Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Jim didn’t consider himself a holidays person. He’d get drunk at a whatever-themed party, buy discount cookies on December 26th, and that was pretty much it. What else do you do when you have no real friends, family, or traditions? Without any of that, the holiday season is just another time of year.

However, things changed during his first December at the Academy.

In the beginning of the semester, Jim’d figured he and Bones would make good drinking buddies and decent roommates. What Jim didn’t expect was that Bones would sit with him after being woken by night terrors. That Jim would encourage him to make friends even though they were all “fucking children”. That they’d both remind each other to eat and sleep when things were too much.

While Jim wasn’t paying attention, Bones had become a pillar in his life. He literally couldn’t imagine living without this sourpuss of a doctor. Thus, when Bones announced he was going to Georgia for Christmas, all sorts of weird emotions happened.

His emotions were the human equivalent of a dog crying by the door while its owner left for work. Sure, he knew intellectually that Bones was only going to be gone a week or two. That didn’t make the panic and preemptive loneliness better. It was unreasonable to expect Bones to always be around: Bones had a life outside of him. There were 30 odd years of Bones’s life where he didn’t know Jim at all. Of course he had other friends and a real family—hell, he had a fucking child.

The thing was…Bones had become Jim’s family. His only family. Meanwhile, Bones had other people to fall back on.

Jim didn’t have that.

As fucking terrifying as that was, Jim tried to not let his anxiety show. His abandonment issues were not Bones’s problem.

So, he pasted on a smile and told Bones to bring him back a souvenir.

What Jim didn’t expect was for Bones to slap a lump wrapped in blue paper onto his bed the day of his departure.

“It’s your Christmas present,” the doctor said. “It’s not much, but I figured—you know—it's what friends do.”

Jim—who had been laying on his bed, reading—slowly took the present in his hands. Through the paper, he could tell it felt like some type of cloth.

When was the last time someone gave him a gift? God, almost a decade ago back on Tarsus. Even then, it was an exchange—

“I don’t have anything for you,” Jim said, upset that he didn’t have anything to reciprocate.

Bones scoffed, but he looked at Jim fondly before ruffling his hair. “Don’t need nothin’. Just stay alive while I’m gone. Be back in January.”

With that, he was out the door.

Jim sat for a couple seconds, turning the wrapped gift over in his hands.

Eventually, he tore into the blue paper to reveal soft, grey wool. The gift unfolded into a very cozy looking sweater that was about a size too big. Something bright and colorful clattered to the floor as the sweater unfolded.

Picking it up, Jim realized it was a gift card to a local clothing chain.

A laugh bubbled up from Jim’s chest. That old man couldn’t let anything go, could he? Jim’d come to San Francisco with the clothes on his back. He had one (1) civilian outfit, which Bones gathered after a couple off-campus drinking sessions. The doctor had been nagging him to buy more “people clothes” for months. Especially with the changing weather.

Briefly, Jim considered just giving the gift card back—because he could buy his own clothes, thank you very much—but Bones would probably take it as Jim not liking the gift. And Jim did like the gift. For no other reason besides the fact that it was a gift from Bones.

So, Jim pulled on his new sweater and went out shopping.

****

On his outing, Jim thought about getting a gift for Bones. The doctor had said he didn’t need anything; nevertheless, Jim wouldn’t feel right about taking a gift without giving one in return. What to get a grumpy Georgian? Clothes would basically be copying Bones’s gift. Antiques were Jim’s thing. Did Bones have any hobbies? Shouldn’t he already know this? They’d gotten so close so fast, that they’d kind of skipped the joe-schmoe get-to-know-you conversations.

Note to self: ask Bones about his interests beyond drinking.

He was almost about to give up when he spotted one of those fancy shaving kits. Bones always bought the cheap razors and the generic foam. Was that because he didn’t care or because he didn’t buy himself nice things?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

****

January rolled around, and Bones came back to the Academy. A box covered in bright red paper sat atop his bed. Inside, there was a shaving kit and a receipt.

