"So," Eddie said, resting his chin in his cupped hands and smiling winsomely up at Steve, "what's my motivation here?"
Steve ran a hand through his hair, honestly stumped. This wasn't going anywhere close to how he'd thought it would, and the entire flaw in the plan was the guy right in front of him. He - the fact of it was, Steve hadn't been expecting anyone even close to so hot, and it was really screwing with his ability to form complete sentences, let alone think around corners.
"Your Craigslist ad said - "
"Yeah, the ad," Eddie waved that away. "There's only so much information your response gave me, big boy. Sure, you want Thanksgiving ruined, but what's my backstory?"
"I don't -"
Eddie vaulted to his feet, way too much energy for the peaceful clearing they'd met up in, almost tipping himself backwards over the picnic bench... and then doing it, sprawling out over the table like a swooning maiden, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead.
"Am I a pining ex serenading you under your bedroom window?" He sat up, an abrupt movement that left him hunched and glaring. "A bitter rival accusing you of stealing my man?"
Steve took a couple of steps backwards as Eddie flung himself off the picnic table and darted in close, looking up at him under his lashes with an air of tragedy.
"Are you cheating on me, baby?"
"I wouldn't," Steve said, and quite without intending to he reached up and cupped Eddie's cheek, brushing the crest of it with his thumb before feeling bright colour wash across his own, up to the bright tips of his ears.
"Oh," Eddie breathed, his eyes flicking between Steve's, "you're just a sweetheart, aren't you?" His long fingers cupped Steve's elbows, then slid down to encircle his wrists, the brush of his warm skin like tingling static against Steve's.
"I just want my parents to believe me," Steve said, his blush renewing at the plaintive note in his voice, the idiot simplicity of what he couldn't do for himself.
"Oh, baby," Eddie said, his voice settling warm like syrup in Steve's gut, "I will be the most convincing boyfriend you could ever wish for." He grinned, wide and a little manic, and Steve couldn't help how the echo took up residence on his face.
"And what's more convincing," Eddie said thoughtfully, carefully weaving their fingers together and pulling Steve a little closer, "than days - nay, weeks! - of dating?"
"Weeks?" Steve asked, laughter warm in his voice.
"Months?" Eddie asked, and then - slow, and sweet, and with all the time in the world where Steve chose not to pull away - gently brushed their lips together.
"I'm in trouble with you, huh?" Steve asked, and got another of those sweet, manic grins.
"You wouldn't believe how convincing marriage can be," Eddie said.
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Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the Tumblr, it is once again time for another installment of the utterly absurd series for which literally nobody asked!
Vera Grace of @wolveragrace has been busy achieving top speeds on a mobile carrot, in her role as A Veg Racer. Possibly she needs to let off steam after her day at the cemetery, where she is busy with Grave Care. Otherwise she might have to go and yell in a cavern, as she is a compulsive Cave Rager.
Dorji Dotharl of @gobbie-boom has been upsetting certain people with his jottings, as they have denounced him as a Horrid Jot Lad, which seems somewhat judgemental. Furthermore he is accused of being the person who Hid Old Rot Jar, although why anyone would want one of those on display I don't know. As for the implications of I Jolt Hard Rod, the least said the better.
Odette Hollows of @ahollowgrave suggests you seek wisdom from the birds of the night when entering a public raffle, advising that you should Heed Lotto Owls. She might also pen you a beautiful poem, celebrating the advantages of heated bath linen, with her Hot Towells Ode. She is slightly exasperated with a specific personal item, which appears to be giving her a bit of bother - Oh Lewdest Tool!
Alus Beauregard of @thebeauregardbros has, appropriately enough been predicting the future through his study of Readable Augurs. He has clearly spotted a risk to local crops, as he suggested that you Use Arable Guard to protect them. On a similar note, he is well-placed to advise you on how to remove adverts from your life, as he is an Erasable Ad Guru. However, be careful when joining him on the red carpet, as he may choose to Use Rude Gala Bra to get everyone talking.
Finally, everyone's favourite celebrity serpent, Caduceus of @spotofmummery has been re-labelling all the bottles of milk as Cud Sauce, which doesn't sound nice, hanging out at political meetings as his alter ego, Caucus Ed, and reminding an Ishgardian noble when to speak by providing A Duc's Cue.
