NOTE: All rights in this work are hereby given to Paramount and the others who own Star Trek.

This is part four of the Changing Times Series (the others are Unquiet Times, Unsettling Times, and Trying Times), and takes place toward the end of and after the first five-year mission. Spock and Uhura ask Jim for a favor.

The day started like any other. Jim woke two minutes before his alarm was scheduled to go off, and he showered and had breakfast in his quarters while he skimmed last night's logs.

Day 1738 of their five-year mission had ended well - meaning there had been no red alerts, no sudden encounters with ships their sensors couldn't detect, nothing at all to indicate that they were on the most ambitious exploratory mission Starfleet had ever devised.

They were on the last leg of that mission, Jim reminded himself, with only three months left before their return to Earth and whatever Starfleet might have in store for them afterward.

He finished his coffee and started for the bridge. He hadn't allowed himself to think about what would happen after the mission while they were still in the middle of it, but now they were heading back to known space and, while Jim knew better than to count his chickens before they'd hatched, he allowed himself the luxury of imagination.

Some things, like promotions and reassignments, were a given. Jim chose not to think about how his heart clenched at the thought of not having his crew with him, of looking to the helm and seeing someone other than Sulu, or the communications station without Uhura, or a non-Scottish voice answering when he called Engineering.

It was the way of things, Jim knew, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He shoved those thoughts aside, settling into his normal demeanor as the turbolift doors swooshed open to welcome him to the bridge.

Of course Spock had arrived before him, though he sat at the science station rather than in the center seat, so Jim approached the gamma shift command duty officer.

"Status?" he asked because it was required. The logs had already given him the answer.

"OFS, sir," she replied.

Jim chuckled at the old acronym, but understood the sarcastic intent. "Better bored than dead, Commander. You're relieved."

"Aye, sir. Hope your shift's boring, too."

Jim chuckled again as he took the center seat. A moment later, Spock approached.

"Good morning, Mr. Spock," he said, just to see whether Spock would remind him, again, that technically there was no morning in space.

He was slightly disappointed when Spock said only, "I trust you rested well, Captain."

"Well enough," Jim replied. Then, "Something on your mind?"

"A minor matter," Spock said. Jim waited for clarification, because that could cover everything from a hangnail to a weakening in the warp core. "Will you join Nyota and me for dinner tonight?"

It was the first time they'd issued an invitation like that, and Jim kept the surprise off his face, but he knew Spock felt it through their bond. Spock's lips twitched, just briefly, and Jim felt amusement in return.

"Is there a special occasion I've forgotten?" Jim asked lightly.

"Negative."

Jim felt Spock's reluctance to discuss the matter further in public, and chose just to nod. "Be happy to."

"Her quarters, 1745. She requested attire other than our uniforms." With those pronouncements, Spock returned to his station.

At least this shift offered the puzzle, however slight, of figuring out why Spock and Uhura might want to have dinner with him, and why she'd requested he come out of uniform. The only other time that any of them had specified no uniforms was when he'd asked her to help save Spock's life during his first pon farr.

There were still a few years left before the next one, so that couldn't be her reason. Still, Jim couldn't help wondering if she'd meant for him to associate the invitation with that time, and if so, what further associations he was supposed to make.

Jim grinned to himself. He liked a challenge.

By the time his shift ended and he'd handed off command to his beta shift relief, Jim hadn't figured out what the motive behind the dinner invitation might be. The only way to find out appeared to be just to show up.

His Iowa upbringing rebelled at the thought of showing up to dinner without a gift for his hostess. His Starfleet practicality reminded him that there was nothing available from the replicators that Spock and Uhura couldn't get for themselves - except, maybe, that bottle of single-barrel bourbon Bones had somehow acquired the last time they were at a starbase.

Bones would kill him if he borrowed even a couple of shots of that bourbon, though, and Jim blew out a breath. Just this once, he told himself. Just this once, show up empty-handed, and get them each something next time you're in port, even if it's back on Earth.

He changed from his uniform into more casual clothing, ran a comb through his hair and brushed his teeth. A glance at the clock told him he still had plenty of time before he needed to head for the junior officers' quarters. He sorted through his personal communications - he could answer the message from his mother quickly, but the one from his elder counterpart would take a while longer.

Jim sent the message to his mother, and would not admit how relieved he was that he could leave now and not be too early for dinner.

Jim wasn't surprised when Spock was the one who answered. Jim grinned anyway. "Hey, Spock."

