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Leonard knew that this was how it was going to end. He was prepared for it. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Still, even if he didn’t consider it betrayal, it stung. Literally and figuratively. As he stared down at the results of his blood test in one hand, he sent off a quick comm to Jim, letting him know it was over and that Chapel needed to run some tests on him. Ignoring the follow-up, Leonard made it clear that there was no room for discussion, and he knew Jim knew exactly why this was happening. There was no reply.
Looking back, when Jim tried to convince him a year and a half after Chris’s death that he’d changed and that he wanted Leonard to give him a chance, it felt like his world turned upside down. In a good way, for once. He’d always had a crush on Jim, ever since they roomed together at the academy, but Jim was unobtainable. Jim didn’t want to settle down; he wanted to be as free as the stars themselves. It was beautiful to watch, even if his feelings hurt a little every time Jim shared his exploits.
Leonard didn’t want a relationship at the time, but he was still wrapped up in his southern upbringing, putting such pressure on monogamy that he couldn’t do casual. The doctor side of him also preferred the safety of monogamy; knowing that your partner was fluid bonded opened up several sexual doors he liked to keep open. When Chris came along, wanting the same thing, it was a huge relief. When it turns out that they both wanted the occasional third, it became even better. While it took Chris a few years and a near-death experience to convince Leonard to marry him, better became perfect.
Reflecting on his relationship with Jim, Leonard never felt quite as good. Jim never stopped looking at other people, though he never wanted to make him—he looked, too, if he was being honest. Jim was tense whenever there was a diplomatic event where he had to schmooze. Leonard was fine with Jim’s schmoozing, especially knowing that Jim’d end up in his bed at the end of the night. If Jim wanted to bring a third back to their hotel for an evening of fun, he’d have agreed and helped look. But unlike his relationship with Chris, Jim was never open to talking about these things, and whenever Leonard brought it up, he just smiled and said, “I got you, Bones. Don’t need anyone else.”
Their breakup happened shortly before they were scheduled to leave Yorktown, and Leonard was determined to get back to normal by the time they set out to finish their five-year mission. It was hard. Jim tried a few excuses, but when Leonard gave him the choice of friends, colleagues, or a transfer, they settled into a holding pattern. Instead of Jim trying to win back his lover, it was Jim trying to win back his friend. And that suited Leonard nicely, though he did force Jim into a several-hour-long seminar about STDs and the importance of protection with anyone you aren’t fluid bonded to.
Leonard was tempted to have him sit through a seminar on consent but instead chose to make him feel tremendously guilty for giving his friend a rather painful STD.
By the time they were in the last six months of their mission, Leonard and Jim had gotten back to normal, but Leonard began noticing something different between Jim and Spock. Jim was giving their friend the eyes he used to give him. They were different from the looks Jim gave everyone else he was attracted to. Leonard knew that. As upset as Leonard was at Jim, he knew that he was special. He was different. And now Jim was starting to see Spock like that, too. Which would have been fine if Spock hadn’t also taken notice and started returning those looks.
Not wanting his best friends to do a dumb thing, Leonard first started with Jim. He cooked him a nice dinner in his quarters and waited for dessert before bringing it up. “I’ve seen you eyein’ Spock. Don’t.”
Jim tried to worm out of it, but Leonard threatened a hypo. “C’mon, Bones, I like him! We make a great team. We could be fantastic together!”
“Does Spock expect monogamy?” Leonard asked flatly.
“Well, of course, but I can do it this time, Bones.” Jim put his hand over his heart. “I swear that I will not hurt him.”
Leonard rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure those are the same words that you said to me.”
“Spock said we’re T'hy'la. I love you, Bones, but this is different. This is a bond, and I know I can do it.” Jim looked so earnest that Leonard almost believed him.
Still. “I want you to promise me that you will always be open and honest with Spock, and actively communicate with him. If you got an itch you need scratched, tell him. He might surprise you. I might have surprised you. Don’t be an ass and pull that ‘it’s better to ask for forgiveness than ask for permission’ bullshit.” Leonard got up and fetched the peach cobbler, setting Jim’s down in front of him with a gentle clink. “If you do the same thing to him, I won’t forgive you.”
Jim and Spock lasted for about as long as Jim and Leonard did. They were eight months into their second five-year mission, which launched after their year of mandatory shore leave, where Jim and Spock officially bonded on New Vulcan. Leonard was ecstatic to hear that Jim had turned it around and actually did right. But when Leonard was three drinks in at a diplomatic event and saw Spock's face turn sour, then drop as he looked around the room and didn’t see Jim, Leonard knew something went wrong.
