Kirk/Spock Advent Calendar 2006

God Rest One Weary Gentleman

by Loki3; rated G
FB: loki3 @ hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Paramount owns 'em but at least I'll put them back happy when I'm done
Summary: Spock offers Jim a Christmas present
Just Want to Say: Refers to the episode Naked Time. Also, Jim is definitely wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. If he can wear jeans in Yosemite, he can wear plaid to bed. The Santa data and cookie joke come from www.fnal.gov.

I was already lying in bed. I wasn't ready for a discussion, but I didn't want to postpone the inevitable. "Come."

The door opened. Spock entered and stopped by my desk. Not a hair out of place, and still in uniform.

I stood up, and started around the screen, "What is it, Spock? Is there a problem?" As I came around the divider he leaned back. The eyebrow rose and settled at half-mast. I sighed. Yes, even Starship Captains wear pajamas--sometimes.

"I see you were about to retire." A statement, or a question? Sometimes he was hard to read and I was tired. He crossed his arms, waiting--a question, then.

"Yes, but I can spare you a few minutes," I gestured towards a chair, "a drink?"

I poured myself a brandy, shoved my chair into the corner and sat down. I put my feet up on the desk. My bare toes winked at him, "Put the eyebrow down, Mr. Spock, we're off duty and it's Christmas." The brandy was warm as I sipped. I could feel my exhaustion refocus as it merged with the alcohol, suddenly I was too tired even for sleep.

"I can see you are weary, Captain...Jim. However, it seemed prudent to ascertain your condition, as you left the celebration early and it seemed that your thoughts were," the brown eyes shifted, his face easing as he searched for a word to describe something he wouldn't admit to understanding, "burdensome."

"It's been a difficult few months, Spock. I just didn't feel in the mood for a big celebration." I had seen Bones and Spock huddled in the corner watching me give the traditional toast. I figured Bones was gearing himself up for a 'talk'. But I wasn't sure when he had decided that Spock was the relief pitcher for psycho babble and Captain baiting. "Plus, I was feeling a little nostalgic; it's traditional for humans at Christmas."

He had nothing to say to that. I sipped my brandy again, watching as he looked down at the floor between his toes. I felt lightheaded--the drink or the exhaustion, both maybe. I could almost read the thoughts as they flew through that beautiful head. Chess had nothing on this, the careful exchange of verbal parries that only meant one thing--he was trying to be my friend. I knew the risk he took at these times, and loved him for it.

"Nostalgia is a 'feeling' evoked by memories of the past is it not? Do you have fond memories of Christmas as a child?" He seemed interested. Of course Santa had been a no-show in his half-human household.

"Of course, what holiday is more beloved by human children? Can anything beat waiting for Santa to bring you presents?"

The Vulcan scientist reared his head, overruling my friend. "The notion of Santa is illogical in the extreme. To accomplish this task in one night, his wooden sled and assorted reindeer would have to travel at a maximum of 99.999999 percent of the speed of light."

"How long would it take him if he were going that fast?" Curious--had he actually computed this?

"Factoring in the average population of Earth, and taking into account the different time zones, it could be accomplished in approximately 500 seconds."

"Well, at least he would have time to eat the cookies." There went the eyebrow again.

"Do humans still encourage their children to believe in this mythological figure?"

"Some do--my parents did. Anyway, by the time you're old enough to realize it's not true, you're old enough not to resent it. It's not too traumatic, usually." I was guessing here. But my nephew had taken the change pretty well, at least according to Sam.

"No, it's just that at this time of year I always think of my father. He died when I was young, and we were notified of it just before Christmas." It was Christmas Eve actually, but there was no need to look too pathetic here. "That was also the year I realized there was no Santa Claus, and somehow the two just became linked in my mind. Things were never the same in my house after he died. I guess that's why I'm always a little melancholy at Christmas."

He was quiet, watching me with those dark eyes. I saw the change in expression then, not pity--never pity, but understanding and affection. Things I would gladly accept from him.

He understood. "It was illogical to give me a present, Jim. I do not celebrate this holiday."

"We don't give presents only to fellow celebrants, Spock. I wanted to give you a present because you are my friend. This one seemed suitable because you could rationalize it as a benefit for the good of the many." I had pulled a few strings at the Quadrant Quartermaster's office and requisitioned a delivery of the newest mnemonic circuits for the ship's computer. I had forwarded the notification to Spock just that afternoon.

"In that spirit then, I thank you." He uncrossed his arms and tilted his head as he considered me. "I am sorry that I did not think to reciprocate."

"Not a problem." We looked at each other. What next? I put the brandy glass down, and wiggled my toes. Up went both eyebrows.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then paused. His eyes returned to the floor, thinking again; a decision being made? He looked up and spoke "I have given great consideration lately to my actions while under the influence of the virus from Psi 2000. Things were said then which I would unsay if I could. In light of this I believe that I wish to offer you a gift now."

He stood. "I believe it would be best if you returned to your bed. This might leave you somewhat drained, and as it is late I would encourage you to rest afterwards." He waited for me to move.

I swung my legs down and went back to the sleeping area. I crawled into bed and watched him enter the room. He sat on the edge of the bed and folded his hands together. "I wish to initiate a meld with you. It will not be a deep one; this will be purely for an exchange of impressions. Any resulting conclusions I will leave to your own judgment. The side benefit, however, is that it will relax you before you sleep."

I smiled, "So Spock, are you saying when it comes to gifts it's the thought that counts?" Mental note: Vulcans don't like bad jokes. I touched his elbow, "Sorry, just whistling in the dark." This didn't go over much better, but he forgave me just as quickly.

He turned, and gently placed his fingertips on my face. I brought one hand up, placed it on his arm. He spoke quietly, "My mind to your mind; my thoughts to your thoughts."

It wasn't invasive and it wasn't a union. We might have been sitting next to each other on a transport--arms and legs pressed together--a small sort of intimacy. Then I felt something give and knew everything. My friend was there, warm, supportive, loving--all those things Spock held inside were brushing against my mind.

I tried to let him see those things in me, to know that every impulse binding him to me was reflected in my own soul. I hope I got that across. I fell asleep with these feelings washing over me, and I knew I was no longer alone.