"Jim." Spock stepped aside to let him in, and Jim couldn't help a quick glance around. He'd never been to Uhura's quarters before. He wasn't surprised to find them neat and orderly, but whether that was her natural preference or a side effect of dating Spock he wasn't certain. He'd bet that the colorful throws and artwork were all hers, though.

"Thanks for coming, Jim." He blinked at Uhura's use of his given name as she came from the tiny kitchenette. Her expression faltered briefly, and he could only think that she'd read something in his own that she didn't like. She recovered quickly, and when she spoke again, her tone was more serious. "Tonight's not about captain and commander and lieutenant. It's about Jim and Spock and Nyota."

Jim's gut clenched. He'd used those words to her, years before, when they'd had to join forces to save Spock's life during pon farr.

"It's not -" Jim began, then stopped, swallowed, and started again. "I thought there were still a few years to go before that happens again."

"Three point eight," Spock corrected.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that," Uhura said.

"You meant to imply something, though," Jim observed.

Her gaze flicked to Spock for a moment before returning to meet his. "Just that there are things we want to talk about, and those things are personal."

Which raised more questions than it answered, but Jim relaxed anyway. "Sorry I don't have a hostess gift for you."

Spock frowned. "A hostess gift?"

"A human tradition, at least in Iowa," Jim said. "When someone invites you to their house for dinner, you bring a small gift to say thank you."

"It's all right, Jim," Uhura - Nyota - said. "It's not like we have room for much, anyway. Please, sit down. Spock will pour the wine."

"Wine, Spock?" Jim asked as he took the seat nearest him.

"Nyota assures me it will go well with the meal she has planned."

"I was more surprised that you have it at all."

"I picked it up on the last shore leave," Nyota said. "I've been saving it for a special occasion."

"Note the stardate," Jim said to Spock. "She's willing to concede that I'm part of a special occasion."

Spock's lips twitched, and Jim could feel amusement radiating down their bond. "I am certain her concession is somewhat unwilling."

Jim laughed and accepted a glass from Spock. "Fair enough. In any case, thanks, Nyota."

After that, it was easy to slide into casual conversation over pasta primavera and garlic bread, though Jim suspected that they were the only three people on board ship who would consider comparisons of classical Vulcan and human literature and music part of a casual conversation. Or a heated discussion of the causes and consequences of the Chinese Implosion in the late twenty-first century.

Jim couldn't remember the last meal he'd enjoyed so much.

Still, he noticed that Uhura's expression turned pensive more than once, especially when she wasn't the one debating a point with him.

"So," Jim said later, after the remains of the replicated tiramisu had been cleared away and the three of them sat around the table with the last of the Deltan wine, "even if I couldn't feel something from him -" he nodded at Spock "- it's clear you're antsy about something, Nyota. Give."

She glanced at Spock, then met Jim's gaze. "Two things."

"Two things, then." Jim gave her what he intended to be an encouraging smile.

They shared another glance, and then Spock's sense through their bond shifted, and Jim raised an inquiring eyebrow at his first officer.

"Will you perform our marriage ceremony?"

Jim blinked. "Marriage? Not bonding?"

Spock's lips twitched. "As you are not a telepath, you could not perform a bonding ceremony."

"No, of course not," Jim said. "What I meant was, you're getting married, not bonded?"

"I'm psi-null, Jim," Nyota said. "We can't bond, not even with a mind healer's help."

Jim blinked. That explained why it had taken both of them to deal with Spock's pon farr. He knew humans as a rule weren't actively psychic, but most had some capacity for it, even if only receptively. True nulls were rare, and Jim couldn't help thinking that it was just one more mark of an uncaring universe that Spock had fallen in love with one. He shoved that thought aside to focus on happier things.

"And here I thought if you ever got married, I'd be best man," Jim quipped. "Of course I will - but I don't have any authority to do it once we're docked."

"We do not wish an elaborate event," Spock said. "But it will bring us pleasure to be married before our friends by my t'hy'la."

Nyota laughed. "He means thank you."

Jim grinned back. "I know." Then, "Second thing?"

Nyota's smile faded, and she looked - Jim frowned a little. Why would she look apprehensive? He glanced at Spock and sent a thread of inquiry down their bond. Spock met his gaze, but Jim had the sense that he was waiting for Nyota to speak.

Jim turned to her, curiosity turning to puzzlement when he saw her worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "Nyota?"

"We want to have a child," she blurted. "But - you know Spock's a hybrid?"

Her use of the biological term caught Jim's attention. He'd grown up in Iowa; he knew the technical meaning of the term - and the probable consequences. Still, he looked over at Spock when he asked for confirmation.

"You're sterile."