Leonard rushed over to Spock, who was leaning slightly with his hand on his head. He gently righted his friend, hustled them toward the exit, and kept going until they got outside and away from the hotel. They stopped when they came across a bench in a small green space, and Leonard sat Spock down, kneeling in front of him. Spock looked pale, green in the gills, and stone-faced. “Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”
Spock didn’t answer, just continued staring out into nothing.
“I’m sorry, Spock. I thought he changed.” Leonard sat on the ground, cross-legged, and ran his fingers through his hair until it was no longer perfectly coiffed.
“He… had. Jim…” Spock sounded broken, and Leonard felt hopeless. “Jim was entirely truthful at our bonding ceremony. We would not have bonded otherwise. Neither the healer nor I would have allowed for it, I do not understand.”
“We don’t understand because we’re not built like Jim, Spock.” It took a while for Leonard to come to this realization himself, but Jim was truly built differently. It wasn’t a bad thing in and of itself; it was only bad that Jim refused to recognize it in himself. It’s OK to want partners outside of your relationship, but you have to communicate. “He’s like a star.”
Spock looked up at that, his eyes clearing slightly. “Elaborate, please.”
Leonard leaned back and propped himself on his elbows to look up at the perfectly postured Spock. “Larger than life, beautiful, hot as hell. Gives you life at the right distance but will burn you up if you get too close. I felt like Icarus when I tried with him. Got too close to the sun and—”
“Your wings melted,” Spock finished.
“I’m not makin’ excuses for him, he’s a right bastard for not being open with you, but I don’t think this will always be a part of him.” Leonard sighed and flopped all the way down to the ground, looking up at the stars above. “Don’t tell Jim, but I love the stars. I can’t help it. They just draw me in like a moth to a flame.”
There was a rustling, and then Spock laid down next to Leonard, which surprised the hell out of him. “I, too, am fond of the stars.”
“Well, you’re an astrophysicist, so that’s kind of in your job description.” Leonard chuckled, but it wasn’t as happy as it could have been.
Spock turned toward Leonard and lifted an eyebrow, his expression bordering on mischievous. A massive improvement from five minutes ago. “You are incorrect, though I can forward you my job description if you do not believe me.”
Leonard did laugh at that, heartily, and they both returned their gazes to the heavens. “So, what are you going to do now?” Leonard asked after the silence became too heavy.
Spock didn’t respond right away, and Leonard thought he’d overstepped, but as soon as he was about to offer his apologies, his Vulcan friend’s somber voice washed over them. “I will observe my favorite star from a safe distance.”
“The view’s pretty nice from where I’m sittin’ if you’d like to join me,” Leonard said casually.
“I would find that most agreeable, Leonard.”
The following year was torture for the three of them. Jim tried everything in his power to get Spock to forgive him, but Spock was just as resigned as Leonard was. It took them months to drill it into Jim’s head that they weren’t mad at him for being who he was; they were mad at him because he refused to be honest about who he was with himself. Leonard and Spock talked more often, sans Jim, and found they were on the same page regarding their star. It wasn’t Jim sleeping around that they couldn’t stand. It was his lack of upfront honesty.
Spock let the bond simmer down but was reluctant to let it die. It saved their asses on multiple occasions, including Leonard’s—who was either with Jim or Spock when shit hit the fan—more often than not. However, another metaphorical bond was growing, and Leonard wasn’t sure what to do about it. He knew he had a soft spot for Spock, has had a soft spot for god knows how long, but Spock was never available until now. Jim swooped in just as Spock was finally getting over the breakup with Uhura, and now? Well, Spock was single but not single.
Leonard was stewing over it in the mess when Jim came over and set his tray down. He wasn’t going to acknowledge Jim’s presence, but he noticed a severe lack of fruits and veggies on his tray, and he spoke up out of habit. “Would it kill ya to eat a goddamn vegetable that is not deep-fried and starchy?”
Jim grinned. “Considering how many vegetables I’m allergic to, the answer is yes.”
“Infant,” Leonard said with a groan. “Do you want something or are you here to shove your clogged arteries in my face?”
“Ah, yeah,” Jim’s face and eyes dropped and became serious. “I think you should date my husband.” Leonard was hung up on the term ‘husband,’ which was a title Jim didn’t deserve, and missed the rest of it. Jim snapped his fingers in front of his face when he didn’t respond. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Not really, too distracted by you using a term you don’t deserve, even if y’all never legally dissolved the marriage.” Leonard crossed his arms and leaned back, trying hard not to get upset and failing.
“I said you and Spock should date.”
Leonard’s brows shot to his forehead, and his arms went slack. “Did he say somethin’?”
