He doesn’t want to be here. When he was young he liked parties, but he’s not young now. And even though the expert on all things Jim, Bones, has said all his vitals are good and strong due to the super blood running through his veins, he’s at mandatory retirement age for Starfleet.
It sounds just as weird thinking about it as it did out loud when he was told in what could only be described as a gentle nudge.
He remembers Bones talking about it when he hit retirement first. He was being “put out to pasture” in Bones Speak.
Jim’s gaze sweeps the noisy room, seeking out Spock, who dressed in Vulcan robes, speaks with a casually dressed Uhura.
He remember a time when he was jealous of her, even of their very close friendship after their romantic relationship ended. He never viewed his own friendship with Spock as being as close. It bothered him then.
But it doesn’t now. Everything they have has evolved into what they have now. It is beyond friendship and romance. Somehow. And he can’t really explain it but it feels right.
Better than right.
He is happy with life, except for the forced retirement.
Coincidentally, it is New Year’s Eve. Long ago he’d experienced a few painful ones. One in particular when he was still a young admiral.
He remembers the heartache like remembering a toothache when you are a child. It’s distant and no longer relevant, but a memory of one’s passage through life events.
He avoids the captain deliberately making a beeline for him by hurrying to the double doors leading outside. He should feel guilt but somehow he doesn’t.
He makes his way down to the oversized balcony he once stood at all those years ago and stops there. He looks down from there, at the side of the building where he once let go of a picture of himself and Spock.
A lot has changed since then.
Some has not.
He still never found out what happened to Sam. And that still breaks his heart when he thinks about it too much. He wishes he could have saved his brother. His mom wished that too when she was alive. But they both were unable.
“Admiral?”
A smile touches his lips as he turns to greet his husband.
“Not anymore, my love. Retirement, remember?”
“Indeed.” Spock pulls him into his arms and draws him close, holding him into the warmth of his embrace.
“It’s not cold tonight. You know, like it was then.”
“Mm. It has been a warmer year. What have you been thinking?”
“Little things, mostly. Wondering what the hell I’m going to do with retirement.”
“I feel certain I will find a way to occupy your time.”
Jim laughs and it feels good to do so.
Fireworks are suddenly released in the distance and Jim knows it’s time.
“What are your plans for New Year’s Eve with Jim?”
Spock does not know how to answer Leonard’s question. Jim has so far not specified any particular plans for them. Though Spock has been back in Admiral Jim Kirk’s life for a year now, a year to the day of New Year’s Eve, their relationship is not what it had been prior to Spock’s mistakes. He had hoped Jim would forgive him, but the truth was there was distance in Jim’s gaze even now.
“The Admiral has not disclosed any plans for us.”
“You didn’t plan anything? Sorta your anniversary, isn’t it?”
“Anniversary?”
“Your reconciliation.”
Spock hesitates. “I do not believe Jim feels reconciled.”
Leonard frowns. “What do you mean?”
“He holds himself back from me. A year later he still does not trust me. He believes I will leave again.”
His friend sighs. “He’s a tough egg, Spock. He was really devastated when you left. He needs time.”
“I know.”
And Spock has a lot of time. He is not sure Jim has. Jim is young for an admiral still, and yet, from the ambassador, Spock knows there is never really enough time. Not with Jim.
“I suspect we will have a quiet night at home.”
And it ends up being just that.
Jim never speaks of any celebratory plans and when Spock get to their apartment in San Francisco after his late lunch with McCoy, Jim is already there and his usual subdued self.
Subdued since their so-called reconciliation, that is.
“Hi.” Jim smiles at Spock and for the barest moment it warms Spock like it once did. The sun shines on his heart and he feels once more that Jim is his las’hark.
But the smile fades away, quickly, and Jim turns away to make himself coffee in the kitchen.
The “hi” suddenly seems less welcoming, more a greeting to a stranger than to a lover, to a husband. Spock’s side twists.
“Jim.”
He speaks the name softly almost reverently. Those blue eyes turn to him, seeking an answer Spock doesn’t know.
“Do you-do you want to go somewhere to celebrate the new year?”
Jim shakes his head. “No, let’s just stay here. Not really in the mood for crowds.”
Neither is Spock, really.
“I could make us some dinner,” Spock offers.
“I’m not really hungry at the moment. Later maybe?”