Apologies once again for visiting such silliness upon you and your lovely OCs. Thank you for indulging me!
Ficlet: Star Trek TOS -- McSpirk Mpreg (Kirk/Spock/McCoy)
Sheer ridiculousness in flashfic form. I was going for silly and landed at unbearably schmoopy. Oops. For @twinkboimler! Via an idea from @calliecat93.
(For context: McCoy is trans here.)
Leonard checks his cross-referenced data for the third time, but he already knows it’s correct. Just seems like it shouldn’t be. He’s sitting at Jim’s desk, his PADD and tricorder readouts spread across the surface, while Spock sits perpendicular to him in the chair opposite, working on his own PADD. His ridiculously long legs are stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. Spock tends to hunch a bit in public, try to draw his lanky body inwards, but Leonard’s started to notice how he relaxes when they’re in private. Lets himself spread out and take up space.
Leonard’s own ankle is resting on his knee, foot jiggling restlessly; he makes himself still, leaning back and interlacing his fingers on his stomach. Eventually Spock notices and looks up. He raises an eyebrow.
“I think we’re gonna hafta reschedule the wedding,” Leonard says.
Spock’s other eyebrow goes up.
“Most unfortunate.”
“Reschedule?!” says Jim, sitting up from his sprawl on the bed, finger between the pages of his book. “It’s not enough that we found a date that worked for Sarek AND my parents AND Joanna AND T’Pau AND that the admiralty would approve? You want to start over? I can’t do it, Bones. I can’t. I’m only one man. I only have so many godlike feats in me.”
“Might I ask why we would consider rescheduling?” asks Spock, ever the pragmatist, ignoring Jim.
“Well,” Leonard says slowly. “Seems I’ll be a little busy around that time. Havin’ a baby.”
Dead silence, but for the sound of the engines.
Jim’s book hits the floor.
“Bones,” he says. “You. What!” He’s already across the room, hands on the desk as he bends to meet Leonard’s eye.
Leonard bites back a nervous grin, looking at Spock, who’s gone very still.
“You are sure?” he asks.
Leonard’s nascent smile immediately becomes a scowl.
“Whaddya mean? ‘Course I’m sure. I’m a doctor, not an astrologist. 'sides, I recognize the symptoms from Jo.”
Spock is still not moving or emoting.
"How?" he says. Leonard raises an eyebrow.
"Do they not teach the birds and the bees on Vulcan? Or is this a ploy for a demonstration?"
“How was this able to happen?" Spock says, not rising to the bait. "Jim proceeded with uteroplasty. Because you were no longer a viable carrier.”
“I didn’t say that,” Leonard says. “I said it’s hard to predict these things once ovulation’s become irregular. I know you remember me telling you I stopped birth control, to up our chances.” He shrugs. “Guess we got lucky.”
Jim’s thumb strokes across the back of Leonard’s hand and he looks up to meet Jim’s sunshine smile, before it's turned on Spock.
“Spock,” Jim says gently and Spock startles before looking at him. “Take a breath,” Jim suggests.
Spock takes two deep breaths and some color seems to return to his cheeks.
“Leonard,” he says. “Ashayam!” And he's on his feet bending over the desk too, fingers brushing Jim’s, hand cupping Leonard’s cheek — and now, now Leonard can’t stop smiling. Jim swoops in and gives him a breathtaking kiss before planting one on Spock as well.
“A baby!” he says. “A tiny Bones. Ha, Chapel’s gonna be insufferable.”
“Don’t I know it,” Leonard mutters. “Say, Jim, how are you feeling after swinging by this morning?”
“Oh, fine,” Jim says dismissively. “I’m not the one to worry about here, we’ve got to take care of you.”
“You were ill, Jim?” Spock says with a slight frown.
“It was nothing,” Jim says. “Bones gave me a hypo. I was just feeling sore and a little queasy. An ensign in the turbolift had on the heaviest perfume. And I don’t know what someone ordered for breakfast in the officers' mess today but it stank. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”
Slowly, Spock’s eyes slide over to Leonard. Leonard looks blankly back.