Jim rubbed the back of his neck as he said, “You can return it if you don’t like it.”

The doctor scowled. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Bones took his kit and put it in their bathroom.

At first, Jim worried Bones was using the gift out of obligation. Those worries were put to rest by how Bones ran a hand over his chin after a shave. And by him muttering “smooth” while doing so. He also bought more of the fancy cream when he ran out.

Seeing Bones use and enjoy the gift felt awesome. That little, satisfied smile Bones got with a good shave was his. Jim had caused that smile.

Although Jim still didn’t become the most festive person, he did get into the habit of giving gifts around birthdays and the holiday season. Just with Bones at first. Then, his gift giving spread. Not to everyone. Just the important ones like Pike. It wasn’t even a totally conscious decision. People became important to him, and then he was buying them a fancy cheese because they mentioned liking cooking.

As weird as it was to buy cheese and realize you’d die for someone, Jim liked gift giving. He liked making the people around him happy.

1: Ka’athyra strings

Not a lot of people knew that Jim loved antiques, which was fair. It wasn’t like he broadcasted it, and it didn’t really fit with his public persona. Personas aside, Jim loved history. Antiques were a part of history that survived to the modern day. Some of them also looked fucking cool.

Anyway, Jim browsed local antique stores in his spare time that wasn’t spent with Bones. After the whole Nero incident, Jocelyn had decided that saving the world was enough to discuss proper visitations, so Jim’s antiquing time had increased by a lot.

During these outings, Jim would occasionally run across Vulcan artifacts or household objects. They were usually being sold for an obscene amount of credits. Occasionally, they’d be mislabeled as Andorian or whatever, which was honestly sad. Vulcan may be a hard language to learn, but the culture had a pretty distinct art style.

Jim would snap a picture of the Vulcan thingamabob and send it to Old Spock. Then, he’d hang tight to make sure no one else bought it.

That wasn’t the only reason he hung around though. He also liked watching the old Vulcan work. If a greedy shopkeeper didn’t want to give up his collectible, Old Spock eviscerated him. No mercy: the most polite, vicious verbal takedowns Jim had ever seen.

Then, he’d transform into an adorable grandpa, inviting Jim to tea and offering to tell him about the day’s thingamabob.

One December day, Jim was browsing a shop when he spotted a stone box. Polished, reddish-brown stone with beautifully curling Vulcan script carved into it. It was one of those boxes without hinges. You just lift the lid off, and that’s exactly what Jim did. Inside, he found metal strings along with a couple of knobs. They were separated into compartments, which were lined with a velvety cloth.

Jim took pictures of the outside and the inside, sending them to Old Spock.

Pi’khart-lan: Something you’d buy?

GrandpaBigEars: Indeed, it is a box of spare ka’athyra strings.

Pi’khart-lan: What’s a ka’athyra?

GrandpaBigEars: It is a musical instrument of Vulcan origin. Prior to learning meditation, many children are taught music as a method for channeling emotion. I myself learned the ka’athyra.

Pi’khart-lan: No one will get a chance to play with this set, huh?.

GrandpaBigEars: Most likely, the set will be stored indefinitely in a museum. Additionally, I am too arthritic to play with precision.

Pi’khart-lan: Seems like a shame. Instruments are meant to be played.

Looking at the strings, Jim wondered what type of sound they’d make. Would it be closer to a harp? A guitar? Maybe a ka’athyra was more like a violin.

The mental image of Spock—his timeline’s Spock—gliding a reverent hand over the stone box invaded Jim’s mind.

He shouldn’t. These strings were literally priceless. A relic that should belong to all surviving Vulcans.

The right thing to do would be to let Old Spock buy them.

Pi’khart-lan: If I, hypothetically, bought these. Would you report me?