Jim shook his head. “No, but I can feel it whenever we’re in a room together.”
“Why are you tellin’ me this?” Leonard asked, frowning.
“Because I love both of you and want you both to be happy.” Jim bit his lip and clenched his fists.
Leonard knew that look, so he probed, “ And? ”
“Well, you both said that you’d be open to a third if I’d just asked…” Jim was quiet, and not because they were in a public place.
“We shouldn’t be talking about this here, and we certainly shouldn’t be talking about it without Spock.” Leonard stood up abruptly, dumped his tray and the rest of his food into the recycler, and hightailed it outta there.
At the end of their shift, Jim pulled Spock and Leonard into a conference room and sat them down with an honest to god presentation, complete with tea and snacks. He carefully laid out how Leonard and Spock were perfect for each other, how complementary their skills and personalities were, and how they were already close. Even pulled some choice quotes from Leonard and Spock that were said in confidence. Little shit.
Leonard, who was exceptionally on board with this part, looked over at Spock tentatively and tried to gauge him. Spock was relaxed, engaged, and contemplative. However, he shook his head. “I made a commitment to you, regardless of whether you return the same level of commitment.”
Jim scoffed. “I know you like Bones. The only thing holding you back is our vows.”
“That’s not fair, Jim,” Leonard said. He was about to say more when Spock held out his hand to stop him.
“Vulcans do not lie, and we do not go back on our promises.” Spock was firm, much to Leonard’s disappointment.
“Then let’s rewrite our vows. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to be with you. I just can’t be with you in the way that Bones can.” Jim moved the presentation a few slides ahead, which laid out his ultimate goal: a triad. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be with Bones… And other people. I’m sorry to both of you, I really tried. Honest.”
For once, Jim was entirely honest, openly communicating, and Leonard felt a twinge of pride at how he was finally, finally understanding what they wanted all along. And it wasn’t exactly a bad plan, he was open to it, but he didn’t know if Spock would be comfortable with it. Hell, Leonard still wasn’t sure if Spock even liked him.
“I remain unconvinced that Leonard has either sexual or romantic feelings toward me,” Spock said after a long pause for contemplation.
Leonard swiveled his chair around and leveled with him. “I was plannin’ on askin’ ya to be my plus one to that big medical conference two years ago. Working up the nerve, trying to find the best way to ask it so that I clearly communicated my interest but also communicated that I wanted you to come with me, even if you didn’t want it to be a date.” He jerked his head and thumb toward Jim. “Then this asshole swooped in an’ swept you off your feet.”
Spock shared a look at Jim that Leonard couldn’t decipher, but whatever it was it made Jim flinch. When Spock’s gaze returned to him, he let out a sigh and locked eyes with Leonard. “My apologies. When Jim first approached me about initiating a relationship, I informed him that I had romantic feelings toward a certain doctor. He assured me that that doctor was uninterested.”
“Hey Jim, your next physical is gonna kill ya.” Leonard breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to calm down. He counted his breaths, counted objects in the room, centered his mind, and still wanted to kill Jim. “To… Be… Fair. Jim didn’t know.” Leonard crossed his arms and spun his chair back toward Jim. “You make it really hard to be your friend, Jim.”
Jim’s face dropped, looking like a kicked puppy. “I know,” he choked out. “I just… I didn’t want to lose both of you. I really mean it when I say I love both of you. I mean it in the romantic and the platonic sense.”
Leonard sighed, “I know, but you can’t keep goin’ on like this.”
Spock verbalized his agreement.
“What do you think I’m trying to do now?!” Jim asked as he gestured toward the presentation screen. “I’m trying to do the right thing! We stay together, everyone gets what they need, everyone is happy.”
Leonard grunted and moved his hands to rub up and down the armrests of his chair. “How do we know you won’t find another way to hurt us?”
“Spock and I will still be bonded.” Jim looked hesitantly over to Spock, who nodded. “I want to make this work. I really do.”
“You will agree to inform us when we should not be expecting you to join us?” Spock asked, his voice firm. It was more of an order than a question. The uptick at the end, indicating a question, felt like an afterthought.
Jim nodded frantically. “Of course, I’ll let you know so you can put your shields up, so you don’t have to feel anything.”
“That is… Not entirely necessary.” Spock’s cheeks blushed a beautiful bronze color. “Should your partner be willing, sharing the experience through the bond could be quite pleasurable.”
Leonard was blushing now, too. That… That actually sounded pretty hot. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and cleared his throat. “Any activities involving the exchange of fluids with either Spock or myself will require an STD test.”
