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When Spock was a young Vulcan, he occasionally spoke words that made his father look very grave and caused his mother to hide a smile behind her hand.

When his peers at school baited him with taunts about being human, he told them that they smelled similar to le-matyas covered in the rotting entrails of dead aylakim. His father later required him to amend his assessment, but disliked Spock's modified announcement that his classmates merely smelled as if they had a strong aversion to bathing.

When his mother's aunt visited their family on Vulcan during Spock's fourth year, Spock pronounced the lasagna she cooked "grossly unpalatable" and of "dubious nutritional value." His father frowned from his seat while his mother made several odd choking sounds and had to leave the table briefly. Aunt Audrey departed two days ahead of her scheduled shuttle trip.

And on the occasion when a visiting ambassador proposed to teach Spock advanced mathematical theorems and displayed a problem of his own devising, Spock immediately pointed out his many errors with a rapidity that made the diplomat go pale.

As a result of these incidents, his father soon determined that Spock should spend a series of his meditation sessions focusing on the theme of speaking rationally.

Spock's careful attention to the matter indeed garnered positive results for later in his life. Except in cases of extreme duress (or in private moments alone with his husband -- during which some degree of spontaneous speech was not only permissible but fervently encouraged), he internally noted his highly developed ability to abstain from making unnecessary or nonsensical interjections.

But when Hikaru Sulu came to visit Spock and Jim at the small house they had recently purchased, and presented to them an air-hole equipped box that emitted a yelping noise, Spock said quickly and loudly, without stopping to consider the consequences, "No."

"Now, you don't have to keep him," Sulu said in a placating voice. He set the box down on the floor and took off its lid to show them the contents -- viz: a young canine of the variety they had chanced upon on Alfa 177 years before.

"I've already talked to the breeder," Sulu went on to say, "and she promised me she'll take him back if you don't want the responsibility."

Spock looked to Jim at once so that they might mutually and silently agree to hold Sulu to his word.

But instead of looking back at Spock as he customarily would, Jim rested his gaze on the juvenile dog with an odd expression. It seemed almost as though he were trying to contain a smile.

"When you said you were bringing us a house present, I didn't think it would be one that required training pads and regular walks," Jim said genially. He regarded the animal as he took a step closer. "I had heard dog breeders had begun to make available these -- what do they call them now? Unicorn dogs?"

As if cognizant of its relatively recent designation, the small dog attempted to romp about in the narrow confines of his box. In his antics, he ended up chasing his own tail briefly before he flopped onto his side in confusion.

His smile now clearly evident, Jim went down on one knee and let the dog smell his hand, which it did with keen interest, and briefly stroked his silky coat. When, however, he reached out to touch the horn atop the pup's head, it made a plaintive noise and backed away timidly. Jim chuckled to himself and drew his hand back.

Sulu grinned at the sight. "That's certainly the popular name these days."

"I doubt that 'unicorn dog' is its appropriate scientific designation," Spock noted.

"Seems like lately everyone's talking about how sweet-tempered unicorn dogs are, what terrific companions they make," Sulu went on, paying no heed to Spock's comment. "And I remembered how you'd seemed so fond of the one on Alfa 177, Jim -- before all of that business with the too cold temperatures and not nearly enough hot coffee, of course," he added with a laugh.

"Though indeed we encountered a similar specimen in the past, I fail to see why you thought we would appreciate a very young domesticated animal in our new home," Spock said stiffly.

"Ah. Well." Sulu cleared his throat. "I thought since the two of you are partially retired now, you might appreciate having a pet -- to give you an excuse to keep active."

"Oh, we keep plenty active," Jim said absently, watching the canine as it rapidly scraped its paws against the side of the box in a futile attempt to dig.

"I'm sure you do," Sulu said with a hint of mischief.

For some reason, Spock felt compelled to flush. He controlled the functions that would have enabled the vasodilation to fan across his face, but just barely.

Meanwhile, Jim reached out again. Though he signaled his intentions to set the animal at ease, the canine trembled a little. But when Jim scratched him lightly behind his ears, the dog pushed his head closer as if requesting more caresses.

Jim laughed aloud. "He is a little charmer, isn't he? I can see why the breed is so popular."

The dog yipped as if in agreement, and stood on its hind legs to get closer to Jim.

"Well, then maybe you'll want to keep him overnight, so you can think about it," Sulu suggested.

"Jim?" Spock asked patiently when Jim made no reply.

Instead of replying to Spock, however, Jim lifted the pup from the box and beamed at his restive squirming. "Oh, would you look at that?"

"Jim," Spock said, a note of warning creeping into his voice.

"They're actually in quite high demand lately," Sulu said helplessly as he looked back and forth to Jim now shaking his head fondly at the dog and Spock staring at the pair askance. "That's why when I heard about a litter of pups available, I jumped at the chance to get you one -- though of course now I see that I should have asked first," Sulu added rather hastily when Spock regarded him with a stern look.