GrandpaBigEars: Dear one, there is nothing more important to me than your well-being and happiness. I also trust that your reason for purchasing these strings is of a kind nature.

Jim had to put down the communicator, he was so flustered. How did Old Spock just say things like that?!?

Pi’khart-lan: You can’t just let me get away with everything. You’ll spoil me.

GrandpaBigEars: I find I do not care. Dr. McCoy shall ensure you are held responsible for troubling behaviors.

That brought a chuckle out of Jim. So, Old Spock got to spoil him while Bones dealt with the consequences? This guy really was such a grandpa. Did that make Bones his dad in this situation? No, Bones was a mother hen.

That thought conjured up an image of bones in a chicken costume.

It took him a couple minutes to get his laughter under control in order to haggle over the box.

****

Given the time of year, it was only natural for Jim to wrap Spock’s box before giving it to him. He was looking forward to the raised brow Spock would give him for the illogical practice.

Despite his initial anticipation, Jim got to thinking. Spock wasn’t human, so he probably didn’t celebrate Christmas. Vulcans probably didn’t have seasonal holidays. If they did, gifts would almost definitely be deemed illogical.

Would Spock refuse the gift on principle? It wasn’t like they were friends. Just because Jim got a glimpse of an alternate timeline where they were ride-or-die super friends didn’t mean Spock liked him.

As of yet, they’d only managed to be cordial to each other. Spock had refused Jim’s invitations to hang out, citing his involvement with the Vulcan’s colonization efforts. It made sense. From Spock’s perspective, they were little more than strangers. Plus, Jim knew the Vulcan thought he was obnoxious.

What would Spock think of an obnoxious near-stranger coming up to him and being like, “Hey, I got you something priceless for a holiday you don’t celebrate”?

Shit, it’d probably look like some kind of bribe.

Running a hand over the box, Jim smoothed the paper he’d already wrapped it in. He’d already written “For Spock” on it in big letters.

Well, it wasn’t like this was the last Christmas ever. The holidays came around every year. Jim would get to know Spock, build their epic friendship, and then that kind of gift wouldn’t be so weird.

Mind made up, Jim tucked the present away in his closet.

2: Star Projector

“I’ve been thinking about constellations,” Jim said to Spock one evening.

They were a couple months into their service together with Jim as captain and Spock as first officer. Shocking nearly everyone—Old Spock being the rare, smug exception—Jim and Spock made a great command team. They clashed on occasion, but they had an odd way of balancing one another. Where Spock hesitated, Jim could take instinctual leaps. When Jim started acting rashly, Spock tempered him.

What was more surprising than their professional harmony was that Jim managed to persuade Spock to spend time with him. Outside of work. Yeah, he couldn’t believe it either.

Somehow, they’d ended up playing chess together once a week. That’s what they were doing when Jim threw his constellations non sequitur out there.

Spock, despite the statement’s randomness, took it seriously and asked, “In what capacity are you considering constellations?”

“They’re kind of everywhere.” Seeing that Spock didn’t really get it, Jim explained, “What I mean is, they’re cross-cultural. In pretty much every civilization, they’ve looked up at the sky and drawn pictures.”

“Some species do not. There are those who cannot see light in the same visible spectrum, and there are species completely lacking in sight.”

“But every species that can see the stars has constellations.”

“That we know of,” Spock countered. He always had to make an allowance for the undiscovered, and Jim had grown to like that about him.

Taking a moment to move his rook, Jim said, “I think that’s a part of what marks a sentient species—not constellations, creativity.”

Considering both Jim’s move and his statement, Spock’s brow furrowed momentarily. It smoothed soon enough. Spock moved his knight. “Innovation and adaptability are necessary to advance as a species.”

The roundabout agreement made Jim smile, and they fell into comfortable silence. The movement of pieces on the board and Jim’s considering hums being the only sounds heard.

