Entry tags:
Star Trek XI, "Perks of the Job," Spock/Uhura, Chapel, McCoy, PG, baby!fic
Title: "Perks of the Job"
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Spock/Uhura, Christine Chapel POV
Rating: PG (depiction of childbirth, imaginary-language swearing)
Summary: Christine just might have the toughest job on the Enterprise. But getting to help bring a new (mostly-human) life into the universe is the sort of thing that makes it worthwhile.
AN: Written for![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
slyprentice on the kinkmeme, who was feeling discouraged about her attempts to become a nurse, and wanted some fluff.
AN II: I know that "Amanda Nichelle Spock," strictly speaking, makes no sense, but I'm taking as precedent one Mr. Hikaru Walter Sulu. (I almost went with Sanaa, for that one badass fichelens78 wrote about Nyota's grandmother, but I didn't want to go that meta-fandom for a tiny fluff ficlet.)
(Also the header is now about as long as the actual fic, and probably better-written...)
Christine didn't always love her job. She didn't care for administering vaccines to brusque officers who didn't have time to say "and you?" when she asked politely about their day, or tiptoeing around a melancholy and hungover Dr. McCoy the day after losing a patient, or trying to anticipate Jim Kirk's spectacular variety of allergic reactions. Every once in a while, though, she was reminded of why she put up with it all.
Christine had always known that Lieutenant Uhura was a strong woman, but until she felt the officer's hand tightening painfully around her own as she lay panting in the biobed, her contractions increasingly forceful and closely spaced, she had no idea how strong she literally was.
"Ow, hey, why not save the death grip for the one who put you here?" the nurse teased softly. Standing at Uhura's other side, Spock raised an eyebrow in an expression that Christine read as ruefully amused.
"I -- ungh -- figure he'll suffer enough in the next few months." Uhura didn't quite smile, but her eyes twinkled despite the beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. Then those strong fingers clenched down again, and the patient and the nurse both gasped in pain. "Ghuy'cha'! Is it supposed to feel like that?"
"My Klingon is somewhat out of practice, but I believe your patient may require another dose of painkillers," suggested Spock. Noting the slight twitch of the Vulcan's lip, Christine made the snap decision to obey the request, and reached over to the nearby table to pick up the appropriate anesthetic hypo. After she administered it, Uhura sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment, clearly focusing herself on the task at hand. Christine glanced at Spock for just long enough to see him almost-not-quite smiling at his wife, his dark eyes shining with admiration.
Soon enough, the main event was officially underway, and Christine had to step aside to let Dr. McCoy take over. The whole time, though, she stayed at Uhura's side, checking on her comfort and offering her cool cloths for her forehead and little encouraging words and noises. "Come on, just breathe," "It's okay, you're doing really well," "Almost done now, just one more push."
Of course, it was the doctor, with his few words and slight blush at seeing a friend in this position, who actually got to deliver little Amanda Nichelle, to examine her sticky little body and check her quiet heartbeat and the rising and falling of her tiny chest. It was the doctor who recorded the time of birth and shook Spock's hand, in what was by far the friendliest exchange the two men had ever shared.
But it was Christine who cleaned the baby with a warm, soft towel and carried her back to Uhura's bed, barely able to look away from those huge, dark eyes in that chubby little face. And it was Christine who was there when one of those stubby hands reached out to brush the Lieutenant's cheek, and Uhura's whole face went warm and soft as she caught the little hand between two fingers and pointed it towards herself, and began to recite almost under her breath:
"Mama. Maman. Mamako. Ko-mekh."
"I love you. Je t'aime. Ninakupendu..."
It seemed to take a while for her to notice that Christine was there, but eventually she looked up and smiled. "Thank you."
"No need to thank me, Lieutenant. You did all the work, after all."
"No, really. Thanks. I don't know how I would've done it without you taking care of me like that."
"You'd have managed. Look at that, you're a natural." The baby had snuggled up with her head against Uhura's collarbone, and was already falling asleep. Uhura looked like she was ready to do the same. "Why don't I just stay here for a bit and look after you two? For once we don't have anybody critical in here, I might as well take advantage of it." Christine hadn't finished that last sentence before Uhura's eyes had drifted shut. She sat down in the chair at the side of the room and just looked at the two of them for a moment, telling herself that she'd have to remember this moment the next time something made her question her choice of career.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Spock/Uhura, Christine Chapel POV
Rating: PG (depiction of childbirth, imaginary-language swearing)
Summary: Christine just might have the toughest job on the Enterprise. But getting to help bring a new (mostly-human) life into the universe is the sort of thing that makes it worthwhile.