Meanwhile, Jim had hunkered down completely with his legs crossed, and had settled the dog atop his lap. The dog turned himself around several times, sniffing and snorting as he clambered over Jim. Finally he laid down with a quiet whoof!, his muzzle resting atop Jim's thigh. His expressive eyes flickered to each of them in turn briefly before they began to close in sleep.

Spock gazed at Jim on the floor, cuddling this strange animal. He forcibly refrained from pointing out that when Jim decided he wished to stand erect, Spock would be obliged to assist him by taking his arm. Further, he would later have to listen to Jim's exclamations about how he ought not to have assumed such an arrangement of his limbs in the first place, because, "What was I thinking, trying to sit on the floor like I'm still a kid?"

"Jim," Spock said again sharply.

"Hmm?" Jim looked up, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I'm sorry Spock; I missed what you were saying."

"I was just suggesting to Spock that maybe you'd like to keep the dog overnight while you think over whether you'd like to adopt him," Sulu reiterated. "I've brought along a bag of food, a few bowls, and some other items, so you wouldn't need to go out of your way."

"Well. I suppose it is on the late side," Jim allowed. He took care to avoid the animal's thin antennae as he kept petting the animal gently.

Spock glanced out the window, where the afternoon sun still warmed their area.

"We could hardly ask you to take him all the way back to the breeder's tonight," Jim said. "Besides, the little pup's probably so tuckered out, it's probably better for him to sleep here for now."

The dog wheezed as he continued to slumber on Jim's person.

"We will not keep this so-called 'unicorn dog' ultimately," Spock told Sulu.

"Whatever you decide," Sulu quickly replied. But instead of meeting Spock's eye, he smiled down as Jim patted the pup's plump haunches.

"We will not keep the animal," Spock told Jim again that night when he joined him in their bed.

"Of course, of course," Jim said quickly. He shrugged as he lounged against the headboard and put down his book. "I won't press you if you don't want a dog."

Spock narrowed his eyes and regarded Jim closely. But Jim's expression seemed perfectly sincere as he took off the glasses perched on his nose and rubbed his eyes. It would seem the evening following Sulu's departure had proved somewhat draining for them both.

After feeding the Alfa 177 canine, and spending a substantial amount of time waiting for him to urinate outside in their small yard, they had settled the pup for the night in a cardboard box in the kitchen. Upon being placed in his confinement, the dog had whined in a grating fashion and scrabbled urgently at the sides of the box. But when Jim petted him soothingly, he gradually desisted.

By the hour of night they typically retired, the animal had begun to cuddle with the soft blanket that Jim had provided for him (which Jim had summarily taken from their linen closet without consulting Spock).

Jim had also added an antique wind-up clock to the box, which he claimed would remind the young animal of his mother's heartbeat. Though Spock doubted the similarity of the two sounds, as well as the efficacy of such a measure, he could not dispute that the small dog's eyelids had become very heavy as he curled up as close to the clock as possible.

Now Jim stretched, wriggling his toes underneath the bedcovers. "Besides, once Sulu returns the puppy to the breeder, they'll find him another home right away, one where he's very much wanted."

Spock paused, noting the wistful quality that had crept into Jim's voice. But when Jim spoke no further, Spock replied, "Indubitably."

"Then it's settled," Jim said. He reached out and turned out the lamp on his nightstand. "We'll bring him back first thing in the morning."

"I am in agreement," Spock replied. He slipped beneath the bedclothes and assumed his typical position of repose on his back.

Jim yawned and slid down to relax under the covers. "Night, Spock," he murmured, smiling tiredly. He threw an arm over Spock's torso as was his custom, and closed his eyes.

Instead of falling asleep immediately as Jim did, Spock laid awake for fifty-four minutes. Jim's steady breathing was a familiar and welcome nighttime noise, but a new auditory element distracted Spock: the muffled sounds of the creature in their kitchen, snuffling as it dozed.

The next morning, Spock awoke to find Jim's half of the bed empty, the sheets cool to the touch, and a strange high-pitched hum coming from downstairs.

As he descended to the main floor, he realized the din resulted from two separate noises: whining from the animal Sulu had foisted upon them, and crooning from Jim as he endeavored to calm the dog.

"There you are, you're all right," Jim comforted the dog in his low, pleasant voice just as Spock entered the kitchen. He had already crouched down to caress it.

The canine stood on its hind legs, placing its paws on Jim's thigh, a beseeching look on its face.

"I just went to the other room for a moment, but now I'm back, see?"

When the pup cocked its head to the side in puzzled inquiry, Jim laughed.

"I believe we agreed we would return this canine 'first thing' in the morning," Spock commented.