“Absolutely. I’m still really sorry about that,” Jim said quietly. Spock looked between Leonard and Jim, and it was Jim who filled him in since Leonard couldn’t. “When I cheated on Bones, I got an STD and, well…”
“He decided to share it,” Leonard finished. “Luckily, it wasn’t a bad one.” Jim winced and grabbed his head, and Leonard looked over at Spock, lifting an eyebrow. “Can you mentally punch him when he’s being an ass?”
“I apologize. I did not intend to project those feelings, Jim.” Spock didn’t sound sorry, and when he looked at Leonard, Leonard knew he wasn’t sorry. “While I do not condone violence, the bond can send intense waves of emotion that can result in physical pain. Or pleasure. Or any number of emotions.”
Leonard swallowed hard and looked between Spock and Jim. “Are we doing this?”
Spock shrugged. “It allows us to observe our star from a safe distance, together. I would appreciate your company.”
Jim looked puzzled by the commentary but didn’t say anything, just looked hopeful. His bright blue eyes were shining and impossible to resist.
“Guess it does.” Leonard rubbed his chin in thought. He wanted Spock, he never stopped wanting him, and he never stopped wanting what part of Jim he could have. Leonard had to admit this proposal of sorts did solve all of his issues with dating Jim. Spock would give him the security and stability he was always missing with Jim, and he liked Spock a great deal. But he wasn’t going into this halfway. “I ain’t doin’ this unless it’s permanent.”
Jim smiled and looked at Spock. Leonard could tell they were sending some sort of communication through the bond because Jim looked strained, and Spock’s face kept twitching ever so slightly like he did when they were communicating verbally. After about a minute of debate, which Leonard was not thrilled to be excluded from, Spock slowly lifted an eyebrow and gave a final nod. “I see.”
“You see what?” Leonard asked, impatient.
“We will discuss this at a later date. However, Jim and I accept your terms of our union being permanent.” Spock paused, swallowed, then took a drink of his tea. Leonard had forgotten the tea was even there. “Do you wish to join us in the bond?”
Leonard stopped breathing, momentarily frozen in place. He didn’t even consider that that was a possibility, let alone consider joining at all. He sank back into his chair and brought one foot up, holding his lifted knee twisting the chair back and forth with his foot on the ground. Leonard thumbed his lips with one hand and drummed on his knee with the other. Did he want to join the bond?
Jim interrupted his thoughts. “You’re so fucking cute when you do your weird sitting, Bones.”
Leonard blushed and moved to put his foot down when Spock placed his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Though perhaps more colorful than I would express them, I agree with Jim’s sentiments.”
“Do you, uh, do you both want me in the bond?” Jim and Spock both nodded. “What about that ta-hee-something bond y’all have?” Jim and Spock had another conversation without him, and he rolled his eyes. “Stop doing that. I’m right here!”
“It is not impossible for there to be multiple t’hy’la bonds. Given the nature of our friendship and the situations we have been through together—”
Jim interrupted. “Sarek thought you were his t’hy’la, and even I could tell he was disappointed when he found out it was me and not you that Spock was going to bond with.”
“...’scuze me?” Leonard lifted a skeptical eyebrow Spock’s way. “I know your daddy likes me, but not ‘please marry my son’ likes me.”
The corners of Spock’s lips turned upward for a second. “As he has seen your mind and mine and found us compatible, he has been a strong advocate on your behalf. Additionally, he feels you are better suited to raise children with me than Jim is.”
“I fully agree with that statement,” Jim added.
Leonard pulled his knee even closer and rested his chin on it. Knowing that Sarek shipped the two of them was a shock, though he always knew that he had the man’s utmost respect after the Battle of Vulcan. He’d also be lying if he hadn’t imagined him and Spock with a gaggle of mini-Spocks with southern accents. The thought made him smile, and Jim caught it. “So that’s a yes, right, Bones?”
“On one condition,” Leonard said after a minute more of thought. “OK, maybe two.”
“Name it,” Jim said at the same time Spock said, “Anything.”
Leonard took his foot off the chair and leaned forward, jerking an angry finger at Jim. “YOU will go to the therapist and work out why you can’t be honest with your shit, and I wouldn’t mind doin’ couples therapy with the three of us in between those meetings.” Jim squirmed but ultimately agreed, so Leonard turned to Spock, who was pin-straight and looking nervous. Leonard’s grin spread slowly as he leaned forward, giving Spock’s knee a poke with his finger. “And you.”
“Yes, Leonard?”
“We go on a date, right now, without Jim.” Leonard stood up and offered his hand, which Spock took readily. Although their hands dropped at the door, they held them as they crossed the room while ignoring Jim’s childish protests.
