ST - Christmas Company

It was Christmas Eve, and Jim Kirk was depressed.  He was holed up in his quarters on board the USS Enterprise, lounging on his bed, his lights set on a low setting.  He was still dressed in his command gold, just getting off of Alpha shift for the night.  Part of him regretted not going directly to sick bay to steal some of Bones' hidden stash of wonderful and questionable alcoholic items, but Jim really didn't want any company at the moment.  Instead he was content to suffer his loneliness in silence, the concept at which he had already bitterly laughed at himself for, picturing, in his mind, what Spock would say to that.  Something along the lines of his whole mood being illogical and reprimanding him in that perfectly Vulcan way, and then sending him along down to sick bay anyway.

He heard the override code to his door being punched in from outside.  He could already tell, by the sound of the keys getting mashed much harder than necessary, who was on the other side.  His arm flew over his face before the door opened, blocking his eyes from the intruding light, and he sighed loudly.

"Hey, Bones." He tried his hardest to sound upbeat and at least semi-normal, but he knew that his best friend could see right through it.

"Jim, this depression of yours isn't healthy, get up, the crew wants to hold a Christmas party in the mess hall."  Jim merely waved his hand at the offending doctor, rolling over in his bed to face the wall, away from the light.

"Leave me alone, Bones.  They can have their party, I just don't feel like being around anyone."  He heard the audible gruff sigh from behind him, the doctor wasn't going to give up so easily.

"At least go down to the holo-rec room, Jim.  That might make you feel better."  Jim sighed behind his arm, finally sitting up, as if it were the most labor intensive movement he'd ever made.  Slowly, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, glaring slightly at Bones, before leading the way out the door and down the hallway.

---

Somewhere along the way down to Deck 8, Bones had left Jim to himself, alone in the turbo lift, and then the hallway.  Jim wasn't really paying attention, and didn't really care when Bones left, he just seemed to be alone all of a sudden.  He shrugged it off, blaming his lack of attention span at the moment, and shuffled down to the single holo-rec room.  Out of the seven rec rooms on the deck, only the single one was holographic.  Jim avoided this room as much as possible, he didn't like the simulations, he didn't like being in a false reality.  This was partly due to the fact that he loved his job, his ship, and his crew, but the majority of it was that he really didn't want to leave the reality he was in for another, he knew he was lucky to have all that he did, and he wasn't about to give that up for something fake.  But right now, he really needed this.

He punched a code into the control panel beside the door, and entered, letting a slight smile slip past his lips.  The room was perfect.  It resembled the inside of a late-twentieth century log cabin, decorated for the holidays in vines of ivy.  A fire burned in a large stone fireplace in the center of one wall, the rest of the wall covered in windows, showing a dark snowy landscape.  A large tree reached up to the ceiling, easily making it at least ten feet tall, decorated in silver and sparkling in the firelight.  The floors were wood, but covered in a large rug, accompanied by two plush couches and a glass table that surrounded the rug, giving the area a bit of privacy.  Beyond those stood a stone bar counter, on the other side of which stood a modern kitchen, what seemed to Jim to be a replicator as well as the devices to hand-make some things.  A table and some chairs sat in an alcove that spurred off from the kitchen, the alcove rounded, like the table inside, and also surrounded by windows.

Jim couldn't help but smile at the room, it was exactly what he needed right now.  He took the liberty of lounging on one of the couches, relaxing and enjoying the heat of the fire, he always did wonder how exactly the holo-room created temperature changes like that.  His head lulled back against the cushions, his eyes closing sleepily, enjoying the relaxing warmth.  However, after a few minutes of laying against the softness of the couch, he realized that something was missing.  He was lonely.

His brow furrowed slightly in confusion, he'd planned on spending the night alone anyway, he wasn't quite sure why it was getting to him at this point.  He was comfortable, relaxed, and utterly alone, everything he'd wanted for the night, and it truly bothered him.  He sat up quickly, throwing his feet to the floor once more and resting his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.  His fingers rubbed idly at his temples, why was this so wrong?