Jim blinked up at him, surprised. Obviously he had not heard Spock enter. "Oh. Well, yes. Of course we will. Right after breakfast. Just --" He laughed again as the dog nipped at his hand, and gently but deftly caught the dog's muzzle for a second. "No," he said in a firm but kind voice.

Apparently this was a signal the dog understood, for immediately it stopped its playful little bites and licked Jim's hand.

"I confess I am surprised you did not already complete that task, considering that you woke early," Spock observed.

"I almost thought I would. But then when I came downstairs, he got a little upset because he had no idea where he was."

"How is it you know this particular concern to be paramount in the dog's thoughts?" Spock asked.

"Oh, when I walked in the kitchen, he startled and whined, the most pitiful sound you ever heard, poor little thing," Jim explained, his hazel eyes sympathetic and trained entirely on the dog. It had sat back on its fat haunches and continued to gaze up at Jim. "He's only just been taken from his mother and his siblings. I thought I ought to reassure him, calm him down before we talked about returning him."

"I see," Spock replied, though he did not see the rationality of Jim's judgment at all. "Perhaps he will gain appropriate reassurance once we convey him to the breeder, where obviously he will reunite with his mother and siblings."

Jim glanced up and got to his feet, gripping one of the kitchen stools for leverage and grunting as his joints creaked audibly. When he finally stood upright, he shook his legs out one at a time and gave Spock an abashed smile. "Forgive me. I should have said good morning first. I expect you'll want to meditate before we have breakfast? And then we can see about the dog afterward."

Spock accepted the kiss Jim gave him silently and proceeded to his morning meditation in his study. The house's previous tenants had sound-proofed the area, and Spock had originally thought the renovation excessive when the realtor had extolled the room's virtues. But now, as he shut the door on the unpleasant drone that Jim and the animal made together (as the dog once again began to whine and Jim to croon), he privately acknowledged the feature's utility.

When Spock completed his meditation and sought out his husband, Jim and the dog were nowhere to be found.

Spock breakfasted by himself, consuming only a small portion of the hot grains he normally ate in the mornings. He felt some disquiet that Jim had not remained to partake of the meal with him, and had left no indication of his whereabouts.

Soon, however, Spock reasoned that Jim had decided to carry out the agreed-upon decision to return the canine. Upon further examination of the downstairs area, he saw no evidence of either the initial box with its air-holes in which Sulu had transported the animal, or the cardboard box with the blanket and clock from the night before.

Satisfied that Jim had indeed delivered the dog back, Spock finished the remainder of his grains with greater relish.

He had already placed his dish and the saucepan in the cleaning unit when Jim burst in the back door, cheeks ruddy from the apparently blustery wind. Spock felt the corners of his mouth quirk up slightly at Jim's glowing appearance -- that is, until he witnessed the small dog prancing in alongside Jim. The small horn extending from the animal's forehead had obtained a light flush, as if he too had found the cool air invigorating.

"What a day," Jim exclaimed. "The sun is out full force, Spock, not a single cloud in the sky. You know what we should do later? Pack a lunch and head to the park. We'll bring one of your heavy sweaters so you won't feel the chill." He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up on the row of wooden pegs he had nailed to the wall only a few weeks earlier.

"Jim. The dog is with you."

Jim glanced at Spock in perplexity. "We agreed to take him back after breakfast, right? Naturally I didn't want to go without you. And while we were waiting for you to finish meditating, he got a little fussy. So I thought a walk would be just the thing." Jim clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly.

The dog yipped, apparently in answer to the sound of Jim's hands. But clearly Jim took the bark as agreement to his statement, for he smiled at the animal and said, "And it was, wasn't it? Just the thing!"

"Jim. He is depositing particles of soil on the floor."

"Oh! Yes, we'll have to get some old towels to wipe any bits of mud up," Jim murmured. He frowned at the smears of dirt on the cream colored tiles they had carefully chosen with their contractor three and two thirds months ago.

The dog sniffed at the grime curiously before he looked up, panting with what seemed irrationally to Spock a satisfied countenance.

"Jim. The dog has somehow, in the last hour and seventeen minutes, acquired a harness and leash," Spock said, forcing his tone to remain measured.

"Ah," Jim replied, as if flummoxed by this observation. He looked down at the dog, which looked directly back up at him expectantly. "Well. I had him in my arms in the yard, trying to work out how I was going to walk him. And Mrs. Lau from next door saw us, and told me she had an extra harness from when their corgi was a puppy." Jim grinned as though they were discussing a topic they both agreed was highly amusing. "You won't believe this, but when I put the harness on him at first, he fell right over, just like he'd been stunned! Mrs. Lau and I had a good laugh about it. It took a little cajoling, and a few dog treats, but I got Fizzbin up on his feet and walking again. We made it all the way around the block, twice! I think he's really getting the hang of it."

