Notes: Now without editing errors. Apparently, I don't go well with exhaustion and heavy-duty painkillers.

Okay, so they'd been having some power issues lately. It was kind of basic: massive power outages at vital times to vital equipment is why, boys and girls, mice and starships don't mix. But apparently Starbase 12 hadn't got the memo regarding vermin, and they'd only found out about the stowaways after Jim raided the galley for a midnight snack and turned around to find a rat eyeballing him from the replicator.

(Bones said it was a mouse. But Jim came from rural Iowa, and he knew a rat when he saw one, thank you very much.)

But there hadn't been anything to suggest the transporter was having any issues until the last beam-up of the day, and that frankly horrific high-pitched squealing that the console started to make.

"Scotty," Jim said idly, "I don't like that noise." He'd just stepped down off the pad himself, and really didn't want to think that he'd been beamed up through that noise.

"Ye think I do?" Scotty muttered crossly, fumbling with buttons. It was almost funny - he looked completely incompetent if he did anything. He never looked like he actually knew what he was doing, and yet he was the most capable engineer in the fleet.

The lights began to shimmer, and Jim ran through the landing party roster in his head as the whining grew louder.

"Scotty," he said quietly, "for the love of God, tell me that's not Commander Spock."

"I won't be lyin' to me cap'n," Scotty returned, beginning to look a little flustered. "Just need ta - Robertson, give me th' power from two and three to boost four."

The lights were flickering, in and out, in and out, and suddenly Jim began to feel a bit sick. If they lost power mid-transport...

"Scotty..." he urged.

"I'm on it, cap'n, just a - gotcha!"

The squealing died, and two of the circuits on the main console blew - as the lights died and coalesced into a solid form. The moment Jim registered the solid, standing figure of his First Officer, he whirled to thump Scotty on the back gleefully.

Then two things happened.

First, the sound of ripping fabric caught his ears, and second, his brain caught up with what he'd really seen.

Jim whirled back - along with Scotty, Ensign Robertson, and the four other members of the landing party, including Dr. McCoy - to gawp as Spock's pants tore at the hips and fell gracelessly to the floor. Glancing down quite calmly, Spock arched an eyebrow and stepped out of the pants and boots to stand more-or-less half naked on the step to the transporter pad.

And that wasn't even the surprising thing.

"Uhhh..." Jim said dumbly.

A half-Vulcan woman stared blandly back at them.

"Um, Spock, you're, er..." Jim gestured vaguely at his own chest, his eyes glued to the stretched-tight fit of Spock's tunic.

"I believe the phrase, Captain, is that my eyes are 'up here'," Spock returned flatly, and he - she? - turned to Dr. McCoy. "I believe this calls for a visit to Sickbay."

"Ye-eah," McCoy said. "Yeah, just a bit."

He almost offered...her?...a hand down, but visibly restrained himself and shooed him - her! - ahead to Sickbay, leaving the transporter room in a state of shock.

"I really need to cut down on th' drinkin', sir," Scotty said into the silence, and when Jim laughed, it sounded ever-so-slightly hysterical.

"Jim."

"Huh? What?"

"I would prefer it if you were to stop staring at my breasts," Spock said, and only Spock could come out with something that fucking weird and sound totally collected about it.

"Umm," Jim said, and kept staring.

McCoy sighed, ducking between them and stopped at the head of the biobed with a hastily clapped-together report on a padd. Frankly, Jim might be bugging out, but McCoy was over it already. He'd seen much, much weirder things. Suddenly having your very male XO and resident hobgoblin sashay into the room like his (her) hips had been made for a luau was nothing.

"Congratulations, Jim," he said, throwing up his hands. "It's a girl. And I am never going near that transporter again."

"How in the hell...?"

"I'm a doctor, not an engineer," McCoy grunted. "Hell if I know how, but what we've got here is a perfectly healthy - as far as I can tell - half-Vulcan, half-human female. Breasts and all."

