "I'm so sorry."

Nyota was beside herself in tears. Spock moved to her side and pulled her against him, rubbing her shoulder and side. He didn't know what to say, or if there was anything he could say, so he just held her. Nyota cried and cried, and they stayed like that until Kirk told them to retire for the rest of the day.

Spock asked Miss Kleknev, the nanny who watched Orion during the day, if she would mind watching him for a few extra hours. Word around the ship had spread quickly, and the nanny agreed solemnly and made them a pot of hot tea before she set off with Orion. Spock and Nyota sat on the sofa, the only sound being Nyota's soft weeping.

"Two months," she finally said, sniffling, touching her stomach. "We had a baby for two months."

"We could try again," Spock murmered, pulling her closer.

Nyota shook her head. "No, I'm done. I can't go through this again." She buried her face into his chest. "When McCoy told me, I don't think I've ever felt so empty inside."

"If it helps," Spock continued to rub her back. "I know what loss feels like."

"I know," Nyota whispered, tilting her head to kiss him. "I don't think I could get through this without you here."

Spock studied her for a long time, and then shifted to dig his communication device from his back pocket. He flipped it open and went to the photograph and media section. He clicked a few buttons and held it out so the hologram projected from it had enough room to be the correct size and unsmooshed.

A small holographic video of a skinny baby appeared, lying on his back, flailing his arms and legs and cooing to himself. Nyota smiled and poked her finger through the holographic image. "There's our baby. Little Orion James."

Spock changed videos, and then next one showed a one year old, sitting up, his face covered in something. In one hand, he had a cookie. In the other, a mashed banana-like fruit. He grinned, showing a few scattered teeth.  The next video showed him wobbling on unsteady legs, and the next was Nyota's favorite.

"You kept that when I sent it to you?" She asked quietly. "You didn't delete it?"

Spock shook his head, staring at it. "I knew it was your favorite."

The video showed Orion giggling and stomping his feet. Behind him, Spock was on his hands and knees, and without warning, he tore after the toddler who toddled at top speed. Spock was growling and pretending to bite him. In the background, holding the camera, Nyota was laughing. They both watched, and Spock finally said, "Please do not let this particular video leave our dwelling."

"I would never," Nyota giggled. "Only your family gets to see this side of Spock." She sighed and leaned on him once more. "How about we take a bath? A nice, long bath? I'll light candles."

Spock nodded. "I wouldn't oppose to that." He looked towards the kitchen. "Would you like some of your favorite wine with your candles?"

"I would." Nyota grinned. "And then after, we can lay in bed, and talk about anything and everything, and then if talking turns into something else..."

---------

"Baby, don't be nervous," Nyota said, rubbing his back and leaning her head on his shoulder. "You're a good man. A great father. A wonderful husband." 

It was the first time Spock would be around other Vulcans since they had started to recolonize on their new planet. His father had repeatedly tried to get in touch with him, but Spock just hadn't been ready to reconnect with that part of his life. He finally agreed to visit New Vulcan, and was bringing Nyota and Orion. 

Spock shifted the sleeping toddler in his arms, and felt drool seep down his neck. He sighed slightly. "I'm grateful you're here with me."

Earth was one thing. There were a few humans afraid of change, clustered together on various parts of the planet. They didn't believe in interracial marriage let alone breeding, but Vulcan was worse. It was rare  to actually believe in diversity. To trust other species. Especially humans. So Spock wasn't surprised when they arrived at the so-called 'welcome' center that they did not feel welcomed at all. Mothers let their children blatently stare. People whispered. 

"Hi!" Orion waved to everybody, waking up to the sound of voices over an intercom. He stopped waving, and looked around. He touched his own ears, and then his fathers. He was looking at everyone else. The ones who looked so much like him.

Spock and Nyota waited in line to exchange and receive their special cards to be on the planet legally as visitors, and as they waited, Orion whined to be put down and Spock complied. Orion stayed by his side, but stared at the Vulcans curiously.  Off in the corner, a mother held a small child-Orion's size, and the child sat still in her lap, quietly playing with an educational comfort object. 

