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Jim walks through the front door and shuts it as quietly as he can behind him. He’s home early from his admiral duties and wants to surprise Spock.
They’ve been married for a little over 20 years now (22? 23? Jim would have to ask Spock for the exact number) and Jim has perfected the art of being just quiet enough that Spock’s Vulcan ears don’t detect him. (It comes especially in handy when Jim sneaks to the kitchen or replicator for a midnight snack.)
Jim takes off his shoes (for maximum stealth) and begins making his way towards Spock’s office, where his husband is bound to be planning a lesson or evaluating reports for the Academy classes he instructs. Jim edges through the house and gets about halfway there when he hears a soft sound from their shared bedroom… on the other side of the house from the offices.
Jim pauses and strains his ears, wishing for some of Spock’s Vulcan hearing. He hears a low voice, both in pitch and volume, presumably Spock’s, as well as a... purring sound? Or was it more of a trilling?
Jim whispers to himself, “What the fuck?” and inches closer to the bedroom. He’s trying his hardest to sneak to the other side of the house undetected, scooting and sliding his socked feet across the hardwood floors. He slows as he approaches the closed bedroom door.
He’s immediately outside of it now and leans up against it. He listens closely. Spock is softly speaking… no! singing! in Vulcan. Jim’s been learning Vulcan, but Spock’s voice is too quiet to make out and there aren't enough words that Jim knows.
Jim cups his hands against the door and listens. Then, he hears it.
The sound that’s haunted his nightmares for many nights. A sound he hasn’t heard since his first five-year mission on the Enterprise. The same mission that left Captain James T. Kirk jumping every time he touched something fluffy. The same damn mission that made him check his captain’s chair every time he sat down for nearly six solar months.
“What the Fuck.”
Jim bursts through the bedroom door and glares at his husband, sitting on their shared bed, holding a goddamn tribble of all things.
“What the hell!”
Spock seems unsurprised by both the sudden opening of the door and Jim’s quite emotional outburst. “Welcome home, Ashayam. I appreciate your censoring of expletives in my presence, although it’s quite unnecessary.”
“Wait, you heard me sneak up on you?”
“Indeed. Nearly every time. The only exception is the day I was listening to Klingon opera.”
“So you know about the midnight snacks, too?” Spock nods. “So you mean I’ve never snuck up on you before?” Jim feels slightly dejected. He really thought that he was getting good at sneaking midnight snacks (and more importantly, surprising his husband).
Spock tilts his head and attempts to correct Jim, “As I said, the exception is the day I was listening to--”
“Yes, yes! I know! The Klingon opera! I really don’t know why you like that s– Ugh! It doesn't matter! What matters is: What,” he points at the tribble, “is that?”
Spock continues petting it and replies nonchalantly, “A tribble.”
Jim puts his hands on his hips. “Yes! I know it’s a tribble! What is it doing. in our bedroom.”
“I believe it is being pet.”
“Spock!”
“Jim.”
“Spock. My love. My darling, my partner. My best friend, my. other. half. My ashayam. My t’hy’la… WHY. is. it. here?” Jim’s face was getting flustered in barely-contained frustration.
“It is my pet.”
“SPOCK!” Jim rubs his hands over his face and brings them to his temples, lightly massaging them. He counts backwards from ten, takes a deep breath, and continues more calmly this time, “How long have you had it?”
“One year, ten months, eight days, three h–”
“TWO YEARS??”
“No Jim, one year, ten m–”
“Spock! You know how I feel about tribbles!”
“Yes. That is why I was attempting to keep her a secret from you.”
Jim startles slightly at the change of pronouns from it to her. “Her? …her.” Jim realizes that he’s being kind of ridiculous. It’s just a tribble. Spock wasn’t one to ask things of Jim and if he was hiding it– hiding her– from Jim, he must really like the damn thing. Spock has obviously had this pet for a while and probably cares about her very much (even if he would be hesitant to admit the fact).