Spock begins to nod, but stops the motion as Jim has already turned away. He feels trapped in a nightmare of his own making, because, yes, Spock is aware that he had caused Jim to fall out of love with him.
He offers the only thing he can at this point.
“Jim, may we speak?”
Those eyes return to his, and there is something in that gaze that frightens Spock, but he tries not to let it. He thinks he could so easily misstep right now, and it is that that scares him.
“Okay.”
He draws Jim to a chair in the living room and has him sit. Spock thinks about standing above him, but that seems like he would be hovering and threatening in his body language and Spock does not wish to come off that way, so he drops down to his knees in front of Jim, noting the surprise there in those eyes.
Those eyes, so blue, have haunted Spock for so long.
Spock takes a breath. “Jim…”
“You’re leaving again,” Jim guesses.
And the pain of it hits Spock in the stomach like a physical blow.
“Neg…no,” Spock changes to the more simpler word at the last minute. Somehow the more intimate word, though he’s not sure why that is. “I will never leave again.”
He can tell that Jim still does not believe him. He doesn’t say, but Spock is able to read it in that closed off look he has had in his eyes for far too long.
“Even now, as I am aware that I have…lost your love…if all I am to have is your companionship, then I will accept that, and cherish it.”
Jim stares at him for so long, Spock has no idea what his response will be. Part of him fears that Jim will send him away. Spock doesn’t know what he will do if that is the case.
“You’re wrong.”
Spock does not know how to react or what he is wrong about. He remains nonplussed.
“You haven’t lost my love,” Jim clarifies. “I’ll always love you. That can’t and won’t change.”
Spock does not allow himself to feel relief. “But?”
Jim shakes his head. “I still don’t…” He stops, blows out a long breath.
“Trust me. Trust that I will not leave.”
“Yeah. I mean, you loved me before, I was your T’hy’la before. And you left anyway. People I’ve cared about have been leaving me all my life. I got used to it. But you…I thought it would be different.” Jim lowers his head, looking down at his fingers clenched in his lap. “It’s hard, Spock.”
Spock knows this. “Your heart remains cold.”
Jim sighs. It’s not a mean sigh or even resigned. It is simply a breath of air that seems somehow filled with both trepidation and promise.
His gaze is softer when he looks up at Spock. Warmer. Spock’s heartbeat quickens.
“Take me to bed.”
“Even when we are intimate, you hold back from me.” Spock isn’t sure this is the right thing to say, and yet he cannot help but say it. But there is no change in Jim’s expression. It is still warm and soft.
“I know,” Jim acknowledges. “I won’t. Not tonight. It’s-it’s been a year. Perhaps a new beginning?”
Spock will take whatever chance he can have with Jim and so they move from the living room to their bedroom.
Lovemaking is good. Very good. And as Spock moves inside Jim, it does feel different. More them. As they once were. More intimate, more feelings of love.
He lies on his back afterward, holding his sun to him, his las’hark. It feels somehow more hopeful than it has the past year, though Spock knows things are still far from perfect. He has a lot of work to do still to gain back Jim fully.
But this feels like a start.
He places his hand on Jim’s chest, over his heart. His chest feels very warm this night, warmer than he has felt in a long time, and it as though the warmth comes from within.
Spock opens their bond, hesitantly, though he does not force Jim to do the same. If Jim wishes to join Spock there he will.
Outside, fireworks go off and Spock knows midnight has come. It is a new year.
“Happy New Year, T’hy’la.”
He waits for Jim to speak those words in return, but they do not come verbally.
He feels them all over his body, through his veins, his muscles, and at last, in his mind.
Happy New Year, Spock.
Jim has joined their bond and Spock feels a tear escape.
I wrote this in mostly 3rd person, present, not my usual style but it seemed to work for this story. I have chosen to make this part of the sad endings series, but it’s not exactly a sad ending, though I think the overall feel is quite…desolate.
The party goes on behind him, in the room beyond the doors that he has slipped through. He hears the scattered conversations. The laughter, the revelry.
He keeps walking until those voices and that laughter become a memory. He turns right at the end of a corridor, and walks down another, all the way to the end, and through another set of double doors and out into the night.
There is a chilly breeze as he stands at the railing of the oversized balcony. It’s the kind that steals your breath and makes your cheeks sting. What he’s wearing isn’t nearly warm enough for this kind of weather. A dress uniform only, any outer attire discarded earlier and he’s forgotten where he put it.