And what breasts. Jim had only ever seen skinny Vulcans, and mostly men, but Spock had knockers. There was no other way to put it. Long slender legs, long slender arms, tiny waist and a definite hourglass thing going on, but bam. Boobs.

BOOBS.

Jim's libido was somewhere between having a heart attack, and a multiple orgasm.

Oh, it wasn't exactly a carbon copy of how Spock looked. For a start, Spock was hardly girly (apart from maybe the epic eyelashes and the persistently perfect fingernails) and it would have been weird. But the shifts were generally fairly subtle. The facial features were smaller, and suddenly leaning more towards pictures Jim had seen of Spock's mother. The jaw was definitely from Amanda, rather than the stern Vulcan (and male) set to it there had been before. The mouth was fuller but smaller, but the eyes were largely the same. The hair was the same, if not the style (somehow, the transporter had decided that what Spock really needed was long, long hair. Like, down to his/her ass long.) The hands and feet seemed to be pretty much the same, just much smaller (still bony and fingers way out of proportion to the palm, but what the hell) and the proportion of...well, everything between the knees and the neck had shifted.

Like in the chest area. Hoo-boy.

If he'd had the opportunity to put male-Spock and female-Spock side by side, he wouldn't have necessarily pegged them as the same person - in fact, probably not - but he would have guessed at siblings. Maybe cousins.

Except...wow, Vulcan women looked way scarier than Vulcan men.

It was the face. Human women as a whole were softer in the face - rounder, smoother, softer - than Human men. Jim was surprised, therefore, that the angles of Spock's face had actually thinned and sharpened just a little further. Those cheekbones could have cut diamond, and the eyebrows were definitely on a sharper slant than before.

Vulcan PMS had to be the scariest motherfucking thing in the galaxy. No wonder a pacifist species had lasted so long.

Damn sexy, though.

"Jim."

"Huh? What?"

"You are staring. Again."

Oh yeah, and the fact that Spock's voice had gone up an octave and was still like issuing a command to his dick to stand to attention did. Not. Help.

"I...think at this point, you're just going to have to deal," Jim said numbly.

"Fact is," McCoy interrupted, "there's nothing actually wrong."

"Apart from the fact that he's - well! He's a she!" Jim flailed.

Literally. His arms actually rose up and spazzed, and McCoy suddenly got that look in his eye which meant he was considering something involving hyposprays.

"Don't even think about it," Jim ran both hands through his hair. "Okay. I'm going back to the transporter room to help Scotty work out what the hell happened there. Umm...Spock, until we can, er, inform at least the bridge crew - oh fuck it, just take the next twenty-four hours off duty."

"I...yes, sir."

"Actually, I'd like to take the opportunity to get a few readings," McCoy said. "I want to at least get a vague idea of how that can happen and not kill you from sheer shock."

Spock blinked at him, and Jim made a noise that probably shouldn't have been possible for a human voicebox.

"I'm, um, I'm going to, er...yeah. I'm gonna go," Jim flailed again and backed up, still more-or-less gaping at Spock's chest.

"That," McCoy said as Jim crashed out of the Sickbay, "has got to be the strangest reaction to a man finding out he's got a new girlfriend that I've ever seen."

"Indeed, Doctor."

Jim came off-shift no closer to working what on earth had possessed their transporter to turn Spock into a woman when everyone else had come through just fine not ten minutes before him, and, when he buzzed for entrance to Spock's quarters, apparently no more adapted to the situation at hand.

"Enter."

"S'just me," he said, waltzing in almost as if he'd expected everything to be back to normal, only to find Spock sitting at the desk in black boxers and an oversized sleep shirt. And then Jim realised that it was, in fact, one of his sleep shirts, and Spock's now very feminine shoulders, smaller ribcage and reduced height meant that...she...was wearing it a bit more like an indecently short dress than the too-tight shirt it would have been yesterday.

Zoom. Eyes homed straight in on the chest again. Jesus Christ, it was like being thirteen years old all over again. With the instant and inappropriate boners, too.

"Jim?" Spock said hesitantly, rising from the desk chair.