Spock could no longer keep the severe quality from his voice as he said, "It seems unwarranted to invest time in training an animal you do not intend to keep."

Jim ceased smiling as widely as he had been a moment before. Though he still appeared pleasant in his demeanor, Spock recognized the stubborn set of his jaw from years of observation.

"Listen, Spock," Jim began.

Without waiting for Jim to complete his sentence, Spock for the second time in less than twenty-four hours spoke without thinking: "No."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "No what? I haven't finished what I was going to say."

As he attempted to compose himself, Spock stared down at the pup, which had begun to scratch its rump with its back paw. "You have named this dog, which to my understanding we explicitly agreed to return."

Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I couldn't very well walk him without calling him something, could I?"

"Not only that, but you have named it Fizzbin?"

The animal looked up at Spock expectantly.

"You don't like the name?" Jim asked, his brow furrowing.

"Whether I find the name pleasing or not is beside the point -- though I will state that I find it a nonsensical sobriquet for a domestic animal."

"I suppose I just thought it fit him," Jim said in distraction, glancing back to the puppy, which had ceased his scratching and now opened his mouth in a wide yawn.

"Whatever our differences of opinion regarding his appellation are, the fact remains that you are increasingly behaving as though you intend to keep this animal."

"I know I said we'd return him last night." Jim bent so that he could disengage the harness from the dog's body. "It's just been...nice, having Fizzbin around today. I always figured once we were dirtside for good, we'd get a pet sehlat or a cat or something."

"Sehlats and felines are very different species, not to mention --"

"I just meant, I thought one day we'd have a pet together," Jim broke in irritably.

Spock said nothing until Jim had wrested off the dog's harness and stood, slightly red in the face from his exertions.

"I did not realize you entertained such expectations," Spock ventured finally.

Jim sighed. "Maybe I never mentioned it out loud. Anyway. You're right. We agreed. Let me make another cup of coffee, and we'll take this little one back to the breeder."

"Understood." Spock retreated to the living area to wait. After a moment of looking out the window, he sat upon the couch without a book or a PADD to absorb his attention.

A moment later, Spock closed his eyes. He felt unreasonably tired. Strange, considering that he had not performed any physical exertions, and had recently both rested and meditated. Though he had observed the slowing effects of age on himself, typically at this time he felt quite alert. Conversely, it appeared that getting older more markedly impacted Jim's level of energy. Indeed, some late mornings, after a vigorous start he experienced fatigue and needed to rest briefly before undertaking other activities.

Spock frowned as he reflected that due to Jim's usual slight diminishment in vitality at this hour, Spock should offer to drive them both to the breeder's location, some thirty minutes away. However, Jim never appreciated any reminder that Spock noticed his decrease in energy. Quite likely he would also object to Spock insisting that he be the one to navigate their vehicle for the trip. Jim preferred to be at the wheel even when Spock deemed it inadvisable. Add to that Jim's patent displeasure at taking the canine back to its original home, and Spock predicted that the journey ahead would quite likely generate tension between them.

He could hear the sounds of Jim puttering about, walking to the cabinet to get a coffee filter, pacing back to where they kept the mugs, muttering under his breath when he realized he had forgotten some other item he required. He could also make out the sounds of soft paws padding on the floor as the pup followed Jim here and there during the process.

"It only makes sense that I'd check," Jim said suddenly.

The noises that followed indicated Jim had retrieved his communicator and was attempting a connection.

Spock felt an odd sense of apprehension, and opened his eyes.

Fizzbin sat in front of Spock, lightly panting, his mouth curved up in what appeared a gloating expression.

"Spock, I couldn't reach the breeder," Jim called from the other room. Though he must have known that Spock would react unfavorably to this news, there was an undeniable thread of enthusiasm in Jim's voice. "We might just have to keep Fizzbin with us for another day."

"Sulu indicated we would be able to return the animal after keeping him overnight," Spock said at once. As he got to his feet and began to walk toward the kitchen, Fizzbin kept pace, looking up at Spock with evident excitement now that they were in motion.

"Well, I know he said that," Jim told him. Though he spoke apologetically, he had turned away to rummage in the cabinets, and thus did not meet Spock's gaze. "But it's Sunday, and it makes sense that she might not be available on a day when many businesses tend to be closed."

"I would assume you elected to leave a message indicating that we wish to return the dog once regular business hours are again held," Spock said. Though obviously he knew this was not the case (otherwise he would have heard Jim speaking), it was an eminently reasonable assumption to make. And stating it established Spock's unspoken point: that this was what a partner would rationally have done, knowing his husband's wish for a prompt resolution to the situation.

"Oh, I'll just try to reach her a little later," Jim said blithely. "I'm sure we'll get in touch and work it all out soon."