His mind immediately thought of the rest of his crew, having their Christmas party only a few decks above him.  There was no doubt that they were all immensely drunk by now, dancing and laughing to the music they played, generally socializing, everything this holiday was about, being with other people.  A smile crept onto Jim's lips as he thought of Spock, trying to imagine him within the group, and greatly failing at coming up with the image.  He supposed that, instead, Spock was in his own quarters, probably meditating, or something else equally Vulcan.

At that, he let his mind wander, thinking about his first officer, as he'd often done in the past.  What did Spock think of Terran holidays, such as Christmas.  Had his mother celebrated them when she was alive?  Was Spock just as depressed as he was, if his mother had in fact celebrated the holiday every year, after all, much like Jim, this would be Spock's first Christmas alone as well.  He frowned at the thoughts, automatically standing from his seat and requesting the door and comm panel to the computer.  If Spock was feeling like Jim, maybe all he needed was the same sort of comforts.  He punched in the code to Spock's quarters.

"Spock?  You there?"  He waited a moment, a part of him wondering if Spock was even in his quarters, maybe he'd been entirely wrong and Spock was at the party.  After a moment, however, the thoughts were crushed by the familiar voice.

"Yes, Captain, how may I be of assistance."  He didn't sound any different than normal, and Jim rolled his eyes at the formal address.

"Spock, you know to call me Jim off duty."

"Jim.  May I inquire as to the purpose of your interruption?" Jim frowned slightly, he'd never supposed that Spock would be busy at this time of night.

"I was just wondering, if you weren't busy, if you'd want to come spend some time in the holo-room with me, since, I figured, you wouldn't be going to the crew's Christmas party…" If he'd have been watching himself, he would have laughed.  Why did he suddenly feel like a little boy asking a girl for her first date?  And he knew that the question he'd asked reflected that, having far too many pauses, certainly Spock would pick up on it and make fun of him in some way.  But regardless, he waited for the response.

"That would be…agreeable.  I shall join you momentarily."  Something deep down in Jim's stomach flipped happily, releasing a series of butterflies that floated up to Jim's smile.

"Alright, I'll be here, just come on in."  He ended the connection, preparing to sit and wait for the Vulcan to join him.

---

It only took Spock a few minutes to leave his quarters and head down the three decks to the holo-room, entering without warning.  Jim had returned to his spot on the couch, this time just sitting back, his boot-less feet propped up on the table in front of him.  He smiled up at Spock as he entered, the Vulcan looking from him to the room and, upon finding it agreeable, entered to join the captain.  His dark eyes continued scanning the room, taking in every detail of the holographic program slowly.

"This program is…enjoyable."  Jim's smile only grew at the statement, getting up to great his friend and pull him into the room.

"I was thinking you'd like this place."  His eyes slowly wandered around the room, thinking about his family, what he was missing this year, he'd never spent a Christmas away from his mom, even though his academy years he'd been sure to come home.  He looked down at the thoughts of his mother, his feet shuffling slightly.  Spock moved around him, taking in the view from the large windows near the fire, his hands clasped, as always, behind his back.  Jim finally looked up, plastering the grin back on his face before heading around the couches toward Spock once more.

"You want anything? Coffee, egg nog, hot chocolate?" Spock turned to face him once more, a slight flicker of confusion in his features.  To anyone else, he would have looked just the same as always, that cold, stoic, Vulcan face, but Jim had learned Spock's features and knew exactly what confusion looked like on his friend's face.

"Hot…chocolate?"  Jim almost laughed at the confusion radiating from Spock, instead grinning back at him before grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and dragging him back toward the kitchen area, talking as he walked.

"Yeah, it's like chocolate, but in drink form." The look intensified on Spock's face, his brow furrowing slightly, Jim tried his hardest not to laugh before finally turning away from him and beginning to prepare one of the drinks for each of them.  "Spock, no offence, but for a culture that knows everything, you guys sure can be clueless sometimes."  He wasn't sure if Spock reacted to the statement, but didn't turn around to find out, instead avidly making the drinks for them.  It wasn't until the water was heated and he was pouring it slowly into the cups that Spock responded.