"Uhh, you mind if we conduct this conversation with me just...taking in the view?" Jim said weakly as it became obvious that the quartermaster hadn't gone through supplies yet to find Spock a bra. And Jim Kirk had an Achilles heel the size of his thigh for bouncing breasts. And these things, being brand fucking new, were also bouncy.

Jim's higher cognitive functions began sending their resignation letters.

"...No," Spock said, looking torn between vague amusement and vague anxiety. "This is...undoubtedly a strange situation, and I understand if you do not wish to..."

Jim didn't like that tone of voice, and managed to tear his eyes up from the rack to the face for thirty seconds. "To what?"

"To continue our relationship until I am restored to..."

"Okaaaay, no," Jim said firmly. "You clearly have not noticed the wood that I am sporting right now. Spock. Boobs do to me what your ass bent over the science console does to me and - hang on."

He stepped closer and reached down to squeeze the admittedly softer aforementioned ass in both hands and groaned.

"Oh, shit, you still have that ass. I'm fucked."

Spock took the opportunity to quite promptly drop the awkward-and-anxious look and switch flawlessly to the filthy look. Which apparently Vulcan women were really, really good at. "Or I am," (s)he said lowly, resting both hands on Jim's chest.

"Would you mind terribly," Jim said, very formally, "if I succumbed to my lowly human instincts and ripped what little you are wearing off you again, dragged you into my man-cave by the hair, and fucked you until the mattress gave out?"

"No."

"Awesome," Jim said - and pounced.

Spock was only wearing the shirt and the boxers, and Jim had both of them shucked before they'd even stumbled through into the sleeping area. By the time he tumbled them down onto the bed, Spock was entirely naked, and Jim had both hands around those amazing, beautiful, gorgeous breasts.

They were magnificient breasts. They were much larger than any he'd ever seen on a Vulcan woman before - big, gorgeous globes of malleable beauty. They were much more sensitive as well; when he rolled one nipple between finger and thumb, Spock squirmed under him and barely crushed the gasp in time.

"Heard you," Jim challenged, leaning down for a kiss.

Even the kissing felt different. Weirdly different. The jaw arrangement had shifted, and so had the teeth and tongue - this was like kissing someone else, never mind the usual differences between men and women in the taste and the lack of stubble and the lip texture.

Jim didn't actually like that all that much - felt a little too much like cheating - so he decided to home right in on the prize, and went for the breasts. He caught that same nipple between his teeth and sucked hard until Spock outright moaned (which just made that pole in Jim's pants hard enough to get through the hull) and fine, small hands came to clutch at his hair.

"These are just fucking awesome," Jim breathed, stroking one hand down to the widened hip that had torn Spock's pants on the transporter pad. "Good God, you have no idea..."

"I believe that I do," Spock returned breathlessly, deliberately arching those wondrous hips up into Jim's dick. Which was, by now, actively begging to get out of his pants.

"Fuuuck," Jim groaned and rose up to (very) efficiently strip himself down to his bare skin, before getting back down to business, and those immense breasts. "Jesus, you're so hot..."

Spock said nothing, wrapping his (her! Definitely her!) legs over Jim's hips to draw him closer. Jim hadn't forgotten everything about women, though, and managed to direct one hand away from those Kirk-magnets of breasts to stroke down between legs that still had, sex change aside, whipcord muscles under the skin.

Spock clearly hadn't had the time or inclination to be all girly and shave those legs yet, but rather than being off-putting, the light fuzz of hair (much lighter than usual, all things considered) was surprisingly erotic where it rasped against Jim's bare skin, and by the time he had breached her with two fingers, they were both rocking against each other.

"Jim," Spock was tugging at his hair in a very recognisable gesture, and Jim surged up to wrap his mouth about that surprisingly delicate-and-exposed-looking collarbone and suck a vicious bruise into being as he thrust home.

When Spock arched, back creaking under the strain and letting out a strangled cry, Jim could have smacked himself - in real times, of course, it would be like fucking a virgin.

"Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he babbled, freezing absolutely all movement below his chest. "You okay? Okay?"

