Jim sniffed and wiped his eyes, smiling through his tears at his Vulcan boyfriend as they sat on the couch in the sitting room of Jim’s quarters on the Enterprise.
“Because Clarence got his wings,” Jim attempted to explain. “And George realized how important he was to the lives of those he loved and that it was okay to ask them for help.”
Spock shook his head, looking bemused. “You also cried during The Muppet Christmas Carol.”
“Well,” Jim said defensively. “It was sad when Belle dumped him. And even Rizzo cried.”
“A fake rat.”
Jim sniffed. “Tiny Tim didn’t die and Scrooge was saved.”
“And in the other one—”
“His heart grew twelve sizes.”
His boyfriend shook his head. “If they make you cry, why do you watch them?”
“Because I love them.” Jim smiled. “I haven’t seen them in years. I used to watch them every year but not for a while. A lot of people think I’m weird for loving them so much.”
“I am not sure weird is the term I would use, but I am not sure I quite understand it myself. You have, by your own admission, seen them dozens of times, yet you continue to watch them again and again.”
“Yep. I’m sure it’s quite illogical to Vulcans.”
“Hmm. My mother was Jewish, but we didn’t observe any holiday on Vulcan and I do not believe she did while on Earth before my father.”
Jim nodded. “My mother’s father was Jewish. But we really didn’t follow any specific religion when I was growing up. We treated everything kind of secular.” He leaned over and kissed Spock on the cheek. “Thanks for indulging me. Not only did you let me watch Christmas movies but in July. Or what would be July on Earth, anyway.”
“As illogical as you are, you are still my illogical Jim and therefore, of course, I indulge you.” Spock’s lips curved upward.
Jim glanced toward the little decorated Christmas tree in his quarters. “Even that?”
Spock nodded.
Jim laughed. “Come on. It’s time for bed.”
Spock sighed. “Do you still intend to wear the Santa hat?”
Spock was coming around the corner when he heard his father’s voice. He was aware his father intended to speak to their temporary guest, Jim Kirk, a Human boy of fifteen, who had recently been rescued by the Federation from Tarsus IV.
Spock had met Jim and quite liked him. He was attractive and kind, though sad. Spock couldn’t blame him considering the circumstances. While Spock was aware eavesdropping was not admirable, he found he could not turn around and walk away.
“On Vulcan, the Terran holiday season, including Christmas, is not observed. I realize it is December and you are generally used to holidays, Vulcans are not. Since you are currently on Vulcan until you can be safely transferred to your mother’s care, you must accept how matters are done here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If all goes as planned, you will be able to observe your celebration at this time next year in your Terran home.”
“I understand, Ambassador.”
“Good. Now, my wife is Human, and is experienced in cooking meals that will likely appeal to your palette and the replicators have also been programmed to offer meals you would likely appreciate. Given your lack of proper nutrition recently, I suggest you begin to make use of the replicators to eat until dinner later provided by my wife.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If there is anything else you require, you know how to reach me. I have a meeting to attend to, so I will see you at dinner.”
And then Spock’s father left, leaving the far too thin teen standing there staring after him.
Jim’s sandy colored hair was an unruly mess and there were dark smudges under his blue eyes, but he had been provided with trousers and a sweater to wear. They were too big, but it was more than he had arrived with. Due to his immediate rescue, he had come with nothing.
“Jim,” Spock called softly as he approached.
Jim turned and gave him a sunny smile. “Hey, Spock.”
Spock looked in the direction Sarek had gone. “I apologize for my father’s gruffness.”
“No, it’s all right. I’m the one who brought up Christmas. I should have known better.” Jim lowered his gaze shyly. “I mean, I knew there wouldn’t be like presents or whatever, I just wanted a bit of something normal and fun after everything.” His gaze rose. “I get it though. Of course you guys don’t do Christmas.”
“My mother was raised Jewish on Earth,” Spock told him. “But we do not observe any Jewish holidays either.”
Jim smiled and nodded. “Makes sense. Well, I think I’m going to go to my room for a bit, if you don’t mind. Probably take a nap. I’m pretty tired.”
“Yes, of course. I will see you soon.” And Spock was already formulating a plan.
Jim had just awakened from his nap when there was a noise at his door. Not a tap, more like a kick.
He rose from the bed and opened the door. Spock stood there holding about a two-foot pine tree decorated with lights and silver and gold balls.
“Spock, what—”
“May I come in?”
Jim stood back and let Spock inside. The Vulcan, aged eighteen he’d been told, stepped inside, not only carrying the tree but also a wrapped package and a filled red and green stocking.
Spock placed the tree on the desk in Jim’s room, and then set the package and stocking down.
“Mother assisted me with the present and stocking. I was able to replicate a small pine tree and decorations,” Spock said. “Since this is your room for the foreseeable future, I thought you should be able to have Christmas here if you wished.”
Jim’s eyes filled with tears, and overcome, he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.
Spock frowned. “I do not understand. I thought this would make you happy.”
“It does. It’s just…it’s been a really long time since anyone has been…since anyone has been this nice to me.”
Spock knelt on the floor in front of him. “The package is more clothes for you. But in the stocking there are things like cookies and candy and oranges. Mother helped me research what would normally be included.”
Jim laughed and wiped at his eyes. “That’s pretty cute.”
Spock shook his head. “No one has ever called me cute.”
