There won’t be a flash tomorrow, so this counts as your Christmas Flash
“I wish Daddy was here.” Peter’s bottom lip trembled as Jim looked down at his three year old nephew. There were still tear tracks on his chubby cheeks.
“Me too, kiddo.”
In truth, Jim was on the brink of tears himself.
The last twenty-four hours had been a disaster.
Jim was currently in Riverside tasked with taking care of his three-year-old nephew while his brother Sam was on assignment for Section 31.
And Jim was waiting to see if the Enterprise would go out on a second five-year mission. If they did, would he retain the same crew, most importantly Spock. He wasn’t sure, considering Jim had confessed his romantic feelings for Spock at the end of the first mission. For the last few months of that mission, he and Spock had been engaged in a “sex for pleasure only” affair, or so they had insisted on calling it. Wasn’t supposed to involve emotion. Only for Jim, it always had.
He’d gone and cocked it up but admitting this to Spock. And Spock had left to go to New Vulcan.
So, when Sam had asked Jim about watching Peter, he had agreed.
Peter’s mom had passed after an illness.
Whatever. All of this was the lead up to the disaster of the day. There’d been a fire in the living room at the farmhouse, thanks to the Christmas tree, and though the whole house hadn’t been destroyed, the recommendation had been that they spend the next two weeks away from the farmhouse to avoid smoke inhalation and water damage. It would take that long to make everything livable.
So here it was Christmas Eve and he and Peter were about to check into a hotel in the city proper.
Jim guessed it wasn’t the worst Christmas ever. But maybe it was close. He had no gifts for the little tyke either. They’d gone up with the Christmas tree.
After getting them settled into a hotel room that included a kitchenette, Jim asked Peter, “What would you like to eat for supper?”
“Chicken nuggets! And ice cream.”
There was a twenty-four hour café attached to the hotel, so they went there. Fortunately he was able to get the chicken nuggets and ice cream for Peter.
“Will Santa find us?” Peter asked as he dipped a nugget into ketchup.
Yuck, Jim thought.
And his heart sank. What was he supposed to tell the little guy?
He had notified Bones what happened. And Bones had offered his sympathy, but he was in Georgia with his own kin so there wasn’t much he could do.
And most stores were already closed so how was he supposed to get anything for the child?
He needed a Christmas miracle.
“Well.” Jim smiled. “How’s the chicken?”
He himself had chosen meatloaf with mashed potatoes.
“Yummy.”
“Good. As far Santa…well. I think he’ll find us eventually, but it might be hard tonight or by Christmas. It might be when we go back home.”
“Okay.” But he looked so sad and forlorn that Jim’s heart just broke.
He was a terrible uncle.
After they finished eating, Jim took Peter around the area to look at Christmas lights, which did cheer both of them up considerably.
By the time he got back to the hotel, he had to carry Peter, as the boy had fallen asleep. He was surprised to see a wreath pinned to the outside of his hotel room.
Maybe something the hotel did?
He opened the door and stepped in carrying Peter. It was then he noticed the small artificial tree next to the kitchenette. It had been decorated with hundreds of white lights and little red bows. Beside it stood a very familiar Vulcan.
“Spock?”
“Merry Christmas, Jim.”
“How—”
“Leonard contacted me. It was not easy, but I made it in time.” Spock walked over to gaze upon Jim’s zonked out nephew. “Perhaps you should put him to bed before we place the presents under the tree.”
His breath caught in his throat. “You brought presents for Peter?”
“Indeed. Isn’t that expected by a child of his age for Christmas?”
Jim nodded, suddenly feeling tears sting his eyes. “Yeah. Let me put him down.”
Jim walked over to the bed and drew back the covers, setting Peter down on the bed, and covering him. He was very happy to see the boy remained sleeping. All the better to surprise him in the morning.
Jim then turned and went back to where Spock waited. The Vulcan was holding on to a Santa sack.
“I can’t believe you did all this.”
“Clearly you were in need of assistance, Captain.”
He swallowed heavily. “Yeah, I was, but…”
Spock glanced away. “In truth, I was coming to see you anyway, so it was fortunate Leonard contacted me in time to at least save some part of your holiday.”
“You were? Why?”
Spock looked at him again. “Because I find that I too had emotional involvement.”
It was Jim who arched both brows this time. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Spock said, softly. “I apologize for it taking me this long to realize it. And I am sorry that you had a fire at your farmhouse.”
“Yeah, it sucked.” Jim stepped closer. “But this doesn’t.”
And he kissed Spock.
****
“Santa came!” Peter squealed, running toward the tree.
Jim exchanged a look with Spock. “Yes, he did.”
Spirk (with a small dose of Pinto) 