"Mother's preferred holiday drink was egg nog."  The statement made Jim blink for a moment, pausing in his stirring of the drinks, almost as if the single statement had paused his mind.  A million thoughts flooded Jim's conscious at that moment, so Spock's mother did celebrate the holiday.  Jim suddenly felt his stomach drop once more, knowing somehow that he'd made a mistake.  He'd just reminded Spock of what was probably the most painful time of his life, and it was for his own selfish reasons.  Slowly, he abandoned the drinks, turning to face him.

"Spock, I'm sorry, I didn't know…" The Vulcan held a hand up to stop Jim's apology, effectively silencing him.

"It is not of your concern, Jim.  Please, proceed." Jim took the hint, turning back and finishing making the drinks with his favorite part, the whipped cream, before handing one steaming mug to Spock, the two of them maneuvering back to one of the couches and sitting back into it together, a comfortable silence settling over them like the snow outside the large windows.

A few minutes passed before Jim looked up at Spock, watching him stare into the flames in the fireplace.  He'd realized a few weeks ago that he enjoyed watching Spock, there was something about the odd pastime that relaxed Jim, almost as if watching him affirmed that the Vulcan was there, supporting him, arguing with him, and ultimately becoming a part of him.  Jim had realized that he'd become thinking, not only in his own illogical way, but in the back of his mind he could hear Spock's logical reprimands and corrections, even without his presence.  He felt connected to Spock, in ways he couldn't describe.

Uhura had told him that it looked as if they were bonding, and not in the manly-man way, but in the Vulcan definition.  Jim had just brushed it off with a laugh and a shake of his head.  A week later, Gaila had mentioned the same thing, telling Jim that he was becoming a lovesick puppy, Jim had stormed out of engineering and gotten a bit drunk with Bones that day.  A week after that, he realized it himself, and finally stopped denying that he had, in fact, grown quite connected to the Vulcan in ways beyond those of Captain and First Officer.  And now, as he watched Spock, despite not being able to visually see it, he could feel the pain that Spock was in, remembering the holidays past spent with his mother.  And Jim realized that he felt the exact same pain, not in the same way, but that true feeling of loss.

Knowing Spock, Jim figured he wouldn't want to talk about it.  He knew the Vulcan would keep his thoughts to himself until later when he would meditate for the next three or so days, and then arrive once more on the bridge ready to shoot down the first stupid idea that Jim had.  This was the way they worked, and Jim respected it.  He had to admit to himself that yes, he was curious about Spock's past, but really, all he actually cared about was that he had someone as perfectly suited for him as Spock.

He smiled to himself, putting down his empty mug and lightly leaned over, his shoulder leaning into Spock lightly.  It wasn't an intimate touch, and Jim knew that Spock understood that, but it also wasn't the type of touch a Captain and First Officer should share.  It was private, perfect, just for them at that moment.  Spock looked down at Jim and lightly returned the gentle weight Jim had put on him, balancing them both, a physical manifestation of the way their minds pushed against each other every single day.  

The light feeling reassured Jim and he grinned up at Spock, who returned the grin in his own way, the corners of his eyes crinkling almost invisibly.  He finally leaned off of Spock, sinking back into the cushions once more, relaxing and just enjoying the feeling of the fire.

"Thanks, Spock."  Spock looked at him slightly, giving him a slightly inquisitive look.

"For being here.  I needed it."

"It is highly unlikely that the presence of my company was truly imperative to your…"  Jim waved a hand slightly, silencing Spock.

"No, no, I mean…I didn't realize that I really needed the company tonight.  Just someone to sit with me…" He shrugged slightly at the thoughts.  "I don't know.  It just helps."  Spock still watched him carefully, studying his face, but didn't respond, a sign that he did, in fact, understand.  The company was really what they both had needed, and they both knew it.  And there they sat, in silence, staring into the holographic flames that burned on, continuing even after the crew's party was over and late into the night, just the two of them.