“I doubt that,” Jim said, shyly.
Spock did not argue. “And we have added some additions to the replicator including a drink called eggnog and gingerbread.”
“Wow. That’s-that’s more than I could have ever wanted. Won’t your dad be mad?”
“He is not. We advised him of our plan and he said because it would all be in your room, he saw no reason not to indulge your Humanness.”
“That’s awesome! Thank you so much.” He quickly hugged Spock, but did not linger, knowing it would make the Vulcan uncomfortable. He then went to his stocking, tree, and present.
Jim was rushing home from having made a last-minute stop at the toy store. It was already two days before Christmas and he had to make sure Santa was going to deliver all the presents Georgie had asked for.
That morning, just before twenty-year-old Jim had left to go to his classes at Starfleet Academy, his little girl, Georgie, short for Georgette, named after his father, had advised him she’d asked Santa for a “Shelley Doll” and she sure hoped Santa would give it to her as she really really wanted it.
Jim had drawn a complete blank. He had never heard of this doll and it was the first time he’d heard Georgie ask for it.
Georgie was just four years old and very strongly believed in Santa. When Jim was sixteen and still living on Tarsus IV, he and his friend, Helen, slept together. Helen ended up pregnant and later, after giving birth to their daughter, she hadn’t survived the famine and killings there. Jim had taken Georgie back to Riverside with him and for a while, while he was still just a kid, his mom helped him.
But now his mom was back out in space herself, and Jim was going through the Academy. Georgie was with him in San Francisco.
He had to get that doll as there was no way he was going to disappoint his little girl. Fortunately, after his last class today, he was done until the second week of January.
But he was running late, later than he had intended, and he’d just received the second text from his babysitter asking when he would pick up Georgie.
So it really shouldn’t be a surprise when he ran smack into someone so hard that he went flying in the air and landed on the ground, smacking his head and his tailbone as he did so.
“Ow, fuck.”
“I apologize, I did not see you barreling toward me.”
The familiar voice cut through his pain filled head. Spock, the Vulcan instructor. Just figured.
Jim groaned and tried to sit up.
“Lie still, Mister Kirk. I will call for emergency transport to the hospital.”
“No, no, no. I can’t go.” Jim rubbed the back of his head. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, his head or above his butt. “Wait! Where’s my package?”
“Package?” Spock was crouched in front of him.
“Yes! Damn it. Where is it? I can’t lose Shelley.”
“You clearly need the hospital, you are delirious.”
Jim frowned, getting annoyed. “I’m not delirious. I had a bag from the toy store with a doll in it for my daughter for Christmas.”
“You have a daughter? But you are barely twenty.”
“Yes, I know. Where…” Jim spotted the bag nearby just before it was about to be stepped on. He snatched it up. “I hope it’s okay.”
He opened the bag to peer in. The doll seemed intact.
“Perhaps it is best to get up and out of the way of the pedestrians.” Spock reached down and pulled Jim to his feet. He held on to him when he swayed a bit. “I highly recommend you go to a hospital.”
“Can’t. It’s two days before Christmas and I gotta play Santa to my daughter. And right now she’s with her babysitter and I need to get her. Are you okay?”
Spock frowned. “I was not hurt.”
“Good, then I’m going to go.”
“If you will not get medical attention, at least allow me to accompany you to your home to ensure you are all right.”
Considering normally, Jim would jump at the opportunity to spend time with Spock, or jump on Spock, really, he figured he probably should agree.
“All right, fine.”
They only had another block to the apartment building where Jim lived, which also happened to be where Georgie’s babysitter lived.
The door to the apartment opened even before Jim had a chance to knock.
Leonard “Bones” McCoy peered out at Jim. Then he opened the door wide. “What happened to you?”
Jim gestured to Spock with his thumb. “Ran into a Vulcan brick.”
“Daddy!” Georgie hugged his legs.
“Hey, pumpkin.” Jim shoved his bag at Bones and scooped up his daughter. “Spock, this is Georgie and Bones. Bones is a doctor, so I’ll have him check me out.”
Georgie peered at Spock curiously. “Is he staying for dinner?”
Spock opened his mouth.
“I’m sure he probably has something better to do,” Bones interjected.
“I would like to stay,” Spock said with an arched brow.
Jim smiled. “Great. Uh. You want to come over too, Bones?”
“Someone has to be the chaperone,” Bones grumbled.
“Down, Daddy. I want to show Spock where we live!”
“Okay, okay.” Jim laughed and put her down. He was surprised when Spock let her grab his hand and lead her away from Bones’ apartment to theirs.
“What’s this?” Bones asked, shaking the bag.
“Shelley.”
“Huh?”
“Georgie asked Santa for a Shelley doll. So…”
Bones nodded. “Got you. I’ll hide it with the others until tomorrow night.”
“Thanks, Bones.”
“What’s with you and the hobgoblin?”
Jim shrugged. “I don’t know. My ass is killing me though.”
“Hey, no telling me personal stuff!”
Jim rolled his eyes. “I fell. Hit my tailbone and my head.”
“No wonder you’re with him,” Bones cracked. “Let me put this away and get my medical bag and I’ll be right over.”
“Thanks.” Jim smiled and shook his head as he heard Georgie chattering away at Spock. It would be an interesting night, for sure.
Spirk (with a small dose of Pinto) 