"Jim," that was a snarl, and whether he liked kissing or not, he was suddenly kissing when Spock surged up into his grip and stole his breath, ramming those shapely hips into his until he was thrusting again, and powerfully.

"Oh my God," Jim moaned. Her breasts were pressed between them, and he could feel them rubbing against his chest hair and his own nipples. Fuck, that was hot. "Oh my God, God, God, Jesus..."

When Spock forced a hand between them and began to rub surprisingly expert fingers over her clitoris, Jim took the opportunity to lack onto a nipple again, learning very quickly that while teeth got him a smack and a glower from his male partner, this Vulcan female was very much into the biting thing.

Fuck yeah.

And he had forgotten one thing.

From his point of view, giving his male partner an orgasm, and giving his female partner an orgasm, were entirely different things.

When Spock seized up, Jim was on a hair-trigger, and the repeated waves of rippling muscle tugging on his cock were way too much. He felt like he'd exploded, coming with a long, guttural groan that bounced off the walls and thrusting through it, desperately letting that powerful muscle wall just tear the cum right out of him.

"Oh my Gaaaawd," he groaned, and went down, collapsing over Spock like a living blanket, one hand still managing to find its way back to those breasts. "Oh my God, that was fantastic."

Spock's ribs were heaving under his arm, and he slid sideways onto the bed, dragging the surprisingly lithe body into a hug. A surprisingly soft hug, considering she was still all elbows and knees and very bony shoulders - but then, boobs were the best cushion that nature had ever invented.

"...so Scotty says our transporter isn't going to get put back together without fresh supplies, and then we have to reverse, um...this," Jim gestured vaguely at Spock sitting beside him, though it was hardly necessary.

Pike hadn't taken his eyes off Spock since the beginning of the call. Which, considering that they were making the call in Jim's quarters before shift and Spock was wearing Jim's shirt again, was vaguely embarrassing. Because he wouldn't stop staring.

Frankly, Jim was beginning to wonder if he'd had a stroke or something.

"Sir?"

"So," Pike said, and Jim heaved a sigh of relief. "You're telling me that your First Officer is a woman for the foreseeable future? One hundred percent female?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, Kirk. Turn around and head for Starbase 8 and get the engineering department there to have a look at her. And get this sorted. I've never had to file for a change in sex status concerning an officer and I don't intend to start with the Commander."

"Yes, sir."

"And you," Pike jabbed a finger at Spock. "You couldn't possibly have pulled this trick when you were serving on the Reliant with me, could you?"

To Jim's fascination - and mild horror - Spock went green from the neck up. He'd never seen Spock blush before ever - but then...

"Um, sir?"

Pike snorted. "Never you mind, Kirk. Keep the rest of your crew to their correct sexes, if you please. One mysterious - if attractive - newly-turned woman is all we need."

Spock's blush darkened, and Jim vaguely felt a corresponding heat flooding his own face.

"You two look like a couple of schoolkids. Pike out."

Jim turned to Spock and said, "Something you want to tell me?"

"...No."

"I think there is."

"I do not agree, Jim."

"You," Jim leaned right over in his chair - and as Spock rarely, if ever, leaned back from an invasion of personal space, they ended up nose-to-nose, "used to knock boots with Chris Pike. Didn't you?"

"'Knock boots'?"

"Fuck."

She coloured slightly. "That...is not a wholly inaccurate assessment."

"When?"

Spock actually rolled her eyes then. "Before you ever came onto the scene, Jim. Long before. You are hardly my first ill-advised fling."

"I'll give you ill-advised fling," Jim growled, but was rudely pushed back.

"I think not," she said coolly. "Nyota has agreed to take me to obtain a serviceable uniform - and fitting underwear. If I am going to be female for the foreseeable future, then I am at least going to be a comfortable female."

"And when's she...?"

The door chime went, and Jim groaned.

"Damnit," he muttered.

Jim hadn't thought this through.

He really, really hadn't thought this through.