Spock opened his mouth to request that Jim prioritize reaching the breeder as soon as possible. But before he could say anything, Jim bent slightly at the waist and smiled at the dog sitting at Spock's side.

"Now, what do you think, Fizzbin? Do you think you can stand hanging out with a couple of retired Starfleet officers for one more day?"

Fizzbin's response to this proposal was to bark twice in enthusiasm, and then run around in a circle five times.

Spock elected not to accompany Jim and Fizzbin to the park that afternoon.

"Are you sure you don't want to come along?" Jim asked at the threshold. Fizzbin placed his paw on the door, obviously eager to head outside now that he knew what lay beyond the threshold.

"I will use the time to read several recently published scientific articles," Spock told him. "Also, I will prepare food for our evening meal."

Jim merely nodded once as he turned away and followed Fizzbin out.

It was only when the door closed behind both man and dog that Spock realized he and Jim had exchanged no gesture of affection before Jim departed. For several minutes he stood still in the kitchen, staring at the exit without purpose. Finally, he moved back toward his study to fetch a PADD.

Spock did indeed scan several essays he had intended to peruse that afternoon. His attentions, however, were not as fully engaged as he would have liked. After some time he set aside his stack of articles and began preparing the ingredients the recipes called for early.

When the doorknob finally turned hours after Jim had left, Spock glanced toward it with some trepidation.

Instead of Jim and the dog, however, Leonard McCoy entered the kitchen.

"Hmmm, smells like Plomeek Soup," he announced as he strode inside. "Here you go," he added, thrusting out a bag holding a bottle of wine as well as a container of Vulcan spice tea that Spock particularly favored.

"I did not anticipate you would visit us this evening, doctor," Spock said evenly to cover his confusion. He took the offered items and set them on the counter. "I am also unclear as to how you gained entrance to our residence."

"And a 'come on in, make yourself at home,' to you too," McCoy muttered. He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder to indicate the yard and continued, "I ran into Jim and the dog at the park. He invited me over for dinner, gave me the key to go on ahead when he got caught up talking to someone else with a new puppy. Didn't he comm you to let you know?"

"He did not," Spock replied. "But such alerts are ultimately unnecessary. You are welcome here at any time."

"Well, that's more like it," McCoy said, his face easily transforming from an irritable scowl to a broad smile. "How about you prove that by offering me a drink?"

"You may wish to prepare it yourself, given that you prefer a greater volume of alcohol than I myself would ordinarily offer a guest."

"Don't mind if I do." Though McCoy had only been to visit Jim and Spock a few times since they had moved into their new home, he moved with practiced ease to the area in the dining room where they kept the alcoholic beverages.

"Jim's sure batty about your new dog," McCoy commented when he returned with a glass of amber liquid.

"It is not our new dog," Spock responded. "We are merely sheltering the creature while awaiting the opportunity to return it to the breeder."

"You sure about that?" McCoy asked. He took a large sip of his drink in the silence that followed.

"I am not," Spock admitted a few moments later. "Though Jim continues to acknowledge my wishes to bring back the canine at the earliest occasion, in practice he seems disinclined to relinquish the animal."

"Well, would it be so bad?" McCoy stalked back over to Spock and the stove, and peered with interest at the various pots and pans. "A dog would be good company."

"Jim provides all the companionship I deem necessary," Spock answered.

"But is the reverse true?" McCoy asked shrewdly. After a beat, he frowned at Spock and rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't look like that!"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I am certain my expression has not discernibly changed."

"Says you," McCoy muttered. "Look, we all know Jim thinks you hung the moon," he continued at a louder volume. "He'd rather pass the time with you than anyone else in the galaxy. But Jim's a friendly guy, used to lots of socializing, always one to meet new people. While you'd probably be fine with the two of you stashed away in some Vulcan cave, Jim needs more interactions to be truly happy. A dog could be part of that."

Spock let his fingertips rest on the counter so that McCoy would not observe his hands trembling slightly. "You believe I am an inadequate partner, unable to provide Jim with the full and varied life he desires."

"That's not what I said," McCoy snapped. He set down his drink on the counter with a thump.

"Sorry we're a little late," Jim called as he came inside.

Fizzbin scrambled to reach McCoy, yelping excitedly.

"Now, now," Jim told him indulgently. He gave the leash a tug until Fizzbin returned to the doorway, ceased his clamoring, and looked up at him. "Company manners, remember?" Jim told the puppy in a jovial voice. He stood over the dog in a relaxed pose, waiting.

The dog jumped about twice more, but when Jim did not shift from his calm posture, he soon sat and huffed.

"Looks like you're already getting him trained up," McCoy commented.