The first date went off without a hitch, as long as you didn’t count Jim whining a hitch. They didn’t have sex since neither of them was comfortable with that before Jim and Spock worked out their vows and new consent forms. Once that was sorted, Leonard and Spock started sleeping together. Mostly with just each other, but Jim occasionally joined. The bonding talk died down for a few months while they were bombarded with several back-to-back challenges on missions. However, once they hit a patch of smooth sailing, it came back in full force. Especially when Spock felt the first symptoms of Pon Farr, and they hightailed it back to New Vulcan.
Sarek was so goddamn pleased with the turn of events that he smiled. Well, his lips curved about as much as the Mona Lisa, which was a beaming smile by Vulcan standards. Leonard was evaluated by the healer, who commented on the healthy and strong t’hy’la bond already formed between them, and the ceremony was performed later that evening. While the three of them weren’t bonded to each other just yet—Spock wanted to make sure that Leonard could handle a single bond first—Spock was able to act as a conduit when they were near each other. Which, considering what Pon Farr was all about, they got to experience for a whole week.
Jim ‘graduated’ from therapy a year after Leonard and Spock bonded, and as a celebration, they went back to New Vulcan to connect Leonard and Jim’s minds. That’s also where they learned that Jim did not sleep with anyone besides them while going to therapy. He’d confessed the reasons why he was so bad at being honest, how it came down to the fact that no one he loved ever stayed with him, so it was hard for him to stay. Jim also confessed that that part of him wouldn’t change, but they worked out ways to circumnavigate this without breaking anyone’s trust.
It was put to the test on their first major shore leave after their triad bonding. Leonard and Spock sat back and allowed Jim to do his thing, hopefully, the correct way, and properly shielded themselves so that they wouldn’t influence him one way or another. It went well; Jim introduced them to his partner of the evening, they went and did their thing, and the woman he was with allowed them to eavesdrop through the bond. Leonard thoroughly enjoyed that part, especially since Spock lost more control than usual and dragged him somewhere private for a thorough ravishing.
While Leonard and Spock never sought partners outside of each other and Jim, they found themselves wingmanning for their husband over the next few shore leaves. Instead of Jim falling into bed with the nearest pretty face, Leonard or Spock would find him a good match in both looks and personality while the other distracted Jim. He caught on, of course, but didn’t mind. Jim actually appreciated the effort and found his shore leave tumbles to be even more enjoyable because his partners knew how to pick ‘em.
They followed this pattern, being a closed triad on the ship and an open triad on shore leave, until Carol Marcus returned to the Enterprise. There was something different about her that both Leonard and Spock felt through the bond. Jim’s thinking started changing, his side of the bond became more closed off, and he was defensive whenever they brought it up. Leonard had to ask Spock for help putting up his shields because he was terrified that Jim would fall back into old patterns of lying and hiding, and he didn’t want Jim to know he doubted him. Neither one cared how Jim felt about Carol. They just didn’t want to be lied to.
Jim semi-fucked up because, of course, he did. Instead of talking with them before engaging in something, he just commed Spock and Leonard with a single statement: // I’m going to do it. // He also shut off his side of the bond, which left Leonard reeling, which Spock had to take care of. Thankfully they were all off-duty, but the immediate shut down of one side of the bond wasn’t healthy for any of them, and Jim knew that. Leonard learned the hard way when he shut down his side after a brutal day in sickbay and had to treat Jim for migraines and Spock for nausea. Jim knew. Jim knew.
Leonard and Spock removed themselves from the captain’s quarters and retreated to their adjacent quarters, locking both of their doors with a medical override that not even Jim could get through. Spock put on his comfiest plush robe, the one Leonard got him for his birthday, and Leonard threw on a pair of flannel PJ pants and a worn Ole Miss tee. They snuggled up on Spock’s bed and tried to will away their headaches without success. They both knew they had to decide how to deal with Jim, but neither wanted to broach the subject.
And when Jim didn’t even attempt to hack into either of their quarters, they knew it was over.
Both Leonard and Spock had been approached by Starfleet about leading the new hospital ship, the Hope. Spock would be promoted to captain, Leonard would be promoted to commander and given the CMO posting. They were hesitant to sign on because Jim would be staying with the Enterprise, and Jim said that he wanted to do what aligned best with their goals. At the time, Jim promised to maintain their open communication even if their agreements had to change a bit due to distance. Now it just looked like he wanted them to choose the Hope so he could be rid of them.
