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It had been 2.76 hours since Spock’s parents arrived for their visit. Spock had spent half of his morning vomiting. Whether it was simply due to his usual morning sickness or made worse by dread, he wasn’t sure. Leonard and Jim had tried their best to comfort him, Leonard even offering to keep Sarek occupied as much as possible– an offer Spock dismissed as unrealistic and unnecessary.
For the first hour of their visit Spock was quietly masking his discomfort, answering questions when necessary but otherwise largely relying on his husbands to carry conversation, and to guide him out of conversation as needed. Spock had been carefully selecting each word before daring to utter them in Sarek’s presence. He would have liked to believe that he would not be so miserable were it only his mother visiting, but he knew that was untrue. In reality, his relationships with both of his parents had become strained over years of little to no communication, and, of course, his decision to join Starfleet against his father’s wishes.
Now, nearly three hours into the visit, Jim, Leonard, and his mother at least seemed to be enjoying themselves. Amanda had been telling stories of Spock’s youth for the past twenty minutes, Leonard and Jim happily eating up every embarrassing detail– not that Spock was embarrassed, of course, embarrassment was an emotion.
Spock had begun to space out, unaware of it until a few minutes later when a particularly loud laugh from his mother caught his attention.
“It’s so cute, he’ll never admit to a craving so when we sense it in the bond Bones or I will always have to pretend it’s our idea to get him to go along with it,” Jim grinned. “We had nothing but spaghetti for almost two weeks!”
Spock’s cheeks burned. He lowered his gaze quickly to avoid meeting Sarek’s disapproving eye. He could feel himself spiraling illogically, such a harmless thing had filled him with shame, his heightened emotional state amplifying it to a ridiculous level– even by human standards. Out of his control, he felt the beginning of a physical reaction.
Suddenly he was on his feet, rushing out of the room before any evidence of emotion could be produced. He shut himself into his bedroom before he had a chance to think about how silent everyone had become when he stood, how obvious it was that he was emotionally compromised and how obvious it was that everyone had noticed.
Spock sat heavily on the edge of the bed, facing away from the door. He took deep, shuddering breaths, ignoring the tears wetting his cheeks for fear that addressing them would only wear down his controls even more. There was a knock on the door moments later, of course.
“I require… a moment,” Spock’s voice wavered in the middle as he failed to calculate an amount of time with his usual computer-like accuracy.
After a few seconds they knocked again. Spock sighed and rubbed his eyes harshly.
“Enter,” Spock conceded. The door opened and closed behind him. “Jim, your concern is greatly appreciated but I would prefer to be alone at this–” Spock went silent immediately upon hearing the jangling of jeweled robes, clenched his jaw firmly shut as his father rounded the corner of the bed and sat gracefully beside him, his hands calmly steepled as always.
For a miserable couple of minutes he just sat there silently, Spock only managing to hold himself together through sheer desperation. Sarek finally seemed to sense that his son’s mortification was not improved by his saying nothing.
“My son, your controls are not expected to be in optimal condition at this time,” Sarek started, “I expect you are overrun by hormones by this point in your pregnancy.”
“I–” Spock’s voice broke, “I apologize for my conduct, Sa’mekh.”
Spock finally looked at his father’s face, tears welling in his eyes yet again. His father’s face was as neutral as usual, but his eyes showed something more. Was it pity? Disgust?
“Sa’fu, did your mother ever tell you of the “illogical nonsense” she was forced to tolerate from me while I was pregnant with you?” Sarek asked, his voice gentler than Spock had ever heard it.
“While you…?” Spock gaped, shock distracting from his tears entirely. He blinked to clear them from his vision. He always thought his mother had carried him.
“Though I have never found any appeal in spaghetti, I did have a strong craving for other human foods, mainly those with high sodium content. For instance, from the beginning of my fourth month until two-and-a-half weeks before your birth I was unwilling to eat anything that was not pickled.” Sarek’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “She, fearing for the nutritional wellbeing of the both of us, limited my daily sodium intake drastically from what I was attempting to consume, to the point that she once had to physically restrain me from drinking brine directly from a jar of pickled olives.”
Spock remained silent as his father spoke to him, allowing the jarringly soft tones of his usually stern voice to lull him into a calmer state.
“She would not have told you this, believing that it would wound my “pride,” but I admit there were multiple occasions during which my emotions grew beyond my control,” Sarek continued. “We were forced to leave a bookstore once because I believed an employee was speaking to me as though I was an imbecile, so I threatened him with physical violence. Your mother told me she had never been more humiliated in her life than that moment, which of course caused me to cry uncontrollably in a crowded public walkway. She dragged me home by my wrist as though I were an infant throwing a fit.”
Spock rested his eyes as he listened, unsure of when he’d begun leaning on his father’s shoulder but not particularly concerned about it. He felt a warm palm resting at the center of his upper back, tracing slow circles.
“I can say with certainty that I do not miss the symptoms of my pregnancy, but I must admit to some sentimentality at the memory,” Sarek sighed. “I do look forward to meeting my grandchild, Sa’fu.”
Spock hummed and blinked open his eyes.
“Sa’fu, I have told you before that I disapproved of your choice to reject the VSA in favor of Starfleet,” Sarek’s voice grew quiet. “I have, despite choosing to marry and raise a child with a human, expected you to be nothing but flawlessly Vulcan. I have not put forth any effort to reconnect with you after you left, Sa’fu.” His hand moved to the outside of Spock’s arm, he squeezed it and pulled Spock closer to him. “Your choices are different than mine would have been, but they have not been incorrect. You are well deserving of the praise you receive, and, whether you care to hear it or not, I am proud of you, my Sa’fu.”
Spock gasped, tears blurring his vision. His lip trembled, his throat felt too tight to form a response. Sarek turned and wrapped his arms around his son, emotion radiating from his touch that Spock never could have dreamed of from looking at his expression.
“Sa’mekh!” Spock sobbed, gripping the heavy fabric of his father’s robes, holding on as though he feared Sarek would just leave if he released him. His breath shuddered as sobs racked his body, soaking the neck and shoulder of Sarek’s robes with tears and a not insignificant amount of snot.
Spock held on just as tightly once he’d cried out all he had, wondering how much longer Sarek would allow him this human expression of emotion. In response, Sarek patted his son’s back soothingly, still making no move to pull away, even as the wet patch of fabric grew cold and uncomfortable. His other hand had been stroking Spock’s hair, just the same way Spock remembered from the last time his father had ever held him, the way he’d comforted his son as he cried about bullies and getting hurt and being behind in class and other childish things that felt so simple now.
Spock felt as if he could finally relax for the first time since then. He purred and savored the contact while his sa’mekh petted his hair, not caring if the strands were getting displaced. Sarek’s purr was a quiet and uneven rumble, barely there, but there nonetheless. Spock wondered if he’d always purred like this, if he’d simply missed it in its subtlety. He hoped his baby would get enough experience learning the sound to pick up on it.
After a few more minutes, Spock was ready to return to his bondmates and his mother. Sarek offered his arm to help Spock stand up, never asking for it back after he was up. They returned to the living room, Spock still holding onto his sa’mekh’s arm as they walked.