Spock nodded, once. "A number of tests were conducted in my youth, all with the same result. And after pon farr, there can be no doubt."

Jim blew out a breath. "That sucks, if you want kids."

"We believe we have found an acceptable solution."

Jim got it immediately. "Sperm donor. Human or Vulcan?"

"It is unlikely that a Vulcan would see the logic in producing another hybrid, who would most probably also be sterile."

"Makes sense," Jim said. "I'm sure you'll find -"

"Jim."

The seriousness of Nyota's tone when she cut him off drew Jim's attention to her.

She was equally serious when she added, "We want it to be you."

For long moments, Jim could only stare at her. Then he looked to Spock.

"We would not have anyone else," Spock informed him, and Jim had to swallow a lump down his throat at the sincerity he heard from both Spock's tone and presence in his mind.

"I'm - honored," he said finally. "I'll stop by medbay in the morning, and -"

"Jim."

Again Nyota cut him off, but this time he frowned at her. "What? If that's what you want -"

"It is," she said. "It's just -"

She broke off, and Jim read embarrassment in her expression - only that couldn't be right, because they'd been through far too many situations during their time together for a simple conversation to be embarrassing, whatever its topic.

She flicked a glance at Spock, and Jim watched his first officer straighten even more than he already was. "I believe the correct phrasing is, the child should be conceived by the traditional method."

Jim blinked. Again. Then he could only ask, "How is that even logical?"

"If the child were to be Vulcan, that would be an appropriate question," Spock answered.

"But it's going to be human," Nyota finished. "And I'd rather tell a human child that we wanted him or her so badly that … Jim?"

Jim was grinning madly - and completely inappropriately. "Sorry, Nyota, there's a reason you always lose on poker night. You're lousy at bullshitting."

"I'm not," she protested. "At least, not completely. That's part of it."

"What's the rest?" Jim asked when she didn't continue. "I should know."

Finally, she blew out a breath. "I don't want it to be … clinical, all tests and turkey basters."

Spock, it seemed, hadn't heard that expression before. "I am unfamiliar with a device called a turkey baster. What is its purpose?"

"To baste turkeys," Jim answered, surprised when Nyota echoed him. Then he grinned at Spock's expression. "You walked right into that one."

"Perhaps," Spock conceded. "What is the connection between a turkey and -"

"Okay, they don't really use turkey basters," Nyota said. "I think. But they have to get the sperm inside me somehow." She took a breath, then met Jim's gaze with her own. "We want this child to love, and I find the idea of starting something for love with - sorry for the term - clinical efficiency… inconsistent and illogical."

Jim turned that over in his mind briefly, and concluded that it made a certain, human female sense. He wasn't entirely surprised to feel Spock's presence in his mind grow hesitantly curious at the conclusion, and he reminded Spock that this had less to do with logic and more to do with the woman he knew and how she felt about what she wanted.

"I get it," he said quietly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Nyota answered, simple and direct.

One down. Jim turned to Spock. "Are you sure?"

"As Nyota is the one to conceive and carry the child, her -"

Jim cut him off. "Truth, Spock. You're asking me to have sex with the woman who is your wife in all but name, and she'll be that, too, before we get back to Earth. Are you sure?"

He lowered every mental shield he'd ever learned how to erect, not pushing, but in this moment, he had to be able to read every nuance of expression or emotion. Not that Spock couldn't shield from him, but Jim had to make every effort he could.

Spock lowered his own shields before he said, "I am certain, Jim."

Jim heard what Spock didn't say equally clearly. I could not trust anyone else with this.

Jim blew out a breath. "Okay, then. I guess it's decided."

"When do you want to start?" Nyota asked in a tone that was probably supposed to be businesslike, but sounded nervous.

"Not for a while," Jim answered. "Maybe not until we get back to Earth."

"What is the reason for your delay?" Spock asked.

"There're more than one. But the important one is this." He faced Nyota fully before he continued, "I've spent the last five years thinking of you as a sister - as my brother's … well, wife. That pretty much shut down any sexual desire."

Nyota blinked, her eyebrows drawing together. "But, you flirt with me -"

"Shamelessly," Jim agreed. "Because I know it's not going anywhere. Besides, it's mostly routine now, even for you, isn't it?"

"Yes," she admitted slowly.

"So I need to shift how I think of you," Jim said. "Look at you like a woman I can want, not a woman off-limits to me."

"That - makes sense," Nyota said finally. "And … I might have to do something similar."

Something in Jim relaxed, however fractionally, and he summoned a grin. "In the meantime, how about we discuss wedding plans? Captain's dining room or observation lounge?"