He walks around the bed to sit next to Spock, their thighs touching. Jim’s face softens; he smiles and touches his hand to Spock’s lower back. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I’m being kinda rude, aren’t I?” He sighs and runs his hand along Spock’s back. “Can I ask where you’ve been keeping her all this time?”
Jim reaches his other hand out to touch the tribble, but stops just short of the tan-and-white mottled fur. He looks up to Spock, silently asking permission. Spock nods and Jim closes the distance, lightly petting the small spherical creature. The tribble purrs in Spock’s hands and Jim feels tranquility run through his hand, up his arm, and sends waves throughout his body. He hadn’t really experienced how relaxing that feels, since both times the tribbles had taken over his ship, he’d had too much to worry about to think about how relaxed the little poofballs could make you feel.
Spock continues, “At night, I have been storing her under our bed; although occasionally, I will keep her in my office here. During the day, I bring her to the Academy with me, where she stays in my office or the lab. Sometimes a student will offer to watch her overnight.”
Jim retracts his hand from the purring tribble. “Alright. Again, I’m… sorry that I overreacted. Tribbles still… irk me, and I’m not… the best? at handling unexpected change. But neither of those are really excuses for me to be an ass to you, Spock.”
“No offense was taken, Jim. I understand that you are human and that your reactions to such situations will most likely be highly illogical.”
Jim rolls his eyes. “And you deciding to take me, a highly illogical human, as your husband was a decision based entirely in logic?”
Spock gives Jim an almost-smile. “Entirely.” He retracts one of his hands from the tribble and reaches his hand out towards his husband, offering Jim an ozh’esta. Jim’s hand meets Spock’s, and he feels waves of contentment, affection, and love rush from Spock’s body into his own as Spock lowers his mental shields. Entirely logical, my ass. Jim thinks.
Spock arches an eyebrow.
Jim smiles and changes the subject back to the tribble. “So, what’s her name?”
Spock tilts his head. “I have given her the name An’kar.”
Jim grins. “Anchor?”
Spock corrects, “No, Jim. An’kar. It is Vulcan.”
“On... Car…” Jim repeats terribly. “What does it mean?” Spock has been teaching Jim Vulcan and he’s studied on his own a little, but he can’t seem to recall hearing this word.
There’s a twinkle in Spock’s eye and Jim feels some anticipation through their bond. “An’kar is the Vulcan term for cushion or pillow.”
“Cushion… or pillow…?”
Spock nods.
“Like when I…” Jim quickly gets up and sits back down again to demonstrate words left unsaid. “to the tribbles… on the Enterprise?”
Spock nods again.
Something in Jim breaks and he bursts out laughing. He feels all leftover frustration leave him, and he’s laughing harder than he’s laughed in a long time. He’s laughing so hard his face turns red and tears form in his eyes and spill down his face. He’s laughing so hard he snorts a few times and his ribs hurt and he’s having the slightest trouble breathing. Jim’s head falls to Spock’s shoulder as he tries (and fails) to calm his nearly-violent laughter.
Spock breaks the ozh’esta and soothes his hand along Jim’s back until the prolonged, raucous laughter deteriorates into small giggles and hiccups. “Ashalik, you find this humorous?”
“Spock!” Jim removes his head from his husband’s shoulder abruptly and articulates his partner’s name with a quick kiss on his lips. “You,” he pokes a finger at Spock’s chest, “know damn well I find that funny. You did that on purpose.”
Spock runs his hand up Jim’s spine through his uniform. “Perhaps.”
“Nuh-uh-uh, no ‘perhaps’ here, Mister,” Jim taps his own forehead then taps Spocks, “Bonded, remember? I know you did that on purpose.”
“I don’t seem to recall what you’re speaking of.”
Jim kisses Spock’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go change out of this damn uniform.” He gets up off the bed, groaning a little bit and stretching out his back which gives off a few loud pops and crackles. “And when I come back, you’re telling me about how you got An… On…? Ank… Nevermind. How you got the tribble.”