They had quite firmly established that Jim was thoroughly attracted to Spock in both the male and the female form. And Jim had enough trouble with Spock in the male form, in a man's uniform. Spock in the female form, in a female uniform, when said female uniform left those endless legs and most of that glorious ass on display, especially as all that long, glorious hair had been pinned up into what seemed to be braids pulled into a bun and therefore out of the way and not obscuring Jim's view of that ass, and that female form not being so much shorter than the male that bending over the science console was a thing of the past...

Jim was very, very uncomfortable for the first half of alpha shift.

The worst of it was this: Lieutenant Uhura knew, and kept snickering to herself whenever Jim's attention had to be forcibly removed from his First Officer's ass by an exasperated yeoman. She found the whole situation utterly hilarious, and Jim couldn't even scowl at her for it. He'd be rolling on the floor if he were in her shoes too.

Then there was the reaction of the rest of the crew. McCoy's head nurse - Chapel - had all but vanished the moment that everything had happened, and Jim had no idea where or why she'd gone. Chekov, already intimidated beyond belief by the stern First Officer, had gone from merely shy to downright petrified. Nothing scared Chekov more than a pretty girl - a drop-dead gorgeous Vulcan girl who was his commanding officer was apparently the one thing that defied that rule.

And Sulu had practically glued his face to his console to avoid looking at Spock at all.

Frankly, it was a welcome relief when McCoy wandered onto the bridge with a padd and smacked Jim on the back of the head with it.

"Ow! Bones!"

"I need to borrow Spock."

"What for?" Jim demanded, rubbing the back of his head sourly.

"Research," McCoy replied flatly. "I'm taking every opportunity I can to learn everything I can about Vulcan physiology without some diplomat shrugging off attempts from the medical schools. Miss Spock has agreed to let me 'shake my beads and rattles.'"

"You rarely do otherwise, Doctor," Spock returned blandly. She had straightened from her console and was waiting placidly for Jim's response. Thankfully, that ass was thus out of his line of sight.

"All in a good cause, ma'am," McCoy said equally blandly, but it was a statement that had everyone on the bridge staring at him.

"Captain?" Spock prompted.

"Uh, yeah, sure, go. Um, yeah. Spend your shifts...studying stuff," Jim babbled. It wasn't like they really needed a science officer for a trip back to Starbase 8.

He stared at the turbolift as the doors closed, and wondered exactly when Spock and McCoy had started to get along.

Jim walked into his quarters just in time to see Spock's hands come around to fumble with the zip at the back of her dress, and he stepped forward to interrupt.

"Let me," he purred into one unswept ear, and he licked a stripe up to the tip, enjoying the small hint of relaxation that trailed down that rigid Vulcan spine at his attentions.

"Very well," Spock said, voice betraying none of that relaxation whatsoever, and Jim inched the zipper down, trailing wet, sucking kisses along the spine as it was exposed inch by inch.

Vulcan spines looked a little odd from a human perspective - they were pushed further into the back, creating a valley down the back rather than a ladder of ridges like a human spine. The difference wasn't too obvious on males, but the lack of sheer muscle in a female's back, combined with that pronounced dip above the hips, made it prominent now, and Jim filled the small, empty river with his tongue when the zip hit the top of Spock's underwear, licking all the way up to the base of the hairline.

"Hello," he said when he got there, and Spock shivered.

"Hello, Jim."

"Oh good," he patted the elaborate bun. "I was worried you would have cut it by now."

"In the morning, I will..."

"You'll leave it well enough alone," Jim said mildly, beginning to work at the clips and pins until the braids fell loose. He was right: Spock had essentially braided most of the hair and styled it from there. He set to work undoing all the braids and fanning out the strands even as Spock slipped out of the dress entirely, the thick, silky hair pooling in his palms and spilling through his fingers. "This is gorgeous."

"I...thank you?"

"C'mere," Jim tugged her down onto the bed and knelt over her, spreading the long waves out over the pillows and smoothing them out until they created quite possibly the largest halo ever since. Spock was down to her underwear, and Jim fully dressed, and he suddenly felt like he was thieving something from the Heaven that all the old religions had banged on about.