Midnight will arrive soon and he’ll miss it. The kisses and the exchanges of a wish for good fortune and health in the New Year.
But he will miss a lot of things. His life has changed forever. And it cannot go back to what it was, no matter how he might wish or dream.
Off in the distance, he sees fireworks and knows it is midnight even before he hears yelling and screaming from all directions around him.
He smiles to himself.
“Happy New Year.”
There is no answer, of course, for no one stands with him, and he tries not to think of that as more than literal and not as metaphorical, but it is a near thing.
For in that moment, he feels as alone as he used to feel all those years ago in Iowa, dreaming and wishing for an escape. He feels that same resentment, for a brief time, he felt toward Sam, as his brother walked away from that farm, from him. For the freedom his brother obtained that in many ways he never could.
He wonders, as he often does at reflective times like this, whatever happened to that boy who left him behind. He never got to know. Never heard from or about Sam again. Perhaps he’d experienced the ultimate freedom and they’d just never been notified. But at least he had not experienced Tarsus, and in that, he was lucky.
He shook his head, to dispel those melancholy memories that held no sway for him now. Too many years ago.
He leans his head up, to look up at the stars, at the planets. He thinks of his boyhood dreams and his dreams now, and realizes they are not that far off from each other.
Somewhere up there, he’s too lazy and too buzzed from Champagne to consider it too closely at the moment, is New Vulcan. And on New Vulcan…Spock.
“Admiral?”
He turns to face the ensign, the security guard, who has ventured out in this cold, frigid night air. Sent to locate him, no doubt.
“Yes, Ensign?”
“Doctor McCoy is looking for you, sir.”
He smiled. “Okay, I’ll go inside in a minute.”
The ensign nods to acknowledge the dismissal and hurries back where it is much warmer. He doesn’t entirely blame the guard either.
He reaches inside his pants’ pocket and pulls out the ring and small holo pic he’d brought with him. The reason, the hope, seems stupid now. He glanced down at the photo of the two of them together. But never really together. That was, as the old saying goes, a pipe dream.
The picture drifts from his fingers and off the side of the building. He thinks briefly of letting the ring go, over the railing and out of his life forever, but he can’t quite make that happen.
He is about to turn to go back inside, to reassure Bones he has not lost his senses or whatever Bones will think, when a star shoots across the sky. He’s long past wishing on a star. And yet, it gives him a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. And a longing he’s tried to suppress but failed.
Shaking his head, he turns around. Gasps.
Spock stands there, dressed in somber dark robes, his eyes somehow more dark and somber.
He doesn’t know what to say or do so he doesn’t act at all. Just stands there numb and freezing.
Somehow, he’s surprised when Spock takes the steps toward him, instead, for it always seems as though he pursues Spock, even in this small way, but here Spock takes steps to reach him and when he does, for a moment, neither of them do anything at all.
Then, “Spock”, is stolen from his lips and deposited into the air before he can stop it.
“Jim,” is the soft response.
Then his arms open wide, Spock’s, not his, and before he can stop himself from this action, either, he steps into those arms and allows them to close around him, pulling him against his former first officer in an embrace so warm it cut through the numbing cold.
“I didn’t think you were coming back,” he mumbles into the robe at Spock’s throat.
“I will not leave again.”
The hope bursts back, unbidden and unwelcome, because if Spock does leave him again, ends everything between them, as before, it will destroy him the next time. But perhaps not. Perhaps he is strong enough to withstand even this abandonment.
If that is what he is to face. It’s hard to trust anyone. Spock most of all.
“You are freezing, T’hy’la. Let me take you back inside.”
He isn’t very aware of his own movements, but somehow Spock gets him back into the building without releasing him from the warm embrace. Spock’s hand slips down his arm and to his own hand where he has curled his fingers around the ring. Spock uncurls his fingers and stares down at the ring, battered and scratched from being on his finger through too many battle injuries.
Those dark, somber eyes meet his gaze and he takes the ring from his shaking hand and slips it back on Jim’s ring finger where it once belonged. He doesn’t know if it does now.
Exhausted, he sags against Spock, who holds him almost impossibly close. The bond is open, from Spock’s side, anyway, and it feels like heaven in a way it has not for a long time.