"What's that?" Orion tugged on Spock's pant leg. "Daddy, wassat?"

Spock glanced over quickly. "Toy."

"Where's my toys?" Orion's little brows furrowed.

"They're packed away. We'll unpack them when we get to your grandfather's house," Nyota said. "Stay with Mama and Daddy."

"That poor child," one elderly Vulcan woman whispered to another. "They raised him to be incredibly human."

"I can see that," the other muttered in return. "Highly ilogical."

Spock heard them, and felt his face heating. Orion continued to speak loudly and ask questions, and then started to whine. He wanted his toys. He wanted his water. He wanted to be held. He wanted to be put down. He wanted something to eat. He was tired. He wasn't tired. It didn't seem to end. 

"He's tired," Nyota said, seeing the frustration on Spock's face. "It was a long way here."

 "I know," Spock muttered.

By the time they got their passes and were out of the welcome center, Vulcans were shamelessly staring at them. Orion kept waving and saying hello, but nobody greeted him back. Nyota held Spock's hand. "I love you," she half mouthed, half whispered.

"I love you," he muttered back.

It was strange returning home. He half expected his mother to greet him, the way she normally did. He'd always promised her that she would meet Nyota, but he continueously had to put off the meeting, and now it was too late. He knew that she would have loved her. He also knew that she would have loved Orion. She'd told him stories about her own grandparents when he was younger, and they'd spoiled her. Deep down though he knew it was not right, he wanted Orion to be emotionally spoiled as well.

"Spock." His father was there to greet him instead. He was smiling kindly, his eyes crinkling at the ends. He looked older than ever before. His gaze moved from his son, to the daughter in law he'd never officially met, to the grandson he'd never met.

"Father." Spock said. He took Nyota's forearm gently and moved her in front of him. "My wife, Nyota." He then took Orion from her arms. "Our son, Orion."

"Say hello," Nyota coaxed softly.

"No." Orion made a face and buried his head against her shoulder. "No, Mama."

"I apologize," Nyota said, sounding exasperated. "He's tired, and a little shy."

"He is exactly like his father was at that age," Spock's father remarked. "Very talkative, very opinionated, very active..."

"This Spock?" Nyota pointed. "This one right here? He was talkative and opinionated?" She smiled up at her husband, teasingly.

"Set him down," Spock's father coaxed.

Nyota started to do so and Orion whined even louder. She pried him away from her and set him on the ground. Orion stomped his feet and began to cry, and went to Spock instead, raising his arms. Spock squatted down and stroked his hair. "You're not hurt," he reminded him. "You're safe."

"I want to show you something," his father said. "Please, come in. Have some tea."

Once they were inside and seated, Spock's father disappeared briefly and returned with something wrapped in fancy cloth. It was a holographic orb, the kind used to capture and project images and video. Spock immediately recognized it as his mother's.

"Your mother captured every moment of your youth in this device," he spoke. "I've kept it all these years." His eyes appeared to become older and sadder. "It's the one item she took with her during our escape." He fiddled with for a bit, and then it lit up, projected a grainy, glitchy holographic image.

The first image showed Amanda, and Spock's heart swelled. She was holding a baby in her lap, the camera angle awkward, making it obvious that she was holding the baby with one arm and using the other to film. The baby looked surprisingly a lot like Orion.

"Mama loves you," she chuckled, kissing the baby's cheek. The little baby smiled slightly, drool coming from his mouth. "Mama loves you." She kissed his other cheek. The baby chuckled softly.

"Mama!" Orion pointed. "Daddy, Mama!"

"That's Daddy's mama," Nyota told him.

The image changed, this time to a crawling baby Spock, singing and cooing to himself. Occassionally he'd stop and rock back and forth, and shake his head. His mother's laughter could be heard in the background. Nyota covered her mouth, smiling. She remembered that Orion had done the same thing as an infant. Spock's father watched intently, his eyes more relaxed.

