A special pleasure of being captain came from the smart "Yes, sir!" that usually followed issuing an order. Never mind that, all too often, three of Jim's closest associates uttered those words in a manner that was more accurately deemed smartass than strictly smart. Or that his Chief Engineer specialized in saying them in that dour, doubtful Scottish brogue. The rest of the crew were appropriately awed — well, except maybe for Sulu (Jim sometimes got the feeling Hikaru might be silently laughing at him) — he didn't need adulation from his friends.

Except one.

He looked at the Enterprise's most recent addition and grinned. The young crewmember gave him a coy smile.

"Jim," his first officer intoned warningly without even looking up from the PADD (full of reports the captain should have been reviewing) he was perusing, "please remember your place. You are captain and should behave as such."

Kirk rolled his eyes, then winked conspiratorially. The object of his charm had only been aboard a year, but already could be counted on to respond as the captain anticipated — giggling softly and wriggled a well-padded bottom.

He had not expected the serious frown and foul assault to his nostrils that followed.

"I told you feeding him pureed chickpeas and spinach would have adverse results, Jim," Spock reminded him, his voice dry. Still without looking up from his PADD, the half-Vulcan sent the diaper bag at his feet skittering across Kirk's quarters with a tap of his booted toe.

The captain of the Enterprise didn't even try to argue. Spock had, in fact told him just that. And he'd also warned his friend in no uncertain terms that if the child's mother ever discovered Kirk had given her son the forbidden treat, Spock had no intention of sharing the blame.

"Not that your mommy won't punish him, anyway," Jim whispered as he slipped the bag's strap over one shoulder and cuddled the baby to his chest with his free hand.

"Sa-ba soba," chortled the child.

"That's right, Boots!" Kirk stood up and headed for his bedroom. "Daddy's gonna sleep on the sofa tonight!"

"My son," Spock called after him, "has a good Vulcan name. Nyota and I prefer that you use it."

.

.

Jim rummaged through the diaper bag single-handedly until he found a changing pad. Laying that on his bed, he gently placed the bundle of quarter-Vulcan joy on top.

"Doots dessy," observed the kid.

"Yeah," Kirk told him, wrinkling his nose. "You're pretty smelly, too."

Boots wrinkled his own little nose and nodded solemnly. "Sange Doots!" he ordered.

"All right! Sometimes, you're as bossy as your daddy and mommy. You know that?"

"Sange Doots!"

Jim rummaged through the diaper bag, discarding outfit after outfit, mumbling about Spock's and Uhura's "terrible taste" in baby fashion before finally giving up. Walking over to his own chest of drawers, he pulled out a few tiny pieces then came back to do the dirty work.

Work that turned out to be far dirtier than he'd expected.

"Ugh!" Kirk exclaimed when he managed to separate the baby from his uni-suit and diaper. Even after using every wipe Spock had packed, the kid wasn't quite free of odiferous muck. "I think this calls for a trip to the 'fresher, Bootsie. What you think?"

"Dlean Doots!" And then he added, "Dlean Dim!"

Jim couldn't have agreed more.

.

.

Fifteen minutes later, when a damp Kirk returned to the sitting room dressed in a red and brown and black teddy, blue and black and greenish socks and boots (the footwear, not the baby), carrying a damp Boots (the baby, not the footwear), who was similarly attired in a red and brown and black uni-suit, blue and black and greenish booties, but no boots (the footwear), Spock was still steadily making his way through the reports Jim should have been working on himself.

"Doots dlean!" declared the kid when his father (finally) looked up from his PADD.

Spock came as close to frowning as Kirk had ever seen him since… well, since the half-Vulcan had tried to murder him on the bridge nearly six years before.

"Sa-fu," Spock said, "your name is—" But just then, the door to Kirk's quarters whooshed open, and a slender figure in red and black came hurtling in.

"My baby!" Uhura exclaimed, running to her son's rescue and raking her eyes over his tiny outfit. She looked over at her husband, her expression dangerous. "Spinach and chickpeas?"

"I warned the captain," Spock said, the fear audible in his voice.

"Sa-Ba soba," Boots told her.

Uhura smiled at her son, saying in a frighteningly cheerful voice, "That's right, sweetie! Baba is sleeping on the sofa tonight!"

She didn't acknowledge Spock's barely audible "Sa-mekh would prefer to sleep in the bed with Ko-mekh tonight" before turning her Death Glare on Jim.

The captain found that he was also feeling a little fearful.

"Kirk!" she spat. "Didn't we tell you he's not supposed to have spinach?"

"But, it's his favorite," Jim protested feebly. Boots grabbed his ear and yanked.

"The havoc it wreaks on his… diapers is bad enough," she went on, like he hadn't even spoken, "but the interference of oxalic acid with iron and calcium absorption could be dangerous!"

"I made certain he ingested several sections of Citrus reticulata prior to bringing him to the captain's quarters, ashal-veh."

Uhura turned and glared at her husband again for a few seconds, but apparently decided he was worth forgiving because the next thing Kirk knew, she was beaming, then covering Spock's face and neck with kisses.

Over her slender shoulder, Spock raised a smug-looking eyebrow.

"Fine," she said once she was done wasting affection on the Vulcan, "you don't have to sleep on the sofa."

Jim wished he could be similarly rewarded.

"Not a chance, Kirk," she said, almost as if she'd read his thoughts.

"I was only trying to look out for you three," he protested, donning his famously devastating smile.

"How about you 'look out for us' by getting Spock and me reassigned like we requested more than a year ago? We're raising a baby on a starship for the sake of the gods!"

"Hey, it worked on the Marshal Field."

She turned the Death Glare up a notch.

Undeterred, Kirk forged on. "Oh. You meant that. I thought it was the pregnancy hormones talking."

Uhura rolled her eyes.

Spock sighed.

Boots giggled.

"Dim soba," he pronounced.

"Yeah, Bootsie," Jim agreed sadly. "Mommy's mad at me." He let an exaggerated hang-dog expression take over his features, and the baby squealed with even more laughter.

"Dim soba!" he shrieked.

When Kirk looked up, even Uhura was smiling at him.

"We'd miss you, too," she conceded as she headed towards the door. "Dim."

Spock meekly followed after his wife and child.

Finis!

A/N: The third (and final) chapter of the fourth (and final) "Sock And Underoosa adventure." Thanks for reading, y'all!

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its associated characters and concepts are still not mine after all this time.