“What changed?” he asks.
“I do not want to be alone.”
Pain stabs his chest. “To come back to me just so you don’t have to be alone—”
“No,” Spock says, quickly, urgently. “I made a mistake. I thought it would be better to reject all emotion, to…”
“Reject me.”
Spock nods. “It was…torture in a way that I had not anticipated. Jim, I will fall to my knees and subjugate myself before you if you deem it necessary.”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. They both know he would forgive Spock anything. Always has.
It is a new year and a new chance perhaps. And perhaps, this time, he will not be disappointed. Abandoned yet again.
“T’hy’la.” There were tears in Spock’s eyes and he knows Spock has gotten his thoughts, the bond, aching and burning with pain as it is, has opened on both sides, his too.
He only wishes he knew if Spock’s tears were for him or for Spock.
He’s held closer still, warmth enveloping him, but his heart remains cold.
Fortunately I took pity on them and readers and wrote a sequel, which will appear tomorrow.
“Another Christmas over,” Jim said, forlornly, as he sat on a stump in their yard next to his older brother.
It was after midnight, and they really should be in the house and in bed but they had no school so Mom had given them permission to stay up a bit late.
Jim was six and Sam nine.
“I’m glad.”
“Don’t say that Sammy.”
Sam snorted. “Now the grandparents can go home. And Mom’s new boyfriend too. I hate all those people in my house.”
“I like them,” Jim insisted. “Grandma and Grandpa anyway. I don’t like Mom’s boyfriend. Besides what if Daddy comes back?”
“I’ve already told you Dad’s not ever coming back. He died, stupid.”
“But I wished on a star!”
“Wishes don’t work. And guess what? There’s no such thing as Santa. That was Mom.”
“What? There’s no Santa?” Jim was on the verge of tears.
“The sooner you grow up the better off you’ll be. Dad’s gone. Santa doesn’t exist and Mom’s gonna marry that guy and ruin all our lives. Life isn’t fair, Jimmy. It’s just life. And you live it. And sometimes good things happen, but mostly bad things do. You just gotta accept it.”
“But—”
“And Christmas sucks.” Sammy rose from the stump he’d been on and went slamming back into the house, leaving Jim to sit by himself, now in tears.
He sat there for a while wondering why Sammy hated him. Because he must. Sammy was always mean to him, Jim thought.
He was still there when his grandpa came t sit with him on the stump beside him.
“Getting a little cold out here, isn’t it, champ?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve got some cocoa brewing right now, so when we go in you can have some before bed.”
“Grandpa?”
“Yeah?”
“Daddy really isn’t ever coming back, is he?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Your daddy passed away. But he saved a lot of people and was a hero. We’re very proud of him and you should be, too. And his spirit is always with us. All of us.”
“And Santa?”
“What about him?”
“Sam says there’s no such thing as Santa.”
His grandpa put his hand on Jim’s knee. “Sam doesn’t know everything, Jim. He only thinks he does. You believe me when I tell you Santa is real.”
Jim brightened. “It’s true?”
“You bet it is. Now let’s go in and get that cocoa, all right?”
“Okay.”
They got off their stumps and Jim took his grandpa’s hand as they went back inside the house. He felt much better. And didn’t care what Sammy said. Santa was real!
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.
Spock looked up from his PADD to gaze dispassionately at his nephew.
“I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Correct. And that is the problem.”
“Excuse me?” Spock arched a brow.
Vanik sighed heavily. “Last Christmas was a dismal failure on your part.”
Spock frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I presented Jim with a razor.”
“Precisely. A practical present.”
“Indeed. It was quite logical. It included a shaving kit.”
“And that’s the issue. Humans do not want practical, logical presents. They want something…romantic.”
Spock blanched. “I do not know how to choose a romantic gift.”
“Yes, you made that clear last Christmas.”
“I suppose you have a suggestion?”
Vanik screwed up his face. “Perhaps a ring?”
“Are you suggesting that I propose marriage for Christmas?”
Vanik gave him a half smile. “I think Jim would be surprised.”
“What would Jim be surprised at?” Jim asked, suddenly appearing in the living room of the apartment he shared with Spock. “Other than being surprised to see you here, Vanik. Again.”
Vanik blushed. “I came to see Uncle Spock.”
“Umhmm.”