"Why have I never seen any of this?" Spock asked, still staring at the changing footage.

"I always assumed your mother would show it to you," his father said, almost sighing.

"Mama!" The next video showed a wailing baby Spock, sitting on the floor, kicking his little feet. "Mama!"

"What's wrong, my darling?" Amanda's voice asked.

"Mama!" The crying baby tipped over, continuing his tantrum.

"The sleepy cry," Nyota murmered, easily recognizing it. "You were a sleepy boy."

"That's me?" Orion pointed. "Mama? That's me?"

"No, that's Daddy when he was little like you," Nyota told him. "He just looks just like you."

The video changed again. This time, Spock was easily two or three, staring solemnly at the camera. Amanda could be heard asking, "Is there something on your mind, Spock?"

"Your name is 'Mother'," the little Spock said. He began fiddling with some kind of educational toy lying beside him.

"My name is Mother?" Amanda responded, hardly sounding amused.

"All of the other children in my learning group call their Mamas 'Mother'," he explained. He turned back to her. "So your name is Mother."

"Oh." Amanda shifted the camera. She'd obviously knelt or sat down. "Is your name still Spock?"

"Yes." Spock put the toy down. He motioned for his mother to come closer. She did so, as the projection seemed to zoom in. "Your secret name is Mama," he said quietly.

"Alright," Amanda said. "So I can still be Mama at home?"

"Yes." Spock smiled slightly, showing some baby teeth. He handed her the toy. "Mama."

--------

To Be Continued...

Parenting: A New Voyage (Part 2)

Orion loved Earth. Everytime the Enterprise docked there, or Uhura and Spock took vacation time there, the toddler couldn't get enough. He bounced around as he waited for his parents to complete all of the necessary information on the ship, his father clutching his hand tightly while speaking to Jim.

"Slow down, Champ!" Jim said, watching him. "You'll have an annurism."

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy, look!" Orion pointed towards the beach in the distance. "Daddy!"

"That's the ocean," Spock reminded him. He finished the check-out information and picked him up. "We must wait on your mother."

Orion stared out to sea, his little eyes big and glittering and intense. Absent-mindedly, he brushed his little fingers over Spock's face as he did so. Nyota soon joined them, checking something on her multi-purpose communication device. "We have a good hotel this time, Babe," she said. "It actually has a pool with water in it."

"I fail to comprehend the need for a recreation swimming structure when we're so close to the sea," Spock said, gesturing towards the beach.

"This pool is designed to look like a tropical oasis," Nyota said. "And I had to book it four months in advance. Do you really want to argue with me?" She was smiling, joking, but she jabbed her index finger into his chest playfully.

"No, ma'am," Spock said dryly, joking back.

----------

"Okay, here are your card keys," the hotel clerk said, producing the items. "Enjoy your stay. Breakfast is at six am. Complimentary waffles, bagels, yogurts, fruits, and we have our new Sepherian bacon too."

"Thanks." Nyota smiled, not mentioning they were vegetarians. They traveled to their designated room, and when Nyota opened the door, Orion charged in, flopping onto the bed.

"This is so much nicer than the last one we stayed in," Nyota said, setting her bag down beside the child. "The serial killer motel."

"Ocean!" Orion ran to the window and stood on his tip-toes. "Daddy, ocean!"

"Let's take a nap," Nyota suggested, collapsing onto the bed and kicking off her shoes. "Come on, Orie. Naptime." She winked at Spock. He rolled his eyes, but laid down beside her.

"Nigh-night, Daddy." Nyota patted him and Spock closed his eyes. She then closed hers and pretended to snore.

Orion turned in their direction and frowned. "No." He then turned back to the window. After a moment or so, he climbed onto the bed, sitting squarely on Spock's chest, and shook them both-one with each hand. "No. No nigh-night. Mama, no. Daddy, no."

"He's about to get pissed," Nyota muttered.

"No!" Orion became frantic. "No! No!" He began to whine. "Daddy, no!"

"This is cruel." Spock sat up, pulling the crying toddler closer. He kissed him and brushed some of his tears and snot away with the back of his hand.

