mememaster | BABIES

Entry tags:

meme: babies

BABIES

the babies meme

guidelines
→ Leave a comment with your character's name, fandom, and any preferences you may have.
→ Another character replies and suddenly you are a loving (??) couple with a child or multiple children!
→ Go from there! You can do literally whatever you want, from silly day-to-day domestic shenanigans to threads involving pregnancies to more serious topics. If you're short on ideas, you can look to other memes like The Domestic Meme or The Family Meme for inspiration.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

McCoy jerks his shoulder under Jim's hand, but it's a half-hearted get your hands off me jackass rather than one that has any oomph behind it. He misses Jo, more than he can ever say, and the empathy is appreciated. "You know where to find me. And after one night of being woken up every hour, you will be hollering for me."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see."

...See him doing precisely that, no doubt. Because he has no idea, he's never lived it.

For now, though, the baby seems to be considering the idea of settling in. She's quieter--she's stopped bashing the cow against the side of the crib in favor of an almost thoughtful examination of it.

Jim can't help himself. He knows maybe he should leave her alone while she's quiet, but he scoops her up, cradling her against his shoulder. She curls into him, sort of half-heartedly thumping the cow against him as he holds her. "Computer," he calls out, rubbing the little girl's back with his free hand, "dim the lights."

McCoy nods, mildly approving. "Walk around with her a bit, let her get relaxed, and then put her down."

Jim smiles; there's a definite I got that right cast about it, but it's softer, warmer, too. Like he's pleased. Like holding this baby is pretty damned good.

"I'll try that." And he starts walking, slowly, that hand still rubbing small circles on her back.

Leonard realizes that he's not actually doing any good here; that he's just kind of awkwardly hovering, trying to reconnect with something he'd thought he'd lost. He knows he ought to go ...

... but he doesn't.

Instead, he grabs Jim's desk chair and settles in it, arms over his chest, watching like he's evaluating Jim for a progress report. He'd almost look stern if he didn't have that softness to his eyes.

Jim is surprised when McCoy doesn't leave. He knows the scowling surveillance is mostly for show, and yet with a million other things he could be doing, his CMO is sitting there, arms folded, watching him hold the--

Oh. Oh. Jim thinks he gets it now.

"I forgot to check in with ship's services about the blankets and all the rest." And with that, a very drowsy baby is deposited in McCoy's arms so Jim can go avail himself of the communicator panel on the wall behind his desk.

He tries to keep the grin off his face as he hails ship's services.

You do not get anything, ever, okay, Jim Kirk. You certainly don't see that Leonard McCoy is as transparent as a window when it comes to children, especially tiny adorable babies who curl up against his chest and nestle their heads under his chin like she was meant to be there. He doesn't say a word as Jim goes to the comm, just shifts his position to hold her more securely, knuckles rubbing along her back gently.

Some blankets and a couple of makeshift onesies, made quickly and on the fly, are apparently ready; Jim asks they be brought down. He steps out into the corridor to wait so the delivery person's arrival doesn't disturb the baby.

When he steps inside, the pile of folded blankets and garments he holds are amusingly familiar in their primary colors. It's clear ship's services gutted some uniform shirts. Jim sets the pile of things on top of his dresser, and then he comes over and drapes a command yellow blanket over the baby.

"How's she doing?"

"She's good." McCoy's voice is pitched much more quietly than usual, and he's stroking the baby's back with a slow, rhythmic motion. "Think she's just about asleep."

"Good."

He wants to reach down and touch the baby, too, but he doesn't want too many hands on her, or to disturb McCoy's soothing.

"That works well? Rubbing her back."

"Mmm-hmm." He can feel her breathing evening out, the soft contented sigh of a baby finally soothed to sleep. "She seems to like it." He glances up at Jim. "Get the bed ready. She's gonna need it soon."

"You got it."

Jim finds himself wondering, as he gets the crib ready, how you know something like that. Is it instinct? If he becomes a father himself someday, would he just somehow know what to do for a baby?

He comes back, smiling faintly at them both. "It's ready."

Carefully, Leonard hoists himself to his feet, moving slowly and gingerly so as not to jostle the baby too much, and settles her down into the crib, pulling the blanket tenderly over her.

"There we go," he murmurs. "Out like a light."

Jim watches her for a moment, rapt. "She's so peaceful. Thanks."

He looks up at his friend, oddly reluctant to have him leave. "...Want a drink?"

"Yeah," McCoy says, straightening up, fingers resting lightly on the edge of the crib. "I'll have one. Thanks."

"You got it. Go on," he says, canting his head in the general direction of the couch, "take a load off, I'll get the bourbon."

He moves to the cabinet near his desk, fetching the bottle and two glasses.

"Thanks." Taking a seat in the chair near the crib, McCoy watched his friend as he gathered the stuff for the drinks.

Jim pours a generous amount of bourbon in each glass, handing one over to his CMO.

"Thank you, by the way," he says, raising his glass in salute. "I wouldn't have known what to do today without your help."

Leonard shakes his head, raising his glass in return. "Not a problem. It was ... " His eyes drift to the crib, with its precious cargo. "Nice to help."

Jim's gaze follows McCoy's, and he nods, much more serious.

"Thank God someone thought to hide her. Can you imagine...?"

Leonard closes his eyes, shaking his head as he takes another swig of his drink. "Don't even think about it, Jim. Someone had that forethought, and that's what matters."

"I wonder if that's what was going through my dad's mind, the day he..."

The words are out of his mouth before he really realizes what he's saying. Jim stops short, going still for a moment, before he shrugs.

"You know."

Leonard is silent for a moment, and then he slides down in his seat and kicks Jim gently in the ankle. It appears to be a hostile gesture, but he knows the captain will interpret it as it's meant, more it's okay, I'm here for you than shut the fuck up.

"Good parents will always put their kids first, no matter what," he says, quietly.

Jim stirs, offering the doctor a brief, faint smile before his gaze drifts again to the crib.

"I hope someday," he says, his voice soft, "I can be even half the father my dad was."

"You will be," Leonard says, with conviction. "You'll probably do it all bass-ackwards and drive me nuts along the way, but you'll be great."

That he's including himself in Jim's life as a parent doesn't even occur to him. Of course he'll be there, won't he? Why wouldn't he be?

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