mememaster | BABIES

"Yeah, I'll do that, I don't mind."

So sayeth the guy who has no idea what that entails.

"I just thought of something--what the hell are we going to do about clothes?"

That pulls even McCoy's immensely self-satisfied smirk up short. "...y'know, now that you say it, I don't know. We've got some pediatric hospital gowns in sickbay, but nothing appropriate for long-term use. When's our next shore leave?"

"Week and a half." Jim taps the tines of his fork against his lips, thinking. "Can we make do with the pediatric gowns that long? Or... wait. I could have a word with ship's services? God knows they've mended enough of my torn shirts. They might be able to do something? Either with the gowns or something else."

"That's not a bad idea," McCoy mused, looking down at the girl in his arms. "I have some old t-shirts I wouldn't mind giving up."

"Yeah, I could do the same. And the laundry's probably got old or extra sheets and blankets that could be remade to the appropriate size."

He rubs the baby's arm absently as he talks, which makes her flail out a little with that arm, trying to figure out where the touch is coming from. He holds out a finger, his smile brightening at once when she closes her fist around it.

"We ought to be able to come up with enough, between all that, to keep her warm and clothed until we get to shore leave and we can get her properly outfitted."

"Yeah," McCoy agrees, a little distractedly, watching those little fingers clamping down on Jim's. It's far more adorable than it has any right to be. He shifts his attention back to her bottle, noting the level. "And when we're all done eating, we can take care of that."

Jim tugs a little at her fist. He's distracted, too, all his attention on the tiny fingers closed around his. He knows, logically, he was once this size, and his mother and others had to help take care of him. But he can't get his mind around it.

And then he wonders if his father felt the same way with Sam. And if, in those last handful of moments, any part of him felt cheated that he wouldn't relive any of this with Jim. Was it enough to know Jim would live, even if he wouldn't be there for any of it?

He shakes his head a little, forcing his attention back to the present moment. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan. What else does she need? Things to play with?"

"Yeah. She's got your little pal there," he nods to the cow, "but she'll need other things to stimulate her senses with. A mobile, if we can, and a few more soft things. We've got a supply of diapers in medbay, but it's really only an emergency stash. And we're gonna need to set up a proper bed for her in your quarters."

Jim nods, his gaze drifting again as he thinks these things over (though it comes right back to the baby when she gives his finger a tug).

"Let me talk to Scotty about a mobile." Because that sort of thing seems right up Engineering's alley. "I wouldn't be surprised if he and his crew could rig up a crib, either. We're already going to talk to ship's services about clothing--they might be able to fashion some sort of soft toys out of the scraps, something to hold her until we can get some proper toys?"

"Yeah. Things with textures. She'll like that." The baby finishes feeding, then, and McCoy looks up at Jim, and there's a wicked twinkle in those dark eyes. "Ready to burp her?"

"Things with textures. You got it."

His face lights up when McCoy asks. Poor Jim, he has no idea. Honestly, he's just looking forward to holding the baby again. (No, this does not bode well for the future when a separation seems all but certain, but he's so not thinking about that right now.) He holds out his hands, nodding. "Yeah. So what do I do?"

McCoy hands the baby over carefully, making sure Jim's supporting her head properly before he reaches for a napkin, unfolding it to its full size. This is going to be hilarious, but he doesn't want to be responsible for baby puke ruining the captain's uniform.

Standing, he carefully drapes it over Jim's right shoulder.

"Hold her up to your shoulder," he instructs, "and be sure you're always supporting her head, and pat her back until she burps."

It's... weird that suddenly now he has to have something between him and and the baby, when he didn't before. He could probably draw the right conclusion if he took a minute to think about it, but he's too distracted with getting to hold her again and being excited about that to consider much else.

He does as he's told, cradling her head, bracing her against his body. He's awkward at first until he gets the rhythm of how to hold and pat her at the same time. She fusses and squirms, and he's just about to ask if he needs to do something different when she lets out a big burp.

And then she spits up all over his shoulder.

Jim pauses long enough to make sure the baby's okay before he looks up at McCoy. "Bones, goddam-- uh, gosh... crap. Did you know that was going to happen?"

Leonard can't help it: it starts out as a smirk, then turns into a smile, before he actually starts to laugh. It's a sight that very few on the Enterprise have seen at all, and even fewer have seen him do sober. He manages to catch his breath between laughs and nods, unable to stop grinning.

"Yeah, I did. Sorry, Jim."

For a moment, Jim looks as if he's about to start ranting. But the baby has turned at the sound of McCoy's laughter, and she lets out a squeal herself. Jim shakes his head, and starts laughing, too.

"Guess I kind of walked into that one. But now I know better, don't I?"

That last is directed at the little girl in his arms, as he reaches to pull the napkin off his shoulder. There's no harm done to his uniform shirt.

"Just for the record, what did you think 'burping' entailed?" McCoy asks, hazel eyes still full of good humor. It's the happiest he's looked in a while, like having this little girl near him is rejuvenating him.

"I never actually thought that far," Jim admits. "I just knew it was something you did with a baby, I never considered the actual mechanics of the act."

He takes a moment to wipe the baby's chin with the clean edge of the napkin. And then he sets it aside, picking up the cow and handing it back to her. She takes it and starts beating it against his shoulder gleefully.

"All right, Bones, what now?"

McCoy shrugs. "I guess we get her set up in your quarters or go see about her clothes." He looks at Jim again. "You sure you'll be okay with her in there?"

"Yeah, it'll be fine," Jim insists. After a moment and a quick study of McCoy's face, he adds, "I know she'll probably wake up a lot. I can deal with that."

McCoy lifts his eyebrows as he crosses his arms over his chest. "And the midnight feedings?"

"I can do those too," Jim insists, almost defiant. "Or the three am feedings, or both. Whatever."

Leonard nods. He's sure Jim can handle it, but the question is whether he'll want to. "I'm sure I'll have to change her diaper before tonight, so I can show you how to do that, too. Ever changed a diaper before?"

He's tempted to say he can handle that, too, but he didn't speak up about the burping and he got puked on.

"I haven't."

"It's easy." Well. It can be. "And chances are good she probably won't pee on you."

"Oh, well, that's good."

He looks down at the baby, who's been beating the cow against his shoulder. "You wouldn't pee on me, would you?" he asks, smiling at her. "You know what, though, if you did, I wouldn't be mad."

She coos at him, and he visibly melts, spreading a hand across her back.

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