"We're sorry, Baby." Nyota sat up too. "Not nigh-night time." She stared at the window. "Want to go to the beach?"

"Yes!" Orion grinned.

---------

One of the few things Spock did not enjoy about human culture was their lack of modesty. Women swam in under garments simply made of a different material. They didn't seem embarrassed by it all. Nyota was no exception. Spock felt just a twinge of anxiety when she stepped out of the bathroom clad only in the dark purple bikini. He relaxed a bit when she tugged some shorts on over the bottom piece, but they were still a little short for his liking.

"Sunscreen." Nyota tossed Spock the tube. She looked at Orion. "I don't think he'll need any. Last time he only got darker, he didn't burn."

It was true. The last visit to earth had involved a water theme park, and Orion had returned to the enterprise almost as dark as his mother. Spock took the tube and began to apply sunscreen to his own, burnable skin. Nyota watched him, and he finally paused. "Is something wrong?"

"Let me help you," she said. She began to lather him up quickly. "You're too slow, Baby."

"Too slow," Orion agreed, picking at the nylon cords on the front of his swim trunks.

Spock waited patiently for Nyota to finish. He poked part of her stomach and said, "It would be wise to adjust your briefs."

"What?" Nyota looked down to see what he was talking about. The tattoo. Before they were married, still dating, she'd gotten a tattoo of his name in Vulcan, just to the side of and below her navel. He'd gotten hers done the same way in English, just on his back.

"You're such a male," she groaned, using one hand to tug her shorts up. "Why don't I just go naked? See how you like that?"

"Please don't," Spock said, almost cheerfully. Again, he was joking back.

--------

There were a lot of families at the beach. Several toddlers, but Orion suddenly became shy around all of the unfamilar faces and wanted his parents to carry him.  Spock noticed a few stares come their way, but tried not to think anything of it. Nyota stopped at a certain point and she and Spock unloaded the towels, drink cooler, and umbrella.

"Let them stare," she muttered. "Remember, not all of Earth-not even America, has its head out of its ass just yet." She sighed. "Plus we're in Florida. A lot of backwood hillbillies still live here."

"Hello." Another couple approached them, holding a little girl-most likely a year or two older than Orion. "Can we set our things right next to yours? The beach is kind of crowded."

"Sure." Nyota smiled. She looked at the little girl. "Hello there."

The couple were both human, both white, but seemed nice enough. They began to unload their things. The mother turned towards Orion, who was at the water's edge, holding Spock's hand. Occassionally he would creep forward, giggle, and step back.

"That one yours?" The mother asked, pointing.

"Those are my favorite men," Nyota responded, grinning. "We work for Starfleet so it's always a big deal when we get to dock and go out."

"Oh." The mother nodded. "That sounds exciting. What's your son's name? How old is he?"

"He'll be two in another month," Nyota said. "His name is Orion. Orion James S'chn T'gai-Uhura." She leaned back on her palms. "Yours?"

"Gina. She'll be four in three months." The other mother leaned back on her palms. "They're a handful, aren't they?"

"Nothing can truly prepare you for it," Nyota agreed. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything else."

"Oh, of course not." The other mother placed her hand to her stomach. "That's why I'm having another. I'm hoping for another girl so Gina will have a sister."

Nyota looked at her stomach, which was starting to poke out, now that she thought about it. "Congradulations."

"Are you planning on just the one?" The mother asked, looking at Orion, who was now up to his waist in the water, stomping and splashing.

"I would like more," Nyota confessed, suddenly giving it some thought. "We didn't really plan on the one we have, he just happened, but I think a girl would be nice." She laughed a little.

"What race is your husband?" The mother asked. She stared at Spock. "He's handsome."

"He's a mess," Nyota scoffed jokingly. "He's Vulcan."

"Oh, I heard about something on the news about Vulcans a while back," the mother said. "There aren't many of them left."

"No." Nyota sighed, staring sadly at Spock. "I guess that makes me extra lucky."