“Vanik was critiquing my Christmas gift to you last year.”
“The razor and shaving kit?”
“Yes.”
“I loved that.”
Spock arched a brow once more at Vanik who deflated.
“See you later kiddo?”
Vanik nodded. “Very well. I do have some homework.”
Jim watched Spock’s nephew leave and then he went around the desk and planted himself in Spock’s lap.
“Did you really enjoy the razor?”
“Of course I did”
“Vanik wants us to get married.”
Jim laughed and kissed him. “In due time, in due time.”
“Your nose is as red as Snow White’s Apple,” Leonard “Bones” McCoy cracked to Jim Kirk as they strode through the middle quad path at Starfleet Academy.
“Funny. I’ve been sneezing all day and my nose is starting to run. Think I caught a cold from…hey!” Jim squealed and covered his neck with his hand. “What you just stab me with?”
“Medication, you baby. Actually considering the time of year, your nose is as red as Rudolph’s.”
“You know that reminds me, don’t you think Santa was a dick to Rudolph?”
“Well. Sure. That was kinda the point, wasn’t it? To show that even a good guy like Santa can get it wrong.”
Jim stumbled and then stopped, putting his hand on his forehead. “I think I’m getting a fever.”
“I think I have something for that.” Bones dug into his medical bag.
“Easy.” Jim dodged him. “I’m still recovering from that bee sting you gave me only seconds ago.”
“Do you wanna get better or not? Haven’t you got a big date with the hob—”
“Jim. Doctor.”
“Speak of the devil,” Bones muttered.
Spock arched his brow at Bones but otherwise ignored him in favor of gazing at Jim intently. “You do not look well.”
“It’s the bright red nose.”
Jim shot Bones an irritated look. “Be quiet. I’m sure Spock can see for himself.”
“Pretty sure the whole campus can spot that shiny beacon,” Bones cracked. “It’s glowing. You sure you don’t want another shot?”
“You received a medical procedure from the doctor?”
“Involuntary, but yeah. That’s quite all right, Bones, I’ll pass. Be on your way.”
“Let me know if that fever gets worse!” Bones called as he hurried away.
Spock’s intense look became concerned. “You have a fever?”
“Just a small one.” Jim sighed. “But, um, I don’t think I should go to the dinner with your parents. I don’t want to infect anyone. I might be contagious. I’m sorry.”
“It is I who feel regret, Jim. I will cancel.”
“No, you don’t have to…”
“My parents are in San Francisco for an extended period. We can schedule the dinner for another time when you are feeling better. I would prefer to watch over your illness.”
Jim smiled. He did, even though, he really felt pretty damn miserable. But how could he not smile when he had this amazing Vulcan standing nearby, ready to take care of him?
And though Jim hadn’t quite got to the point where he told Spock he loved him or anything, Jim was certain he did.
“Okay.” He took a step forward and stumbled again, but Spock seized hold of him instantly. “Guess I feel pretty crappy.”
“Indeed. Come, Jim. It’s time for me to put you to bed.”
“Wish we were going to bed for something fun.”
“Jim…”
“I know. And this nose. It’s not very comfwutable.”
Spock shook his head and helped Jim out of the quad to get him to bed.
Jim woke to the feel of a heavy body leaning into him, surrounding him with warmth and an arm wrapped tightly around him, as though if that arm wasn’t there, Jim would escape.
He smiled to himself as he looked at the man holding onto him so tight.
Spock.
He was facing Jim and his eyes were closed, his face creased against the pillow in Jim’s bed.
This was Jim’s childhood bedroom though when he was a kid he had a much smaller bed.
He turned his head slightly so that he could see the window from his position and sure enough it was still snowing. It had begun the afternoon before. It was the kind of snowstorm that assured they weren’t going anywhere.
Last night was…everything. Their first time. It had been amazing. Unexpected but amazing.
Spock’s eyelids opened suddenly and he stared at Jim wide-eyed and for one tense moment Jim thought what he saw there was Spock’s regret.
To forestall any such thing, Jim said, “Merry Christmas.”
For it was Christmas morning.
Best Christmas Eve ever, Jim thought.
Spock’s lips curved. “You do not regret last night?”
“Not a chance.”
“I find myself relieved.”
Jim grinned. “Right back at you. Pancakes for breakfast?”
Spirk (with a small dose of Pinto) 