A small nagging voice told Leonard that this was probably another one of Jim’s broken defense mechanisms. Abruptly sleeping with Carol was a way to break them up on his terms, rather than a slow breakup from transferring to the Hope. Spock latched onto that thought as soon as it came into his mind and amplified it, agreeing with it. It didn’t excuse what Jim did, but it explained it. Or at least it tempered their anger toward him. Leonard decided to offer the olive branch and send a comm: // Is this about the Hope? //
The bond pulsed with a brief hint of Jim, but then it was gone. // You should transfer. //
Leonard cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose, handing the comm over to Spock so he could see. It was entirely about the Hope. “He’s such a goddamn infant,” he muttered as he took back his comm and responded with the ever mature // Chicken shit. // Leonard tossed the comm away, but Spock fetched it and set it on the nightstand. He used Spock’s change in position to weasel his way into the fluffy robe. Spock’s cool skin was heaven on his, especially in Spock’s quarters.
Spock huffed and pushed Leonard away to open his robe and allow Leonard full access, which he greedily accepted. He snuggled his face right into Spock’s furry chest and crawled on top of him. Spock was so good to him. So good to them. Jim was an idiot, but he was their idiot, and they did sign up for ‘for better or for worse.’ Leonard just wished ‘worse’ didn’t have to make him feel so shitty and small.
“What will be, will be, Leonard,” Spock said as he ran his long fingers through Leonard’s mussed-up hair. “We cannot control Jim’s decisions, though we have one of our own to make.”
Leonard groaned and rolled over, taking Spock’s hand and covering his face with it. Not that it made anything go away, but he could pretend. “I don’t want to leave Jim, but the Hope’s my baby. I proposed it shortly after the Battle of Vulcan, and Boyce took a shine to it and rushed it up the chain. I didn’t do the tech specs, but the logistics of it… That’s my ship, Spock.”
Spock wiggled his hand out of Leonard’s grip and ran his finger from Leonard’s forehead to the tip of his nose, across his lips, and to his chin. “I believe, as its captain, the Hope would be my ship.”
“Like hell, the CMO of a floating hospital is in charge. You’ll just drive it around.” The bond from Spock vibrated with laughter and warmth at Leonard’s massive and purposeful oversimplification. “It just sucks that we’re both leaving Jim. We’re unintentionally doing what he’s always feared.”
Spock continued running his fingers across Leonard’s face, teasing at his psi points, as he sent soothing waves of comfort through the bond. “Jim will be given the opportunity to advance to admiral at the end of this mission. The Hope will have at least one admiral on board at all times due to a certain doctor’s penchant for violating the prime directive.” Leonard snorted. “We need not be separated at all.”
Leonard and Spock knew it was the most logical choice for Jim, but not the choice Jim would make. Jim enjoyed being a cowboy on the Enterprise. He never wanted to leave her. Though he never said it in so many words, Jim would rather die on the Enterprise than leave. Sure, he had that brief existential crisis before Altamid, but after that? Jim no longer questioned that he belonged on the frontlines of exploration. Leonard, however, questioned it a lot and was more than happy to hear that the Hope was nearing completion.
“You know he’s not gonna go for it,” Leonard said with a sigh. “He’d rather make it our decision to leave him than his decision to let us go. Goddamn child.”
Spock didn’t argue, he couldn’t argue, they both agreed that that was Jim’s logic. The next day when they calmly confronted him about it, he didn’t deny it. He didn’t apologize, either, which sent Leonard out of the room in a flurry of curses. Leonard didn’t know what Spock and Jim talked about, but when Spock returned to his quarters that evening, Jim did not join them. Jim didn’t join them the next night, either. They maintained professional cordiality when working, but Jim effectively removed himself from their triad despite Leonard and Spock trying to get through to him.
Leonard and Spock chose to transfer early instead of finishing their last year aboard the Enterprise. They made it clear to Jim that they hoped he’d take the promotion and return to them, or at the very least visit. Jim gave them both a pat on the shoulder and a nod. No hug. No kiss. The finality of his goodbye hit Leonard hard and made Spock consider taking a detour to New Vulcan to dissolve the bond. Ultimately they chose not to, deciding they’d give Jim another year to come to his senses.
That year came and went, the Hope set sail on its maiden voyage without Jim, but they did have a companion: their surrogate, T’shon. She was tall, gorgeous, and shrewd. She gave Spock a run for his money on smarts, and Leonard adored her. (She, unfortunately, did not return the feeling.) Since Vulcan was attempting to rebuild its population, there was significant pressure on every one of childbearing age to do something. Spock was denied the ability to donate sperm, politely but firmly, as were other Vulcans with less than desirable genes. Leonard thought of it as eugenics; Spock thought of it as logical.