Spock hums in confirmation and Jim kisses the top of his husband’s head before he walks to the bathroom.
Jim emerges wearing a Starfleet-issue white undershirt and some nearly-command-yellow non-Starfleet-issue boxers branded with the Starfleet insignia patterned across them. They were a Hanukkah gift from Bones a few years back; they were meant as a little joke gift, but had quickly become Jim’s favorite pair. Starfleet had taken to making merchandise for civilians, taking after previous ancient Earth space agencies (such as NASA). Most Starfleet officers find it humorous and own at least one piece of Starfleet Official merchandise meant for civilians.
Spock had changed positions from where Jim last left him and is now lying on the bed reading a print book with the tribble perched on his chest. Jim walks around to his own side of the bed and takes his spot next to Spock, who closes his book and places it on the bedside table as Jim tangles his hand into Spock's silky hair.
“What were you singing earlier? Before I so rudely interrupted?”
“It’s a simple Vulcan lullaby. I used to sing it to my mother.”
“Usually it’s the mothers singing to their children and not the other way around,” Jim teases.
“She would read to me instead. Her voice...”
“Wasn’t the best?”
“It was better suited for reading than singing.”
Jim laughs and ruffles Spock’s hair. “I’m telling her you said that.”
“It is her who refused to sing. She is very logical in the sense that she knows her limits.” Spock gives Jim a pointed look.
Jim puts a hand on his own chest in mock-offense. “And I don’t?”
“You refuse to accept that you never hit the correct notes.”
“Hey! I’m a great singer!”
Spock raises an eyebrow, and Jim laughs and touches their foreheads together.
Jim asks softly, his lips hovering just out of reach of Spock’s, “Can I ask who taught you the songs?”
“I had a book with lyrics and sheet music.”
“So you would pluck the strings on your ka'athyra to figure out the notes and then just sing them?”
Spock shakes his head. “I have perfect pitch, so it was rather easy to—”
“You have perfect pitch??” Jim interrupts, pulling slightly away from Spock in surprise.
“I believe that’s what I said.”
Jim huffs a little bit. “Damn. Probably explains why you’re so good at music. I feel like I learn something new about you every day.”
“Would you prefer it another way?”
“Mmmmmmmm, no. I don’t think I would,” Jim pats Spock’s cheek. “Keeps me on my toes.”
Spock leans forward to Jim and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips which causes Jim to close his eyes and hum contently. Spock begins to pull away, but Jim chases his lips and cups his face. He presses his lips back to Spock’s and gives small little nibbles to his bottom lip. Spock shifts slightly in the bed, pressing their bodies closer together and feeling the warmth of his husband's body seep through their nightclothes.
Jim’s hand travels from Spock’s face, running along his body until he’s grasping Spock’s hip. Jim entwines his legs in Spock’s and lets his hand rub small circles into Spock’s bare skin where his shirt has ridden up.
“Jim,” Spock’s rough voice does nothing but rouse Jim more, he moves his mouth along Spock’s cheek, leaving a trail of kisses towards his pointed ear.
“Mm. Yes, Spock?” Jim mumbles into his partner’s ear, lightly biting the lobe and kissing up to the pointed tip.
“Jim.”
“Spock.” Jim mimics back, grinding his hips into Spock’s thigh, leaning forward, and—
CHIRP.
“Shit!” Jim jumps backward away from Spock, nearly falling off the bed if it weren’t for Spock’s hand grabbing Jim by the front of his shirt. Jim had forgotten about the tribble and had slightly squished it between them in his attempt to seduce Spock, causing An’kar to make a sharp noise that reminded Jim of the distressed chirps the tribbles gave off in proximity to Klingons.
Spock helps Jim recover back onto the bed, and Jim lays flat, staring up at the ceiling and catching his breath. Once fully recovered with his breathing returned to a normal pace, he speaks up sheepishly, “I forgot about the tribble.”