Jim grinned as he went down on one knee and undid the animal's leash; the series of motions seemed like second nature to him now, as opposed to that morning's handling of the task. "Well, it's taking some doing, but he's a friendly little fellow, wants to please, and that helps a great deal." He gave the dog a nudge, and Fizzbin, having been given official authorization, scurried over to greet their guest.

"Too bad you have to bring him back tomorrow," McCoy added after he had leaned over and patted the dog. He gave Spock a pointed look as soon as he straightened.

A tense silence descended over them -- or, at least, those beings in the room capable of speech. Fizzbin, however, whined lightly, having obviously picked up on the general unease.

"Yes." Jim eventually said. He turned his back to them all, slowly hanging up his coat and beginning to drape the leash and harness on adjacent wooden pegs.

Spock watched Jim, internally calculating how much the evening's exertions must have tired him. An impulse came over Spock, so powerful that he nearly swayed where he stood, to go to his husband and help him with his task, however minor it was. Perhaps, even despite McCoy's presence, he would extend his fingers to Jim in their familiar gesture of affection as a way of offering support. He could picture Jim's pleased bright smile in response, and it sent a yearning through him. Surely both of them would experience comfort in the contact, even if they could not come to an accord regarding the animal.

Then Spock noted that one of his own jackets had been moved further down the row of wooden pegs to make room for the dog's accoutrements.

Instead of crossing to Jim's side, he directed his attention back to the stove, and said, "The preparations for the meal will be complete in approximately seven minutes."

"I'll set the table," Jim said, his voice muted. When he left the room for the dining area, both McCoy and the dog wandered after him, leaving Spock alone.

The meal passed peaceably enough, with McCoy keeping up much of the conversation. While Jim and Spock quietly spooned up their soup, the doctor mused aloud about buying an orchard close to his family property in Georgia and shared his strong opinions regarding the current methods of training young medical officers at the Academy.

"I will bid you good night now, Doctor McCoy," Spock told him shortly after the meal. Jim had already cleared the dishes they had utilized and loaded the cleaning unit, and McCoy had begun to pat his pockets and speak of getting back to his apartment.

"I'll walk you out, Bones, and take this one out for one last jaunt," Jim interrupted. He fetched the leash and harness.

Fizzbin scampered to the door, obviously reading the signal for a walk. His nails scraped against the tiles as he skidded to a halt.

"You'll have to get those trimmed," McCoy said with a wince.

"Yes, we'll -- well, someone else will," Jim corrected himself. "I won't be long," he said to Spock.

"Very well," Spock said quietly to himself after the door had closed.

Jim had apparently decided to come to bed later than usual that night.

While he waited for his husband, Spock answered messages and resumed reading two of the scientific essays he had intended to finish earlier.

The floor below him seemed quiet, undisturbed by any obvious movement from Jim or the canine. Though he could not say for certain, Spock conjectured that Jim had chosen to read on the couch, as he sometimes enjoyed doing. There was a high likelihood he had nodded off while the animal lay at his feet.

His theory was supported when, a short while later, Jim suddenly gave an abrupt snort, as if he had awoken surprised to find himself dozing. Moments later Jim began to walk about, no doubt ascertaining all the lights were turned off.

"Do you want your tick-tock?" he asked the dog in a low murmur.

The dog made a petulant rumbling sound, sounding as if he was barely awake.

"Here you are," Jim said quietly. "And look, there's your blanket. No, none of that now," he added when the dog briefly whined. "Listen -- tick-tock -- hear it?"

A few more minutes passed.

At last Jim walked up the stairs slowly.

When he paused in the doorway, Spock set aside his PADD and regarded him.

"I always had dogs when I was a boy," Jim began. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Spock quickly reviewed some of Jim's anecdotes about his childhood in Iowa. "During your time living on the farm," he offered. "Your family kept dogs to assist in the chores."

"Yes." Jim smiled crookedly.

"You had mentioned their presence when you spoke of your youth, though I realize now I did not comprehend their importance to you."

Jim shrugged. "I suppose having Fizzbin around reminds me of that. Being young, being active. Having an animal who listens to whatever you have to say, about important things or just nonsense."

Spock tilted his head to the side. "Though you could not keep a pet in space, you miss the presence of animals now that we have obtained a permanent residence on Earth."

"No, it's not just that," Jim said quickly. "Sure, I always liked having pets. But growing up on a farm, things were always so busy. And once I started at the Academy, the pace never let up -- instructors to learn from, classmates to contend with, the brass to impress. I liked it -- I thrived on it. Then all that time in space, there were always reports to review, crewmen to supervise, aliens and diplomats who needed delicate handling. Life now..." Jim trailed off and shook his head. "Well, it's a bit quieter, I guess. I'll just have to get used to it."

"Jim --"

"Spock, I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me. I'm just trying to explain why I've been a little --" Rather than finish his sentence, Jim took a breath and began a new one. "Whatever my feelings about all of this, I didn't mean to ignore what you want."