Actually, considering the ears and the eyebrows and the distinct flutter of skin in her side over the heart, perhaps Hell.

Well, Jim Kirk and Hell could get along just fine. No need to fight over it.

"Keep the hair," he said. "I like it."

"It is cumbersome and impractical."

"It's also gorgeous and I swear to God if I catch you in the shower with that all wet and stuck to you, I'll fuck you through the wall into the next quarters."

"Into Mr. Scott's quarters?"

"Sure, if that's which wall we'd be on."

Spock seemed to consider it, even as something else caught Jim's attention and he abandoned the hair for more interesting pursuits.

"Very well, Jim. I will not cut my hair."

"Good," he said, prowling down the bed. "What are these?"

"Jim, I would hope that by your age and vast intellect, you would recognise feet."

"These are not your feet."

"They are most certainly my feet. Now, at any rate."

"These!" Jim cupped the heel of Spock's left foot in the palm of his hand to make his point; his fingers brushed the ball of the foot effortlessly. "These are tiny! You have whacking great huge feet. These are dainty, tiny little things. Therefore, they are not your feet."

"And this is not truly my body," Spock returned. "They are my feet as a woman."

"They're cute."

Jim instantly got the distinct impression that he'd said the wrong thing. Possibly from the low growl that rumbled up from Spock's chest - lower than that growl usually orginated, but perfectly recognisable all the same. Still, Jim Kirk wasn't going to start running away screaming every time a Vulcan woman with long hair and great breasts and cute feet growled at him.

"Don't you start snarling at me," he lectured. "They're adorable. Look, they're tiny. You could have been a ballet dancer if you'd been born a girl, you know. Hey, are Vulcan feet as sensitive as the hands."

"No," Spock snapped, drawing her legs up under her and out of Jim's reach.

"Hey," he pouted, reaching for her feet again. "No fa-oof."

She pushed him right off the bed when he made a grab for her left ankle, and followed him down to pin him there, holding him down with all that formidable Vulcan strength, pinning him at the shoulders and knees with her own hands and knees, and still making a very light growl that rippled up through her chest.

Uh, hello? Mostly-naked, very-hot woman, pinning you down and growling at you?

Instant. Boner.

She tilted her head and glanced down at the tent in his pants, and Jim grinned. "That's what you and your adorable feet do to me," he said.

"I see," she returned, and sat back on her haunches.

Then she tore his pants open, shoved her hands inside, and Jim forgot all about her feet, adorable or otherwise.

Jim was halfway across the mess hall when - well, he couldn't remember what. Perhaps somebody gasped, or someone called out, but whatever the reason, he whirled to see Spock, having just stood from the table she'd been sitting at, arch her back in an uncomfortable position and go down.

Hard.

Jim didn't even think about it - he was across the room in half a second, arms out, in time to catch the dark head and slender shoulders in his arms and cushion the (remarkably graceful) fall of a Vulcan in a dead faint.

"Spock? Spock!" he shouted, shifting his grip until her head lolled in the crook of his elbow. He felt for a pulse, and found it hammering away. It seemed normal for a Vulcan, but then, he wasn't a doctor. And she was out; he glanced up at the surrounding faces. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know, Captain, she just...went," was Uhura's wide-eyed and worried explanation. "She didn't say a word; just went."

"Alright," Jim bit his lip. "Alright, I'll get her to Sickbay..."

Only, when he slid his arm beneath Spock's knees to lift her, he was faced with a small problem.

Vulcan women were lighter than Vulcan men, and in roughly a similar ratio to that between your average Human man and women - but considering how much Vulcan men weighed, it still meant that Jim was probably only now boxing within his own range. So when he attempted to lift Spock, it was still much more than was comfortable, and his biceps groaned with the strain.

"Okay, er, someone help me get her to Sickbay," he amended hastily.

"Here, laddie," Scotty bent at the knees and slid his arms beneath Spock's knees and shoulders, taking the limp body easily from Jim. "I'll carry the lass; ye gan ahead to Dr. McCoy."