“On Vulcan,” Spock said into the silence, “one would learn the constellations from before the reformation. I took a particular interest in how they were used in navigation and crop cycles.”

Rarely, ever so rarely, did Spock offer personal information. He’d never offered any without prompting before.

Should he say something? Jim didn’t want to mess up whatever atmosphere let Spock open up to him, but he felt like he should say something. He should share something personal too. It was only fair.

An old memory popped into his head: one of the rare beautiful ones from his childhood. Jim looked out his room’s window at the stars streaking by. “I would make up my own constellations as a kid. I’d make up stories for them too. I made the Big Dipper into a shepherd’s crook for herding all the sheep people counted to fall asleep.” Jim looked back to Spock. The Vulcan was concentrating on him now, ignoring the board between them. “Did you have a favorite constellation?”

“I was partial to ‘the companions’ as a youth. The story of Talok and Kuvak was compelling to me.”

Although Jim waited for Spock to tell him the story, the Vulcan turned his attention back to the game. The air felt heavy as they finished playing in silence.

****

After their conversation about constellations, Jim did some research into “the companions”. It was a really cool story. These two Vulcan warriors were rivals, always competing over glory, water, women, etc. Over their competitions, they grew to respect each other and then joined forces into an unstoppable duo. The accounts got muddled over what kind of duo they were. Some said friends, some lovers, some brothers. That was mythology for you.

Whatever they were, Jim thought they were pretty cool. The story reminded him a bit of him and Spock. The companions: Talok and Kuvak, Kirk and Spock.

Looking at star charts of the constellation, Jim got to thinking about how no one would ever really see it again. Constellations were about perspective. The stars’ arrangement looked different from different vantage points. That’s why no one planet had the same constellations. Everyone had a different view of the galaxy.

The view from Vulcan was gone forever.

Except, they still had the star charts. Plug records into a computer, predict trajectories of celestial bodies, and maybe…

****

The process took a lot longer than Jim expected. He had to build the projector mostly from scratch, and that required spare parts from engineering plus his replicator rations. The programming also turned out to be way more of a bitch than Jim expected.

Overall, the thing took several months. Just in time for the holidays. Jim had learned that Spock celebrated Hanukkah, and he was planning to use that as an excuse to give him the star projector.

Celebrate a holiday that practices illogical gift giving, expect your friends to illogically gift you things. Eat it!

At least, that was his initial attitude. It was weird: the closer the first day of Hanukkah came, the more nervous Jim was. Had Jim ever been so nervous about a gift before? Maybe last year with the ka’athyra stuff… Was the projector on the same playing field? Jim’s gift wasn’t exactly priceless.

It had just taken a lot of time. Like, hundreds of hours to research, program, and assemble the thing.

No, this was different. They were friends. Kind of. Sort of. In a we-have-all-of-the-same-classes kind of way. Spock probably wouldn’t be his friend if they weren’t constantly together for work.

Was that enough to justify something Jim had poured his heart and soul into?

****

In the end, Spock received the same present the rest of the Bridge crew got: homemade cookies. He couldn’t even eat them because, apparently, Vulcans couldn’t have chocolate.

3: Meditation Supplies

Whoever said Jim didn’t learn from his mistakes—Bones—may have been onto something. The holidays rolled around again, and Jim had gotten Spock another present.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. It was just—they were talking in the hospital after the whole Khan thing, and Spock had mentioned how fortunate he was that his meditation supplies were stowed away. If they’d been out during the battle, they’d have been thrown around his quarters and broken.

Jim had been lucky too: he’d already moved his stuff into his San Francisco apartment, saving his books and the presents he already had for Spock.

With the reminder of how easily someone can lose personal effects on a starship, Spock would be storing his meditation supplies on Earth. They had been made on Vulcan-that-was; therefore, they were priceless.

The thing was, Spock now wouldn’t have meditation supplies. The Vulcan said he was, “perfectly capable of achieving meditation without aids”, but he used those “aids” for a reason, right?