Before Spock could reply, Jim added, "I sent a message to the breeder earlier, after Bones left. She expects us tomorrow morning."

"Very well," Spock answered. He hesitated, unsure whether he ought to say more. But before he could decide, Jim went into the attached bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

Though Spock rested for approximately the same duration he normally did, upon waking he apprehended immediately that Jim had slept poorly.

Jim tended to wake at the same time daily, alert and ready for whatever activities followed. His practice was a long-standing habit from their regimented life in Starfleet.

But that morning, he had curled onto his side away from Spock, frowning even as he slumbered, a pillow clutched tightly in his arms. He did not stir under Spock's gaze, but actually appeared to sink deeper into unconsciousness.

Judging that Jim must have experienced a fitful night, Spock rose silently and prepared for the day as quietly as possible. It would do no harm for Jim to acquire an additional amount of sleep.

He was so absorbed by his concern over Jim's interrupted sleep that he experienced a most unusual moment of surprise when he reached the kitchen and noticed Fizzbin curled in his box.

As soon as the animal spotted Spock, he stood on his hind legs, pawing at the sides of the container, wagging his tail and making urgent whining sounds.

"You obviously require a walk," Spock told him. Upon hearing his words, he felt startled for the second time that morning; he had not intended to speak aloud. But he recalled he had often talked to his pet sehlat back on Vulcan when he was a boy. Considering that past practice, it was not unusual for him to address a domestic creature now.

"Very well." Spock first put on his jacket and then retrieved the harness and leash. He had seen Jim perform the operation of putting them on Fizzbin several times now. Simple observation, however, did not take into account how giddily the creature behaved in practice. After several tries attaching the harness, during which Fizzbin endeavored to lick Spock's face and thrashed about in his eagerness, Spock told the dog sternly, "Be still. You must mind me."

Fizzbin let out an uncertain murmur, but at last he sat and let Spock fasten the trappings necessary for his walk.

Spock made sure to close the door with care, so that their departure did not wake Jim. No doubt Jim would awaken while they were gone. Perhaps he would be gratified that Spock had taken care of the dog morning's obligations, especially since Spock had no desire to spend additional time with the canine.

"It is beneficial to keep a steady pace," he advised Fizzbin, who seemed more inclined to root around in the patch of native grasses at their gate than advance beyond it. Once Spock spoke to him, though, Fizzbin shook himself off and moved forward with newfound resolve, like a plebe determined to make a good showing at his training.

Spock at first intended to walk the dog only around the block. But the day was a fine one -- the sun only slightly obscured by a smattering of clouds, the temperature agreeably brisk. Though his jacket was light, Spock discovered that the rapid pace he and Fizzbin adopted allowed his body to maintain a comfortable degree of warmth. All the conditions of their perambulation appeared favorable. Therefore, when Fizzbin paused on the corner, looking longingly in the direction that would lead them to a nearby green area, Spock told him, "I consent to accompany you."

The dog cavorted happily as they crossed the street, and hurried along faster to reach his desired destination.

Spock observed with interest Fizzbin's purposeful trot as they went their way. Even after only a very brief period of time in their possession, the dog had demonstrated significant improvement in his conduct. He displayed evidence of occasional distraction, true, as when he swerved to bark at a squirrel, or seemed unnerved by an encounter with a vigorously spouting public fountain. But despite these sporadic interruptions, on the whole the pup appeared dedicated to proceeding with their journey.

As they continued along, Spock even began to evaluate the meditative advantages of a walk with an animal such as Fizzbin. He had given up his customary morning period of introspection to exercise the creature, true. But rather than experiencing a low level of tension due to that lack, Spock found ambling along the green area's dirt pathways among the trees somehow both calming and invigorating.

Even occasional interruptions to dispose of Fizzbin's waste did not detract significantly from the experience. Fortunately, the harness that Mrs. Lau had lent Jim was appropriately equipped with a small tube dispensing plastic gloves, and Spock soon located nearby bins to dispense with the material.

Even the attention which Fizzbin garnered from others they encountered along their route did not seem to Spock wholly unpleasant.

"Isn't he darling?" a woman with a small long-haired white dog exclaimed when she saw Fizzbin. "What a marvelous puppy!" Her canine sniffed Fizzbin's backside with interest, as if he too found the other animal intriguing.

"He is a satisfactory representative of his breed," Spock told her. She laughed as though he had told a most entertaining joke.

Several meters onward, a baby strapped into a stroller waved his chubby arms and made impressed, inarticulate sounds when he noticed Fizzbin.

"Indeed," Spock told the small child, who beamed and kicked his legs before his father steered him away.