In any other situation, Jim would have demanded to know how in the hell it had transpired that his rather slovenly chief engineer could best him in a weightlifting contest, but even Jim's macho pride admitted it was not the time and backed down.

For the moment.

Dr. McCoy took one look at the odd trio that barrelled into his Sickbay and pointed them wordlessly to the nearest biobed, snatching the nearest tricorder off a shelf and recalibrating it to handle Spock's physiology as he strode across the bay.

"What happened?" he asked briskly.

"She fainted," Jim stuttered. "She just...went over in the mess hall, a couple of minutes ago."

The tricorder was whirring and McCoy nodded. "Alright. You two can go."

"But..." Jim said, even as Scotty disappeared without a murmur, presumably to find Uhura.

"Jim, out. I have more important things to do than field a hundred and twenty questions with you."

Jim bit his lip, looking at Spock's still form anxiously.

"Jim. Go. Right now, I'm reading some hormonal changes and a low blood sugar level, both of which could be the cause of the faint. Nothing serious. Go on, git."

"Call me when she wakes up," Jim ordered, slipping out before he could change his mind.

McCoy snorted. "She. A goblin's still a goblin."

They had just received notification of the completion of docking procedures at Starbase 8 when McCoy called, and Jim was halfway towards the turbolift before he'd finished speaking. He jogged at a light pace to Sickbay, trying not to fuss - Spock hated it when he fussed - and stepped all to prepared to -

What the fuck?

The Sickbay was more or less devoid of life, the nurses all off-duty in light of the fact that, bar Spock, nobody was sick. And so it was just Spock and McCoy, and...

And was Spock was sitting up on the biobed, uniform dress unzipped to the waist and black bra on full, unashamed display, while McCoy had his hands all over her...

"What the fuck is going on here?" Jim exploded.

McCoy jumped a mile; Spock didn't so much as twitch. "Jim," she greeted evenly. "As I am feeling quite well, Dr. McCoy decided to continue our investigations from earlier today, regarding the comparative sensitivity to telepathic contact through touch of males and females."

"So I can, what, walk in here and see...see that?" Jim snapped.

Spock's face didn't change in the slightest, but the atmosphere got distinctly cooler, and McCoy went red in the face.

"Now you just wait a goddamn minute, Jim..."

"What in the hell did you think you were...?"

"Enough."

Spock didn't shout - Spock never shouted, but her voice sliced through the brewing argument as easily as it had as a man. Easier, in fact, for neither had had time to get used to her new voice and ignore it yet.

"That is quite enough," she said, zipping her dress back up and rising from the biobed. "I will go and assist Mr. Scott with the repairs to the transporter. I trust, Doctor, that I am released from the Sickbay?"

"Yeah, yeah, you go right ahead, darlin'," McCoy drawled, his eyes never leaving Jim's face, even when it twitched at the endearment.

The moment the doors closed, McCoy pulled Jim to sit on the biobed in Spock's place.

"Alright. What in the hell was that jealous fit about?"

Jim puffed up, then caught the scowl on the doctor's face and deflated. "Sorry," he muttered. "Sorry, I just...I'm..."

"You're what, Jim?"

"I'm nervous."

"Come again?"

"I'm," Jim gestured at the doctor. "You two get on so much better when he's a woman. When he's she. You almost like each other, and I guess...I guess I just go a bit caveman because he's my girlfriend now."

"What, you gonna start pissing to mark your territory now?" McCoy drawled. "A goblin's a goblin, Jim, and that one is yours. Woman or man, Spock isn't going to budge an inch from you and you know it."

"Yeah, but...other people might budge closer to him."

"Uh-huh. Like me?"

Jim groaned. "Bones, I didn't mean..."

"Yeah you did," McCoy said. "You didn't like another man near your girl. And you do when he's a man, too, you get downright pissy when we got diplomats in town who take a shine to him. But you've never seen me as a threat before, Jim. Why now?"

"Oh, I dunno, you're straight?" Jim quipped.

"Uh-huh..."