“Obviously.”
Jim pushes his shoulder against Spock’s and gives a laugh. “I guess we shouldn’t do that with her in the room, huh?” Jim’s eyes open wide and he gives a terrified look at his husband, “Spock! We haven’t--!?”
“No. I relocated her to my office on the nights we engaged in coitus.”
Jim lets out a relieved sound that's somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle, and mumbles a small, “Good. Good,” then stares up at the ceiling once again.
“Would you like me to put An’kar in my office now?”
Jim gives a burst of bubbly laughter and rubs his hand across his face. “No, no. I just met her and it would be rude for me to immediately shut her out.” Jim shrugs, “We can hold off on the sex for one night.” Spock raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay. I can hold off on sex for one night.” Jim teasingly sticks his tongue out. Spock is rarely ever the one to initiate sex, so Jim would have to be the one to control his urges.
Jim sighs and gently takes An’kar from Spock, holding her close to his chest and petting her. He feels her purr and once again sighs as serenity sweeps over him. He closes his eyes, continues petting her, and changes the subject back to her origins, “Where’d you get her, anyway?”
Spock moves closer to his husband and puts one hand in his hair and the other petting the tribble alongside Jim’s hands. “Do you recall the study Doctor McCoy and I collaborated on a few years back?”
“Mhm. ‘M still not sure how you two managed to work together for so long without a murder happening.”
“I am unsure what you mean. The Doctor and I have always gotten along.”
“Pfffff! Yeah, okay.” Jim rolls his eyes.
“May I continue?” Spock asks. Jim nods and Spock continues, “The study we collaborated on to find out more about tribbles. On our missions on the Enterprise, we knew enough about them to know they could reproduce and that they were affected by the poison in the quadrotriticale. But we were curious about their structure, where their genetic mutations and manipulations originated from, their genealogy, and so forth. Doctor McCoy didn’t seem very interested, but I was also curious about their telepathic abilities.”
“Tribbles are telepathic?” Jim looks at the tribble in his hands. What am I thinking right now, you little fluffball? Jim thinks to An’kar.
“Jim, they don’t read minds; rather, they can read emotions over short distances and have the ability to project comfort through touch.”
“Oh.” Jim looks at An’kar and gives her a gentle poke. She slightly nudges him back and Jim laughs. “So how come they didn’t like Klingons? Emotions too violent?”
“No. We came to the conclusion that Klingons and tribbles are simply telepathically incompatible, leading to a mutual uneasiness around one another.”
“Ah, so tribbles like humans and Vulcans because we are compatible with them?”
“Yes, though Vulcans more so than humans. Most likely because of our superior telepathic capability. Although, on an individual basis it differs. Certain humanoid individuals may be more or less compatible with tribbles. And the opposite is true as well: individual tribbles may be more or less compatible with humanoids.”
“Ah, and you and Ms. Cushion here are telepathically compatible?”
“Indeed. To the point that it became difficult for the other researchers to handle her when she sensed my presence nearby.”
“So after the study concluded, she became your pet?”
Spock tilts his head slightly. “The study is still ongoing, but lab technicians handle most of the work. I took An’kar as a pet because she was no longer of use to the study. Doctor McCoy has sterilized her so she cannot reproduce, and she also is not the strain of tribble that grows extremely large. She is safe.”
“Of course. I should’ve known you’d take care of that.” Jim sends appreciative thoughts towards Spock. Then he pauses and thinks for a minute. “How did Bones react when she took a liking to you?”
“He was rather frustrated,” Spock said with an almost-smirk.
Jim chuckles. “Sounds like the ol’ doc! We should invite him for dinner sometime soon.”
“I shall inform him next time we speak.”
“Mmm. Thanks, babe.” Jim turns on his side with the tribble clutched to his chest and his back facing Spock. Spock wraps his arms around Jim and he settles into Spock’s slightly-colder arms. Listening to Spock talk all scientifically and being calmed by the tribble has made him sleepy.