Other passers-by did not make verbal comments, but often smiled when they saw the animal jogging tenaciously at Spock's side. Perhaps such responsiveness from strangers would have disarmed Spock when he was younger, but he was well used to humans at this stage of his life. Besides, he had some time ago become accustomed to and even privately pleased by the positive reactions strangers often had to Jim upon first meeting him.

Though Spock initially assumed he would be gone with the dog for no more than twelve minutes, by the time he and Fizzbin returned to their gate, thirty-eight minutes had passed. Of course, additional time had been added when Spock had decided to purchase a coffee and a pastry for Jim. But as Spock intended to present the beverage and comestible as a peace offering for the difficult moments they had experienced the day before, he deemed the extra stop worthwhile.

Before they could enter the small house, however, Jim threw open the back door.

"Spock, what --" Jim exclaimed, looking harried. When he took in Fizzbin, scurrying along to keep up with Spock, however, his agitated expression changed to one of bewilderment.

"Greetings," Spock said. Next to him, Fizzbin barked amicably.

"I thought -- when I woke up and neither of you was in the house -- I assumed --" Jim laughed lightly, a deflective tactic Spock had not witnessed him employ in some time.

"You thought I had chosen to return the dog without you," Spock finished for him. "I would not have done so, knowing as I do how you have grown attached to the animal."

"I should have guessed as much," Jim said softly. He smiled at Spock. "Well, don't just stand there; come on back inside, you two."

As they entered, Jim took the coffee and bag containing the pastry with a wide grin. After he set the items upon the counter, he crouched down to help Spock undo Fizzbin's harness.

"I regret that I caused you any worry," Spock noted when their fingertips touched in the process.

"It's fine." Jim paused to stroke his fingers along Spock's hand with a tender touch; Spock returned the gesture gratefully.

Fizzbin, waiting patiently between them, panted with a friendly demeanor as he looked at both of them alternately.

"Now, how about some breakfast?" Jim asked as he got to his feet. "I've already prepared the hot cereal and strawberries."

After cleaning his hands, Spock served their meal of warmed grains and sliced fruits while Jim doled out a portion of kibble for Fizzbin. They all took their places, Jim exclaiming over the deliciousness of the pastry, Fizzbin munching at his sustenance from the bowl Sulu had supplied, and Spock regarding his husband's more relaxed demeanor with no small amount of pleasure.

"Well." Jim stood and began to gather their dishes. His attitude had become more subdued, but only slightly, and the smile he turned on Spock was warm. "We have a drive ahead of us. Maybe I should take Fizzbin out for one last walk before we put him in the car."

Spock touched his arm to halt his movements. "May I suggest instead that we contact the breeder, and inform her that we wish to keep Fizzbin after all?"

"Spock!" Jim looked astounded, his hazel eyes shining with happiness. "Are you sure?"

Spock glanced down at the unicorn dog, which was leaning contentedly against Jim's legs. "I am sure. During this morning's excursion, I have gained a greater understanding of why you experience an affinity with this animal."

Jim laughed heartily. "He won you over, huh? Was it the big eyes, the way he wiggles when he walks, or the unicorn horn?"

"I confess I am motivated in larger part by the thought of your happiness."

"You know I'm happy with you no matter what," Jim said softly as he stepped closer. "We don't need a dog, or anything else, for me to wake up every day feeling like the luckiest guy in the galaxy." He reached to curl his fingers at the nape of Spock's neck and leaned in to press their lips together.

"I am aware," Spock noted hoarsely as he drew back several moments later. He again reached for Jim's hand so that he could caress his fingers. "But I find I can further compromise my expectations regarding our daily routine and domestic environment, in order to increase the degree of your overall contentment."

"Why, Mister Spock," Jim said flirtatiously. He brought Spock's fingers to his lips and kissed them. "You don't usually get this romantic in the mornings."

Spock exhaled slowly, his eyes on Jim's lips. "I have recently been reminded that at times, variations in one's schedule can prove highly advantageous."

"Is that your way of saying you want to head upstairs with me?" Jim asked. "I did lose out on some sleep last night, after all. It's only logical that I should head back to bed, with my husband to accompany me."

"I am convinced by your rationale," Spock said at once.

As they headed for the stairs, Fizzbin attempted to follow them. The small dog whined just once when he found he could not determine how to ascend to the upper floor. But his good temperament quickly prevailed, for rather than continue to make complaint, he merely huffed out a sigh and padded back to the kitchen.

"Pretty soon he'll be big enough to get up the stairs and reach our bedroom," Jim said with a fond smile.

"He will not gain access to our bed, however," Spock said firmly.

"Of course not! A dog on the bed -- just how lenient do you think I've gotten in my old age?" Jim asked indignantly.

Spock merely raised an eyebrow and touched his hand to the small of Jim's back, so that he might urge his husband to make faster progress to their bedroom.