I couldn’t really find a satisfactory picture, so you get snow

Photo by Tobias Bju00f8rkli on Pexels.com

Sort of a continuation of the one in November when Jim went outside when Sam arrived and Spock brought him his a coat

“Dinner is almost ready.”

Jim bit back an irritated, snarky ‘I’m not hungry’ and instead managed to grumble, “Okay.”

He thought his mom would go away then and leave him alone. But though she might not have been born a Kirk she somehow managed to get the Kirk stubbornness, nonetheless.

He was sitting on a raised log by the barn. As long as Jim could remember this same stupid log had been in the same place. It had been used as a sort of bench for decades. His mom sat beside him instead of going back into the house where it was warm and she belonged.

A short time ago he’d sent his frozen husband inside to get warm.

“You know it wouldn’t hurt you to try to get along with your brother. You’re both adults now.”

“I didn’t know turning eighteen made all the pain go away.”

“Jim.”

He sighed. “I’m trying.”

“Not very hard.”

He shot her a look. “What do you want from me?”

“What do you want from me?  He’s my son too. What was I supposed to do? Tell him not to come? He’s hurting and he needs a place to stay right now. He’s going through some serious stuff. And what was I supposed to tell you? No, Jim, don’t come for the holidays, your brother will be here.”

“No. I don’t know. It’s just…every time I look at his stupid face I just want to punch him.”

“So punch him.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “I can’t punch him.”

“Sure you can. Maybe it’ll help.” She shrugged. “He might punch you back.”

“That’ll go over real well with Spock.”

“The Great Christmas Fight of Stardate 2266,” she cracked.

Jim laughed, he couldn’t help himself. And yeah she’d intended that. Moms were manipulative that way.

“Come on inside. I made all your favorites.”

“All of them?”

“Yep. And I have eggnog and…brandy.”

Jim smiled.

“And I’m pretty sure I saw Spock taking a bite of a chocolate bar.”

He rose from the log, grabbed her hand to pull her up, and put his arm around her. “Okay, Mother mine. Let’s go inside.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“I know. Merry Christmas.”