Still, they were more than welcome to adopt, and that was perfectly fine by Leonard. He wanted ten little Spocks, even if they weren’t genetically related to either of them. Spock didn’t want as many, but he appreciated Leonard’s enthusiasm. Toward the end of T’shon’s pregnancy, Sarek joined them with his new bondmate and toddler in tow. He would help them establish the parental bond and coach Leonard through the process as he did with Amanda. While Spock could link to their unborn child through T’shon, Leonard couldn’t yet, and it weighed on him. Having Sarek there really helped him keep his head on straight.
Another thing that weighed on Leonard was that they were doing this without Jim. He was the first to hear about the pregnancy, he was sent pictures and updates, and Jim occasionally responded but always kept them at a distance. Their bond was barely a thread of connection now, and Leonard—who fully admitted he suffered from sympathetic pregnancies—was tied up in knots over it. Jim should be with them, emotionally if not physically. So Leonard sent out one final (but is it ever really final?) request for Jim to be there for the birth.
While Jim wasn’t there for the birth, he did visit shortly after. Leonard took a month off to look after little Ta’an, and he was absolutely smitten. He was tired as all hell, getting used to the parental bond and the constant emotional connection to an infant, but he loved it. Leonard was in the middle of feeding his new favorite Vulcan in their quarters when he heard a knock on the door. Thanking the powers at be for voice-controlled doors, he told the computer to open up, and there stood Jim.
Leonard stared, confused, then turned to Ta’an, who looked at Jim. “So you see ‘im, too, buddy?”
“I’m… I’m here, Bones,” Jim said so quietly that Leonard barely heard it over the influx of confused emotions from Ta’an. “Bones?”
“Yeah, uh, come in? Sorry.” Leonard looked around for the bassinet as if it grew legs and wandered between uses. Finally remembering where it was, he set the Ta’an down. He rubbed his temples with one hand while he soothed Ta’an’s ears with the other. “Vulcan kids have a lot of feelings. They don’t cry, but they’re in your head 24/7.”
“You grew a beard,” Jim commented idly. He was still hovering in the door, and Leonard waved toward the couch.
Leonard tried thinking of a good, benign volley to return with, and after a second he tossed out, “You grew a gut.” His grin didn’t meet his eyes.
“Yeah, well, my new CMO didn’t get on my ass like you did.” Jim sat down on the armchair that was always meant to be his. Spock’s was more ornate and Jim’s was a wonderful mix of old and new design. Leonard preferred to lounge on the couch. “Of course, it helped that you were getting on my ass literally.”
Leonard laughed, and the baby responded through the bond, forcing him to return to Ta’an. “How… much do you want to be here, Jim?” He didn’t know how to phrase it but hoped Jim could pick it apart and give him some kind of worthwhile answer. He was perceptive when he wanted to be.
“Why do you two still want me as a friend? Let alone a… a…” Jim waved at the baby. “A husband? A father??”
“Because we love you.” Leonard shrugged and picked up Ta’an, pressing the baby’s forehead to his cheek for skin contact. “And we know there’s something… I know there’s something very—and please don’t take this the wrong way—there’s something broken inside ya, kid. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know how to fix it, I don’t know if it can be fixed, but I know you enough to separate that from you, the Jim that I—and Spock—love very much.”
Jim looked at his hands and hung his head. “I’ve been in therapy since, you know, everything went down.”
Leonard bounced Ta’an as he walked back over to give Jim’s shoulder a squeeze. “Proud of you. How’s that goin’?”
“It took three different therapists, but they got it out of me.” Jim sighed and sank his face into his hands. “I don’t think what’s broken can be fixed, Bones.”
“Doesn’t need to be.” Leonard moved his hand to ruffle Jim’s hair. “We’ll just figure out where your sharp edges are and work around ‘em.” He tried not to get hopeful, but it was so damn hard, and Ta’an reaching their chubby arm toward Jim and making grabby hands didn’t help.
“Why are you so good to me, Bones? I don’t deserve it.” Jim sounded just as broken as Leonard felt.
“Because we don’t judge you based on your lowest points.” Leonard carefully brought Ta’an down so they could see Jim properly. “Do you want to meet Ta’an? They really want to know who’s stirrin’ up the family bond.”
Jim tentatively placed his finger in Ta’an’s tiny hand and shook it. “Is… Is Ta’an who I’ve been feeling?”
“That or my stress.” Leonard shrugged and passed Ta’an off whether Jim liked it or not. He stood up, stretched, groaned, twisted, cracked, popped, everything. “While I don’t have to worry much about diapers, Ta’an has a constant link in my brain telling me their every need and by god is it a lot. If Jo wanted half these things, I must’ve been a terrible parent to her.”