AN: Written for
slyprentice on the kinkmeme, who was feeling discouraged about her attempts to become a nurse, and wanted some fluff. AN II: I know that "Amanda Nichelle Spock," strictly speaking, makes no sense, but I'm taking as precedent one Mr. Hikaru Walter Sulu. (I almost went with Sanaa, for that one badass fic
helens78 wrote about Nyota's grandmother, but I didn't want to go that meta-fandom for a tiny fluff ficlet.)(Also the header is now about as long as the actual fic, and probably better-written...)
Christine didn't always love her job. She didn't care for administering vaccines to brusque officers who didn't have time to say "and you?" when she asked politely about their day, or tiptoeing around a melancholy and hungover Dr. McCoy the day after losing a patient, or trying to anticipate Jim Kirk's spectacular variety of allergic reactions. Every once in a while, though, she was reminded of why she put up with it all.
Christine had always known that Lieutenant Uhura was a strong woman, but until she felt the officer's hand tightening painfully around her own as she lay panting in the biobed, her contractions increasingly forceful and closely spaced, she had no idea how strong she literally was.
"Ow, hey, why not save the death grip for the one who put you here?" the nurse teased softly. Standing at Uhura's other side, Spock raised an eyebrow in an expression that Christine read as ruefully amused.
"I -- ungh -- figure he'll suffer enough in the next few months." Uhura didn't quite smile, but her eyes twinkled despite the beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. Then those strong fingers clenched down again, and the patient and the nurse both gasped in pain. "Ghuy'cha'! Is it supposed to feel like that?"
"My Klingon is somewhat out of practice, but I believe your patient may require another dose of painkillers," suggested Spock. Noting the slight twitch of the Vulcan's lip, Christine made the snap decision to obey the request, and reached over to the nearby table to pick up the appropriate anesthetic hypo. After she administered it, Uhura sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment, clearly focusing herself on the task at hand. Christine glanced at Spock for just long enough to see him almost-not-quite smiling at his wife, his dark eyes shining with admiration.
Soon enough, the main event was officially underway, and Christine had to step aside to let Dr. McCoy take over. The whole time, though, she stayed at Uhura's side, checking on her comfort and offering her cool cloths for her forehead and little encouraging words and noises. "Come on, just breathe," "It's okay, you're doing really well," "Almost done now, just one more push."
Of course, it was the doctor, with his few words and slight blush at seeing a friend in this position, who actually got to deliver little Amanda Nichelle, to examine her sticky little body and check her quiet heartbeat and the rising and falling of her tiny chest. It was the doctor who recorded the time of birth and shook Spock's hand, in what was by far the friendliest exchange the two men had ever shared.
But it was Christine who cleaned the baby with a warm, soft towel and carried her back to Uhura's bed, barely able to look away from those huge, dark eyes in that chubby little face. And it was Christine who was there when one of those stubby hands reached out to brush the Lieutenant's cheek, and Uhura's whole face went warm and soft as she caught the little hand between two fingers and pointed it towards herself, and began to recite almost under her breath:
"Mama. Maman. Mamako. Ko-mekh."
"I love you. Je t'aime. Ninakupendu..."
It seemed to take a while for her to notice that Christine was there, but eventually she looked up and smiled. "Thank you."
"No need to thank me, Lieutenant. You did all the work, after all."
"No, really. Thanks. I don't know how I would've done it without you taking care of me like that."
"You'd have managed. Look at that, you're a natural." The baby had snuggled up with her head against Uhura's collarbone, and was already falling asleep. Uhura looked like she was ready to do the same. "Why don't I just stay here for a bit and look after you two? For once we don't have anybody critical in here, I might as well take advantage of it." Christine hadn't finished that last sentence before Uhura's eyes had drifted shut. She sat down in the chair at the side of the room and just looked at the two of them for a moment, telling herself that she'd have to remember this moment the next time something made her question her choice of career.