Thoughts of Spock being all stupid and stubborn followed Jim throughout his recovery. They followed him past it too when Jim was released.

Then, he’d stumbled onto some crystal and spirituality shop.

To be fair, he only bought things he thought Spock might use: a meditation mat, some stones for centering, a variety pack of incense, and a holder to burn it in. The holder was shaped like a whale, and Jim acknowledged that it was objectively silly. It was also impossible for him to pick another one after seeing it.

Jim packed the supplies into a box, wrapped it in shiny paper, and wrote Spock’s name on it.

This isn’t weird, Jim kept telling himself. This might even be logical: Spock said he couldn’t use his Vulcan stuff. Giving him a replacement is logical. And you’re friends. Spock is your friend.

Psyching himself up, Jim took the package in his arms and made his way to Spock’s apartment.

He got close. So very close. Right outside the building when he ran into Nyota. She was also carrying a package, looking dazzling in her black winter coat and matching ear muffs.

Upon seeing him, she gave him a smile and a wave. “Hey, Jim. What’re you doing here?”

“I thought I’d give Spock a present.” For some reason, seeing Nyota obviously doing the same thing made him… uncomfortable. Weird. He pushed aside the feeling and returned her smile. “Great minds think alike.”

“I guess they do.”

“What’d you get him?”

“Well, Spock mentioned he was storing his meditation aids, so I thought I’d order some from New Vulcan.”

She looked so proud of herself, and she had every right to be. It was a great gift. A whole step above Jim’s. What better replacements could Spock have than ones from the surviving members of his race?

So what if it made Jim’s gift look bad? That wasn’t what was important. Spock deserved nice things. It didn’t matter who gave them to him.

That didn’t make Jim feel better about the whole thing, but it did help him force a cheery facade as he said, “Wow, that’s super thoughtful of you!”

“I try,” Nyota said, preening. “What’s yours?”

“Great minds,” Jim replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

It took her mere moments to connect the dots, and she gave him a sympathetic look “Oh, Jim.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m sure he could use doubles.”

“Nah. I’m sure he’ll like yours better anyway.” Her sympathy was only making him feel worse about the whole situation. Turning on his heel, he called back a quick “see you around” and left.

He’s pretty sure she called after him, but he didn’t register her words. The buildings were blending in his periphery. Jim didn’t even see what was in front of him. He just walked faster, nearly running away.

Emotions swirled around him, confusing him. Turning Jim around and around inside his head.

He was angry at Nyota. She’d beat Jim to the punch with Spock’s gift, but that should be okay. There should be no hard feelings: Spock got his meditation stuff. Happy end.

Only, Jim felt like he’d lost some kind of competition, which was fucking stupid. There was no competition. They were both in Spock’s life. It was just different. Jim was his friend, and Nyota was his girlfri—

Abruptly, Jim stopped in his tracks. People bumped into him before flowing around him.

Tears pricked the corners of Jim’s eyes.

So that’s how it was.

Unexpectedly, Jim started laughing. He just felt too much all at once and then he was laughing. He laughed and laughed and laughed because it was all too much. Falling in love with a taken guy was really too much.

Jim’s heart had shattered in his hand before he could think of giving it.

****

The meditation care package joined the ka’athyra box and the star projector in his closet on Earth.

Although Jim wanted to give the presents—any present—to Spock, he couldn’t. They were full of his love. Jim was sure his feelings would be obvious if he gave the gifts to Spock, and no one could know about his feelings. His love was unwanted. Spock was with Nyota. They were happy.

This love was a problem to hide, not a gift to share.

Painful as that was, Jim committed himself to hiding his problem.

By the start of the five year mission, Jim could act normal. Sunny smiles and friendly mannerisms in full force. The weight of his unrequited feelings were carefully managed in the quiet hours of the night.