"Your son looks just like him," the mother pointed out. "They have the same ears and eyes and nose."

"Your daughter looks just like you," Nyota said. "You both have gorgeous blonde hair."

"Mama!" Orion toddled up to her. "Mama, I'm wet!"

"You're wet?" Nyota sat up. "You're wet from the water, or you're wet from-"

"The water," Spock clarified quickly. He opened the cooler and retrieved a bottle of water. He unscrewed the lid and helped Orion hold it so he could get a drink. When the toddler finished, Spock took a drink.

"Hi." Gina walked up with her own father, and waved at Orion. "Hi."

Orion frowned at her and held onto his father. Nyota rolled her eyes and swatted him playfully. "Hey, be nice. Say hello. She said hello to you."

"No." Orion stuck his thumb in his mouth.

"That is unecessary," Spock muttered, removing his thumb. He began to dust sand off the little boy.

"Hey!" The mother sat up straight. "Are you two staying at the Glass shell?"

"We are," Nyota said.

"They have a childcare service, free of charge," the mother explained quickly. "Why don't the four of us go out tonight? I can't drink, but I'd still love to mingle with other adults."

Nyota looked at Spock. "What do you think? Would you like to?"

"Whatever you prefer is acceptable to me," Spock said. It was code for 'Yes. Yes. Oh God. Yes'.

---------

"And this is his cup," Zoe continued to rattle on to the nanny that would come and stay in their room until they returned. "If he wants something to drink, just fill it to this mark with water and don't let him lay down with it. And this is his taggie blanket. He won't sleep with out it. And I left my communication number, Spock's communication number, and Jim Kirk's communication number-he's Orion's godfather."

"Yes, ma'am," the young woman-most likely an intern to childcare, nodded vigerously. She smiled, showing off her braces. "I think I have everything."

"Oh, and he's wearing a diaper, but he may insist on using the toilet. If he does, let him. For the love of space, let him." Nyota leaned down and kissed the snoring toddler. Spock did the same.

"We shouldn't be out too late," Nyota said, Spock prodding her out the door. "Take care, Kristen."

When they were out the door, Nyota sighed. "I hope that was all she needed to know." She smiled at Spock. "I'm so glad you let me gel your hair. And look at your sexy shirt." She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "My big, handsome man."

"I look ridiculous," Spock said.

"You look fabulous," Nyota corrected him. "I just hope I don't have to kick some other woman's ass over you." She straightened out his collar.

----------

"Hey!" Tina, the mother from the beach, waved them over to a table in the crowded bar. Her husband, Nicholas, was up getting drinks. "So how do you like the babysitting service?"

Nyota looked at Spock. "Go ahead. I know you're dying to tell her."

"I beg your pardon?" Spock didn't smile, but his eyes were. "You wish for me to recount our last forty-five minutes of you giving extra specific instructions, even the obvious ones?"

Nyota laughed and elbowed him playfully. "I love my baby! I have to be specific. And it wasn't forty-five minutes."

"You're right," he said. "Forgive me." He turned to Tina. "Fifty-two."

"Shut up!" Nyota shoved his head with the heel of her hand.

Nicholas returned shortly with his and Tina's drink-virgin for her. He shook hands with Spock and then Nyota. "Tina tells me you two work for Starfleet."

"That's right," Nyota said. "It's nice to be back on Earth for a while." She turned to Spock. "What do you want to drink?"

Spock's brows furrowed slightly. "What would you like?"

Nyota shrugged. "Are you going up there?"

"Yes."

"Just bring me back whatever you're getting plus a gibs-fruit daquiri." Nyota said.

When Spock disappeared, she turned back to the couple. "So you two are on vacation, I take it?"

"Sort of," Tina said. "We live around here, but both took off work to enjoy the beach and Disney World."

"Oh, if we had the time, we would definitely do Disney World," Nyota said, almost pouting. "I just know Orion would love it."

"It's so much fun," Nicholas said. "With or without kids there."

"More fun with kids," Tina countered. "He just says that because that's where he proposed to me."

