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“You are certain?” T’Pring swings her legs off the side of the biobed, ignoring M’Benga gesturing for her to stay put.
“Very,” he says. He turns the monitor to face her, and T’Pring stares, bringing an unsteady hand to the image on the screen. M’Benga grins. “Congratulations, T’Pring.”
-
Later, T’Pring sits on the bench at the foot of Nyota’s bed, watching silently as the lieutenant flits around the room with a fascinating sort of manic energy.
“He’s absolutely sure?” She asks again. T’Pring nods. “I thought it wasn’t even possible!”
“As did we,” T’Pring moves her gaze to the mirror, wondering if there is any discernible difference in her appearance that she hasn’t yet been able to spot, “Doctor M’Benga believes that it is related to the…emotional anomaly we encountered last month.”
“That’s—“ Finally, Nyota stills, coming to kneel before her friend, “T’Pring, are you sure?”
“I am,” Her voice is soft, “more than anything, I am.”
“But after…” Nyota trails off, and T’Pring shakes her head.
“This is different,” she whispers, “I can…I can feel it.” Nyota lets out a startled laugh.
“Well, if you can feel it,” she says, grinning as she gets to her feet, “then I can’t very well argue with that!”
-
She calls Amanda first. T’Pring knows that the traditional course of action would be to inform her own parents, then those of her bondmates, but she has always found a confidante in Spock’s mother, and she finds that she is currently in need of an emotional yet still logical point of view.
“T’Pring!” Amanda appears on the screen, a smile on her face and her hand split in the ta’al. It is evening on Vulcan— her mother-in-law’s silver hair tumbles over her shoulder and she is dressed in a loose-fitting sleeping robe. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Dif-tor heh smusma,” T’Pring says with a nod, “there has been a…” she hesitates, “development.” Amanda’s smile falls, brows furrowing.
“Are Spock and Jim alright?” She asks worriedly. T’Pring nods. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she says, “I— yes.”
“What’s this ‘development,’ then?”
T’Pring takes a deep breath, and tells her.
-
“Ko-fu,” says T’Pring’s mother as the call connects, “what is wrong?”
“Must something be wrong for me to call you?”
“More often than not,” T’Nari says dryly. T’Pring raises an eyebrow, but resolves to call her parents more often.
“Nothing is wrong,” she assures her, “quite the opposite, in fact.”
-
T'Pring decides that she will allow Jim to call Winona himself.
-
She waits for Spock to realize in his own time. His sense of smell is somewhat less acute than a full Vulcan’s, but it only takes him a week longer than it would have taken T’Pring were their roles reversed.
He stiffens in the middle of a shift in the labs, turning to stare at her and pulsing surprise/realization/question/wonder/fear/trepidation/joy across their bond. She raises an eyebrow.
“Lieutenant Commander T’Pring,” Spock says finally, voice strained, “a word?”
-
T’Pring follows Spock into his office, watching with amusement as he glares at the door for not being able to be slammed behind them. He turns to her, and his gaze softens.
“How long...?”
“Approximately one month,” she takes his hands and guides them to her hips, smiling softly as he holds her like something precious and suddenly infinitely fragile.
“I…” Spock’s voice is quiet. Reverent. “I did not know that…”
“That it was possible?” He nods. “Neither did I.”
“Adun’a…”
“Do you...“
“As Jim would say,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes, “‘more than I have ever wanted anything.’”
-
After their shift is over, T’Pring and Spock retire to the latter’s quarters. They lay on the bed, limbs entwined and curled together in a relaxed embrace.
“Kirk to Spock.” Spock pulls his arm away from T’Pring’s chest and fumbles for the comm on the wall, swatting at the button.
“Spock here, captain.” The smile is audible in his voice.
“What’s got you so excited?" Jim’s voice is teasing, flirtatious, but also genuinely curious, as he so often is.
“I believe,” Spock says, “that the correct response would be ‘come down here and see.’”
-
“So?!” Jim bursts into the room — an impressive feat considering the sliding doors — and jumps onto the bed, sending all three of them bouncing.
“I went to see Doctor M’Benga again today,” T’Pring begins, and Jim frowns.
“Is something wrong?” He scoots forward, pressing a hand to her forehead and two fingers to the pulse-point at her wrist (it is a purely human instinct, and she loves him for it).
“On the contrary,” Spock says quietly, “something is incredibly right.”
-
Jim cries. He cries, but he is smiling, and even through their partial bond T’Pring can feel him thrumming with unfettered joy.
“I can’t believe—” his breath hitches, and he looks up at her with shining eyes, “really?” She nods, and his smile widens. “You’re incredible.” He has her hand in one of his and Spock’s sleeve in the other, and T’Pring marvels, not for the first time, how they fit together so perfectly.