“You were perfect because you were there, and you cared, Bones.” Jim stared down at Ta’an, and Ta’an stared back. “They’re beautiful. You and Spock did well.”
Leonard laughed, “T’shon and her bondmate are gorgeous. Not that I wouldn’t have been in love with Ta’an if they came out looking like a wrinkled conehead like a lot of newborns, but you’re right. They’re beautiful. I’m so happy.” Leonard ran a finger along Ta’an’s ear, and the bond tingled with delight. “Ta’an likes you.”
“I don’t deserve it.”
“It ain’t about what you deserve, Jim. It is what it is.” Leonard shrugged and flopped on the couch, stretching out and kicking off his slippers. “Do you want to talk about therapy?”
Jim cleared his throat, and his voice sounded wet, like he was holding back tears. “When is Spock off shift?”
“Not soon enough. The admiral we got is riding us hard, and he’s already pissed that I’m off for a month.” Leonard scratched his chin and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Or a minute. Whatever. Time worked differently when you had infants. “Do you just want to lay down togeth—errrr?”
Jim laughed from the floor. He was holding Ta’an, and Leonard’s arm was draped over him so that Ta’an could make skin contact. Spock was in his armchair, smiling his not-smile. The bond was alive with love, amusement, and contentment. “You fell asleep the second you closed your eyes. I, uhh, have experience with babies, so…”
Leonard swallowed hard. So the rumors were true. Carol’s baby was Jim’s. Still, that didn’t matter. Jim was here now. Jim was talking. “That so, eh? How does a Vulcan baby compare?”
“Unnervingly quiet.” Jim lifted Ta’an up and maneuvered them onto Leonard’s chest. “Right up until you make skin contact, then it’s like they’re right there in your head with you.”
“Yeah, they do that.” Leonard yawned, and Ta’an stuck their hand right in his mouth. He pulled it out gently and wiped it on his shirt. “Curious about everything, too. And way more mobile than human newborns.”
Spock was enjoying the exchange. “I believe you said that you wished to have ten of them, Leonard.”
Leonard shot a playful glare in Spock’s direction and snuggled Ta’an close. “Just for that comment, I want eleven now.”
“I’m ready to talk if you want to hear it. I won’t make any excuses for my behavior. I’ll just tell you what… caused me to be like this.” Jim squeezed Leonard on the shoulder and moved to his armchair. “The therapist said me being polyam was likely there all along, but the avoidance and the lying… That has reasons.”
“If you are telling us for our benefit, I assure you that it is unnecessary,” Spock said. “However, if you feel you will benefit from the act of sharing, I encourage it.”
“Switch all those ‘I’s to ‘we’s,” Leonard added.
Jim went on with it. Explained the abandonment he felt as a child, the abuse he was subjected to, the fact that he was abused, raped, and left for dead on Tarsus. For every secret Jim shared with them, his side of the bond opened more. Once he got to adulthood, he spent considerable time on how Chris actively forbade him from trying anything with Leonard, whether Chris was dead or alive. Leonard told him in no uncertain terms that Chris would’ve been in the doghouse if he’d known about it.
Chris’s lack of faith in Jim proved to be a catalyst for a lot of what happened. Jim looked up to Chris like the father he never had, and knowing that he never had faith in him to be good enough for Leonard hit at both his insecurities and his need to prove himself. The next catalyst was Jim actually having feelings for Carol. Emotional feelings, not just sexual. They’d never discussed the possibility of Jim falling in love with anyone outside of their triad, and he felt guilty. Adding the impending Hope transfer to the mix just exacerbated the whole thing.
Leonard admitted that he was uncomfortable with the idea of Jim falling in love with someone outside of their group, but he also said he wouldn’t have been angry about it. Spock didn’t like it at all but assured Jim that neither of them had the right to tell him who he could love. Jim accepted their feelings and confessed that Carol never loved him. Their relationship was a toxic combination of unbridled lust and enormous guilt for the Khan incident, bound to burn out as quickly as it started. And it did, but Jim was happy to have gotten David out of it.
By the end, Spock and Jim had joined Leonard on the couch. Spock held Leonard’s legs, massaging his feet—Ta’an liked to be bounced around for most of the day, those puppies were screaming for a break—while Jim had his head in his lap, massaging his scalp. “I could get used to this.”
“The promotion is on the table, and I heard that the admiral they have with you two isn’t doing that great of a job.” Jim tapped Leonard right in the middle of the forehead. “Can I… Can I come back?”
Leonard smiled from ear to ear, and Spock also allowed himself a smile. The bond thrummed from all four of them, and Ta’an cooed their agreement. “Yeah, of course. Welcome home, Jim.”