Nyota smiled. "Aww...how sweet."

"So what's the story of you and Spock?" Tina asked. "Met at work? Met on vacation?"

Nyota blushed. "He was my professor back at the academy..." she covered her face. "Oh, God, I hate telling this story."

Tina laughed. "Ooh...I like this already."

"No, it's not like that." Nyota laughed too. "I'd already graduated when we started dating. He was just...shy...not much of a talker...very professional...I didn't know when to shut up, kind of a party girl. Opposites attract?" She laughed again.

"They only had strawberry daquiris," Spock said when he returned. "So, here is your strawberry daquiri, and Budweiser classic."

"You actually got a Budweiser?" Nyota raised an eyebrow at him.

"And Jack and Coke," Nicholas pointed out, raising up his own glass to clink it against Spock's. "Good choice, Bro."

"So Spock, how did you propose to Nyota?" Tina asked. "She was just telling up about your wild academy days?"

"Was she?" Spock turned to his wife.

"I told them the truth. I told them we waited until I graduated," Nyota groaned.

"Wait, so you had feelings for each other before?" Tina asked.

Nyota started to speak, but Spock covered her mouth casually. Nyota pushed it away. "He told me, and I brushed him off until we graduated."

"Aww!" Tina giggled. "That's adorable. So what happened next?"

"We dated for a while, a couple of years, and then he proposed to me," Nyota shrugged.

"I know, but how." Tina sipped on her virgin drink. "That's what I'm trying to get at. The how."

"It's not romantic," Nyota said, twirling her straw around in her drink. "Trust me."

"I imagine you were both watching the stars and he got down on one knee and asked you to be his one and only," Tina said. She smiled at Nicholas. "That's what Nicky did."

"He asked me after sex one night," Nyota said, trying hard to keep a straight face. She pretended to pant. "Nyota...marry me..." She threw her arms back. "Voila. There you go."

"A little discretion," Spock muttered, sipping at his drink.

"What? That's how it happened," Nyota said.

"I obtained a ring for you the following week," Spock argued weakly.

"And it was a gorgeous ring." Nyota stroked his gelled her, secretly admiring her handiwork. "Hey, Baby? Do you think we can alter our schedule just a little to go to Disney World?" She smiled toothily.

"Disney World?" He repeated.

"Orion would love it."

"He would," Tina agreed. "Gina can't get enough of it."

"Please?" Nyota asked again. "You'll have fun too."

-----------

"I have something to tell you," Nyota whispered, when they were both settled in bed, Orion between them.

"What are you thinking?" Spock asked quietly, turning to face her.

"I want to have another baby," Nyota confessed.

Spock didn't say anything. Nyota sighed and continued, "We were both only children, and we missed out on so much not having siblings. Orion's lonely. I want him to have a playmate."

"Having another child would be perfectly logical," Spock said finally. "Acceptable." He brushed his nose against hers to find her lips. "Preferable."

"Really?" Nyota smiled through their kiss. "You'd really want another?"

"Yes," he said. "A daughter."

"I want a daughter too." Nyota stroked his hair. "You don't know how happy this makes me."

-----------

 Disney World was jammed packed with tourists, both from Earth and visiting planets. Park attendents, both organic and mechanical, were hard at work, keeping the lines in order, offering to take photographs, and helping with location confusion.

"Hasn't changed one bit since I was a kid," Nyota joked. "Which is funny because my father said the same thing, and so did my grandmother." She pointed to somebody in a Donald Duck costume. "Look, Orion, who's that?"

"Quack Quack!" Orion flapped his arms. He turned to Spock. "Duck!"

"Donald Duck," Nyota informed him. She looked around. "Where should we go first-" she was cut off when somebody screamed.

She and Spock turned to see a little girl, Orion's age, stomping and waving her hands around. A park actress dressed as Cinderella was kneeling beside her. The little girl grinned from ear to ear and hugged her, still squealing. Nyota smiled, and wondered if her future daughter would act like that at Disney World.

To Be Continued...