“Sore?” Spock says. “From our sparring the other evening?”
Jim frowns, his pretty face screwed up in thought.
“No, nothing that would’ve been caused by that. Mostly just my chest.”
He presses a hand to his pectoral and winces minutely.
Spock’s eyes widen and he gropes behind himself for his chair, landing heavily.
“I was thinking, when we reschedule the wedding,” Leonard says conversationally. “We should make sure we push it back far enough.”
“Far enough for what?” Jim asks.
“For when you have your baby,” Leonard says, nodding at Jim’s abdomen.
Jim’s mouth actually drops open in shock, something Leonard always thought was figurative. Because he’s a starship captain, the noise he lets out surely isn’t a squeak, but it certainly approximates one. He swings his open mouthed gaze to Spock, who’s had about 30 more seconds to come to terms with the news but is still looking fairly thunderstruck, especially for a Vulcan. Leonard grins. This is even more entertaining than he’d hoped.
“…two babies?” Jim asks.
“Yep,” Leonard says, with some satisfaction.
“Jim is pregnant,” Spock finally manages. Leonard’s gonna make so much fun of them later.
“Correct.”
“And you are pregnant,” Spock states.
“Also correct.”
“You will both be giving birth.” Spock’s really gone off the deep end if he’s restating this many facts.
“Right.”
“To our children.”
"You might even have to hold a baby, Spock."
Jim gives a slightly hysterical laugh, hands in his hair. He stumbles the few steps to the bed and sits down heavily.
"Bones," he says, dazed. He looks up at them. "Spock. We're having babies!"
"Multiple infants," Spock says faintly.
"Think Amanda will be happy?" Leonard asks and the look on Spock's face is such a combination of joy and terror he'd like to frame it.
"Why is nobody sitting with me?" Jim asks. "Come here."
Mutely, Spock obeys, and Leonard follows, hands in his pockets. He's playing this cool, but his heart is beating pretty fast as well. It's been a fairly shocking day.
They settle around Jim like a pair of parentheses. Leonard nuzzles into the skin of Jim's neck, where he smells best. His ankle hooks around Spock's.
Jim kisses his forehead, then grabs their hands, squeezing them.
"I'm having your baby, Spock," he says, still sounding faintly hysterical. Spock scoops Jim even closer to himself.
"Actually," Jim says, looking at Leonard. "Your baby. Do we know? Who the other parent is? Or— Not yet. Right?"
"Funny thing," Leonard says, untangling from Jim and leaning back on his hands on the bed. "My bloodwork was lookin' a little strange, so I poked around. Turns out the nutritional needs of an embryo are a little different. When they've got Vulcan heritage."
Jim whoops, smacking Spock on the arm. Spock looks startled and a bit dismayed.
"Spock, you sly old dog," Jim says. "You knocked up both your partners?"
"I … did," says Spock, uncertain. Then, firmer. "I did." He squares his shoulders.
Leonard is grinning — he was worried Jim would be disappointed it wasn't his, but of course he's not.
"Wow," says Jim, scrubbing a hand down his face. "This is going to be…"
"Absolute lunacy?" Leonard suggests. "An unmitigated disaster? A spectacle of chaos and absurdity?"
"Probably!" Jim agrees.
"Fascinating," says Spock.
"What now?" asks Leonard.
"I do not disagree and yet…"
Leonard will never say so, but he loves Spock's eyes when he's introspective. There's something damn near soulful about them.
"And yet?" Jim says.
The shape of Spock's eyes shifts, his whole face softening into a true smile, subtle but real. And just for them.
"And yet," he says. "I find I am delighted."
==
FYI, @mcspirkevents! For my McSpirk Bingo Card square "How?"
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i think it would be funny if you could fully anon post on here and it would still show up on your followers' dash but they just wouldn't know which of their mutuals posted "cheemse in my ass 🧀🤤" with no tags at 3:47 am
Presumably other people have also had the dreadful experience of inadvertently applying such embrocations as Ben-Gay, or Tiger Balm, or Vapo-Rub, or Aspercreme to one's most sensitive areas, but what if. For a Qunari. This was a delightful sensation, comparable to a tingling lubricant. Because they wear the vitaar, and would thus be resistant.
