Another from the meme. XD

The prompt was for a fic in which Jim attempts to bathe his and Spock's child while getting completely soaked. Spock watches, amused.

Warning: Almost-sex.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!

"Sorel Kirk, would you- would you sit still?" Jim Kirk attempted to wrestle his son into the farmhouse's small bathtub, a grim expression on his face. "You aren't going to melt! Sit your a- butt down this instant!"

"I don't want a bath!" wailed the four-year-old, desperately flailing as his dad tried to put him in the water. "I'm clean!"

"No you're not," growled Jim, finally managing to get the boy into the tub. "You were out with the horses all day. Now sit." He pushed Sorel's shoulders firmly until the boy sat down in the now-lukewarm water. Wiping sweat off his neck – God, but Sorel was strong – he grabbed a sponge.

"It's cold," said Sorel, pouting now.

"It wouldn't be if you'd just got in like I asked," muttered Jim, but he turned on the hot tap for a few minutes. "There."

"Can I have my boats?" Sorel looked up at him with large, shining eyes. They were blue, like his dad's, but much darker. His pointed ears peeked out under honey-colored hair that was growing a bit too long, reminding Jim that his son was, indeed, a devil.

"Where are they?"

"In my room."

"…If I get them, you need to stay here." Jim looked distrustfully down at his son, but Sorel just smiled radiantly. "Fine. I'll be back. Scrub yourself." He got up and left the room, closing the door behind him. Sorel was up and out of the tub almost before it shut. Once he was sure his dad was gone, he slipped out into the hallway and ran down into the kitchen.

"Father! Save me!" Sorel ran behind Spock's chair and clutched at the long robes Spock had taken to wearing.

"…You are fleeing from Jim, again," said Spock, looking down at his rambunctious child. "It is inadvisable for you to run around while unclothed." Before Sorel could move, Spock had scooped him up and started to carry him back to the bathroom. From overhead he could hear his lover moving around.

"All right, I've got your- God dammit! I mean, crap. Sorel! Was I such a handful when I was a kid? I can't possibly have been such a little…"

"Jim." Spock emerged from the stairwell, Sorel in his arms.

"Oh, Spock. Good, you've got him. Don't need him running around outside again. Whew, the neighbors nearly had my throat the last time. All right, you. In." Kirk directed his small son back into the tub. "Thanks, th'y'la. You can go back to reading if you want."

"Very well." But Spock didn't return to his seat in the kitchen. Instead, he leaned on the doorframe, an amused twinkle in his eye.

Jim had got Sorel back into the water and had piled a tower of plastic toys beside the tub. Sorel seemed content to stage an extremely violent sea-battle while Jim washed his hair, slopping more water onto the floor than on himself.

"Tidal wave!"

"Oh, not again!" Jim spluttered as he was nailed with an armful of water. By now he was fairly well drenched. "Hasn't your fleet sunk yet?"

Sorel shook his head. "Nope. The Enterprise rescued them." He hefted the miniature starship proudly. "With the tracker beam."

"Tractor beam. Stop splashing."

It took about an hour to properly wash Sorel. Jim had to refill the tub twice and used almost all of their towels to sop up the flood on the floor. The only good news was that Sorel fell asleep almost immediately after. Being disagreeable was hard work. Jim wrapped him in a fuzzy towel with the Starfleet logo on it and sat him up on the counter while he attempted to dry the floor.

"Do you require assistance?" Spock finally said, with a hint of laughter in his voice. Jim had been hearing that hint more since Spock's pregnancy, and it always made him smile.

"Uh, yeah. Can you put him to bed?" Jim swiped a wet hand across his soaking hair, accomplishing nothing. "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

"All right, th'y'la." Spock carried Sorel into the boy's room and got him dressed in his pajamas. After tucking him in, he continued into the master bedroom. Kirk was inside, peeling off his flannel shirt. He looked like he'd been swimming.

"Just for the record, I was never this bad. It's your genes. You did this." He wrung out a sleeve over the trashcan, frowning at the small stream that resulted.

"Illogical. I was a well-behaved child. I could hardly be anything else." Spock sat on the bed and pulled Jim down with him. He wrapped his arms around Jim's damp chest and pressed his face into the back of his lover's neck, reveling in the sharp cold against his face. "At least he tired himself out," he pointed out contentedly, inhaling Jim's outdoorsy scent.

"Mm." Jim turned around so he was facing Spock and kissed him tenderly. "That is a blessing." He reached for the collar of Spock's robe and slipped it open, tracing a finger down the Vulcan's slowly-exposed chest.

"You are still wet," murmured Spock, licking a drip of water from Jim's chin, savoring the taste. He pushed Jim down onto the bed and began to work at his lover's clinging jeans. The damp denim was rather uncooperative as Spock tugged it down over Jim's hips. He could see Jim's eagerness through his black boxers (also adorned with the Starfleet logo), and could feel his own arousal heighten in response. He was just about to free Jim from the last of his clothing when he heard a cry from down the hall.

"Dad! Father!"

"…"

"God dam-"

"Are you going, or shall I?"

Jim sighed heavily. "Let's both go." He dragged on an old T-shirt and sweatpants and followed Spock out of the room.

Having kids was tough work.

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