"And then, you guys get on so much better when Spock's a woman, and..."

"And whatever cracked up notion you got goin' in your head, I am still your best friend," McCoy said gravely. "Jim, you listen to me. I would never make a move on a girl of yours, and I certainly wouldn't do it behind your back like that."

"Yeah," Jim sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know, Bones. M'sorry."

"Okay, kid. Go find your goblin and patch it up."

"Wait, why did Spock faint?"

"Hell if I know," McCoy shrugged. "Never thought I'd ask this, but did you have sex with her? As a her?"

"Yeah, couple of times."

"Condom?"

Jim froze, and McCoy sighed heavily.

"Alright then. Whoa, kid, don't panic. Might be nothin'. I took some readings and it doesn't look like anything's going on down there, but Spock's hormones are goin' wild. Might just be a female thing, but I don't know enough about Vulcans to know. I don't know how they reproduce, if the females menstruate, anything. I'll keep taking readings every couple of days until something comes out clearer."

"Oh fuck," Jim breathed.

"Don't worry about it for now. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now go on. Now and find your humourless shadow and smooth things over."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll..."

"And Jim? Condoms."

"Fuck off!"

Jim found Spock half an hour later in his quarters, changing into - of all things - sweatpants and one of his workout shirts.

"What are you - did Scotty fix the transporter?"

"Yes," Spock said. "He believes he has found the problem and has tested it on several of the gendered plants from the botany lab. They all returned as the opposite gender."

"So...I get my boyfriend back?"

Spock turned from the dresser, and Jim crossed the room to hug her. "Sorry about that scene," he said into the thick, elaborate coils of hair. "I just...went a bit caveman there, seeing another man's hands on you."

"It was not a surprise."

"No?" Jim blinked, pulling back.

"Jim, you are quite easily one of the most possessive humans that I have ever met," Spock returned dryly. "I find it difficult to believe that you would overcome trivial jealousies because I was in female form."

"Okay, fair enough."

"Regardless, it is rather...endearing."

"You think I'm cute."

"I said no such thing," Spock said stiffly, and Jim grinned.

"Course you didn't. So...one last go before it's over?"

"I beg your - Jim!" the protest was swallowed by an all-consuming kiss (okay, so maybe the mouth differences weren't too bad) and two large human hands, one opting for the left buttock and the other for the right breast. Spock permitted a minute (perhaps two) of mindless kissing against the dresser before pushing Jim back and pulling her composure down around her like a shield. "We have to go."

"Yeah, okay. Guess I get to go back to being gay," Jim grinned.

"You...will not mind?"

"Long as I've got you, Spock, I really couldn't give a shit," Jim said casually. "Although, wow. If you ever want to try that again, I really wouldn't mind a go at those boobs again."

Spock refrained from smacking him, or even rolling her eyes, merely turning on her heel and marching out of the cabin.

"You're barefoot," Jim said as they entered the turbolist.

"I do not wish for my feet to attempt to inhabit shoes several times smaller than necessary."

"I'm going to miss your cute feet," Jim said, sneaking a quick finger-kiss before the doors opened and they headed for the transporter room at a brisk pace. One of the engineers from the starbase gave the pair of them an incredibly odd look, but was studiously ignored. Vulcans were good at that.

"Ach, there ye are!" Scotty crowed from the console. "All ready for ye, lassie."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott," Spock said, stepping up onto the transporter pad as if nothing odd were going to happen. Jim reached up briefly for another finger-kiss, paying no attention to their surroundings, before stepping back and nodding to the engineer.

"This had better work," he murmured as the lights came up.

In a flash, Spock disappeared and the transporter whined down for a moment before flaring back to life.

"X or Y?" McCoy quipped, and Jim elbowed him in the side.

A tall form in sweatpants and white shirt rematerialised, and Jim took in the feet first - large, bony, ungaily, tough feet that could walk over broken glass and be just fine. Frankly, unattractive feet attached to a highly attractive Vulcan.

He looked up into dark, composed eyes, and grinned.

"Welcome back, Mr. Spock."