“I want to go to Riverside for December.”

Spock paused in reading the missive he’d been sent by the Federation. He glanced up from his PADD. “What was that, Jim?’

He had, of course, heard what Jim said, but he was still having trouble processing the idea. Iowa was cold in December and sometimes even had…

“Snow, Spock.”

He stared at his husband.

Who smiled.

Jim sat in his favorite chair, sipping at a glass of brandy in front of a fire in their San Francisco apartment. It was November and to Spock it seemed pleasantly cozy there without having to add something like cold and frost in Iowa.

“I do not understand.”

“Of course you do.”

Of course he did. He knew what Jim said. OF course. But that didn’t mean he agreed with the idea.

“My ambassadorial duties…”

“Can be done from the farmhouse. You aren’t due to go off for any conferences or meetings until after the first of the year, Spock.”


“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas. Like the ones I grew up with.”

Spock opened his mouth.

“The trees glisten with that white stuff. Like sparkling diamonds.”

“The temperature drops to freezing,” Spock said dryly.

Jim chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, it does. Sweetheart, you don’t ever have to leave the house if you don’t want to. I’ll happily pamper you and allow you to take up the sofa wrapped in luxurious blankets and sipping tea and eating sugar cookies as you please.”

Spock had to admit that did sound rather nice.  Perhaps his little Vulcan heart was melting to the idea.

He opened his mouth.

“We leave in the morning.”


Jim smiled slyly and sipped his brandy. “I figured you’d agree. It’ll be great, Spock. You’ll love it. And I’ll take care of all the outdoor stuff. Firewood, shoveling snow, whatever.”

Spock inwardly sighed. “Very well, Jim.”

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

He shook his head and went back to his missive, but he could not concentrate, and instead got up to pack whatever passed for warm clothes in his wardrobe. He packed for Jim too.