Spock feels Jim’s fatigue through the bond and warns, “Ashayam, we haven’t had dinner.” Jim grumbles something and snuggles in further, attempting to use his feet to pull the blankets over himself. “If you fall asleep now, you’ll wake up famished and too hungry to cook anything.”
“Replicator.” Jim feels slight disgust through the bond. Spock doesn’t like the texture of replicated food. “Alright. We can order take-out?”
Jim feels Spock nod against his back then feels the rumble of his voice, “Napping this late in the evening may disrupt your sleep cycle.” There isn't any vitriol in his voice, so Jim knows Spock isn’t actually too concerned.
Jim hums and pats one of Spock’s hands that is resting on his stomach. “Eh. You’re always telling me I need more sleep, anyway.”
Spock doesn’t answer but untangles himself from Jim and pulls the covers over both of their bodies. Then he melts back into Jim’s warm body. They have to keep their house temperature at the higher end of Jim’s comfort zone and the lower end of Spock’s comfort zone. This means Jim usually doesn’t have too many clothes on and Spock is usually bundled up. They tend to cuddle to keep thermal homeostasis which pleases both of them.
“You typically come to bed shirtless,” Spock says into the back of Jim’s neck, slightly pulling Jim’s shirt up and running his fingers through the hair on his stomach. Jim had stopped removing his body hair once he was promoted to admiral (since he had no ship to walk around shirtless on, and once he was demoted back to captain, he felt he was too old to be walking around the ship shirtless).
Jim just mumbles unintelligibly in response. Spock brushes gentle kisses to the back of his neck and hairline and Jim sighs. Spock brings his forehead to rest on Jim’s shoulder and asks, “Am I correct to assume that you’re no longer angry at me?”
“I wasn’t angry with you!” Jim protests.
He can’t see Spock’s face at the moment, but he gets a rather strong impression that Spock just raised an eyebrow.
“Okay. Maybe I was a little angry. But I’m not anymore! You know it's hard for me to stay angry at you. Plus, I really like An’kar.” He gives the tribble a little pat. “Uh, wait I mean–”
“I had already suspected you were purposely mispronouncing her name.”
Jim leans his head back, attempting to look at Spock, and gives a dazzling smile when he just barely catches Spock’s eye. “How’d you guess?”
“Your pronunciation of Vulcan terms has been improving. Earlier, you pronounced ‘ka'athyra’ with near-perfect accuracy. I suspect you were mispronouncing ‘An’kar’ in an attempt to amuse or annoy me.”
“Hmm. Those sound like emotions,” Jim teases.
“I did not specify if you succeeded.”
“And did I?”
“No.” There’s no emotion in Spock’s voice, but Jim feels affection flowing from the bond and Spock pressing light kisses on Jim’s shoulder and neck.
“Mhm. Sure.” Jim pauses. “Do you wanna hear some more Vulcan I’ve been working on?” Spock gives a nod and continues peppering kisses on his husband’s neck. Jim clears his throat and attempts to enunciate the words he’s been working very hard to learn precisely, “Taluhk nash-veh k’dular.”
Spock gently bites down on the place he’d been kissing a few seconds earlier, earning a sharp “Spock!” from his bondmate. Spock replies, “I cherish thee as well, my husband.” He re-kisses the place he just bit and lowers his voice to a raspy tone, “Are you sure you would not like me to move An’kar to the office?”
Jim wiggles in Spock’s arms and further entangles his legs with Spock’s. “Mmmm. After nap. After dinner.”
“Very well. May we discuss one more subject before your slumber?”
Jim hugs An’kar close to his chest and sighs, “Mm. Sure. Can’t promise I won’t fall asleep, though.”
Spock informs Jim, “That is a double negative.” Jim doesn’t answer except a small “hmph” so Spock continues, “On the subject of our pet, I would also like to notify you that I have been feeding a feral cat in an attempt to domesticate her.”
“SPOCK!”