4: Sweater (and mittens and scarf and hat)

“You made these yourself?” Sulu asked, looking over the woolen socks in his hands. His pair was yellow and green. “When did you learn to knit?”

“I learned the basics when I was like, ten?” Jim guessed. “I had a really cool teacher who gave me my first pair of needles and some lessons. I got back into it recently. I like having something to do with my hands while recording logs.”

Nyota smiled up from her red ones, “They’re lovely, Jim.”

“They look so warm,” Chekov piped in.

“A most logical gift, Captain.” Spock intoned. “Thank you.”

Hoping to God he wasn’t blushing too hard, Jim gave them all a wide grin and said, “No problem, guys. Happy holidays!”

****

What none of the Bridge crew knew was that Jim hadn’t just knitted six pairs of socks. No, his nervous hands had managed to also make two sweaters, a scarf, mittens, and a beanie. One of the sweaters was for Bones. The rest were a set.

Because he was absolutely hopeless, Jim had knitted an entire winter set with Spock in mind.

It’s just—Spock got so cold, and Jim wanted to warm him up. He knew it was sad, okay! Knitting was probably the healthiest way Jim could cope with this. Alternatives included drinking and being a homewrecker. Knitting was the best option by a long shot.

Alone in his room, Jim looked over his work. The clothes were made of soft, black wool. Silver stars decorated the sweater’s cuffs and the scarf’s ends.

At least he’d done a good job, and he’d been able to give Spock some socks.

Jim folded the clothes and put them into a box. The box lived in Jim’s closet on the Enterprise. Someday, it’d probably sit in his apartment’s closet in San Francisco.

Sighing, Jim wondered if he’d ever get over this longing.

You won’t, a voice inside him whispered.

In response, Jim decided he should knit a blanket.

5: Pendant

Old Spock was dying.

In their comms, Jim had noticed him slowly withering away. The old man worked too hard, put too much on himself. Jim tried to persuade him to take a break, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“I have already lived beyond my expected lifetime. Rest would only prolong the inevitable by months.”

“That’s a few more months you’ll be here,” Jim argued.

“Pi’khart-lan.” The way Spock said the nickname sounded like an admonishment, but the kind a grandpa gave hugging you. “As much as I adore you, my own crew waits for me.”

Biting his bottom lip, Jim held back tears. His voice cracked when he said, “I’m going to miss you.”

“Do not mourn for me, for I have lived well. I only wish the same for you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That is all I ask.” Then, a sudden gravity came over Old Spock. He leaned towards the screen with a serious face. A face he so rarely used around Jim. “I have one last piece of wisdom for you.”

Jim sat up straighter, preparing to hear whatever life-changing knowledge the elder Vulcan would impart.

“My younger counterpart is quite foolish.”

Though the way he said it was deadly serious, Jim couldn’t help but be startled into a laugh. “He’s you.”

“I am aware. I too was foolish at his age. I was not a decade older when I abandoned the only place I was ever truly happy.” Old Spock sighed, clearly pained by his past mistake. “My counterpart will likely attempt something similar. My passing will compel him to take upon my work with the colony. He will see it as his duty.”

“That’s—” Jim found himself choked up again by his emotions. Losing one Spock was bad enough. The grief over two was overwhelming. “Why are you telling me this?”

Old Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “Clearly, I expect you to persuade him to stay in Starfleet.”

“I can’t. His people are important to him. If he doesn’t go, he’ll regret it his entire life.”

“He shall regret it his entire life if he leaves.”

“Great, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

Briefly, Jim considered trying to convince his Spock to stay. That could easily go badly. Spock might be disgusted by Jim’s selfish disregard for New Vulcan and end their friendship. Say Jim somehow managed to convince him to stay. What if he grew to resent Jim after growing to regret the decision? The risks were too much.

Shaking his head, Jim said, “Who am I to decide that for him?”

“You are James Tiberius Kirk,” Old Spock declared. Like that alone could justify anything.

“That doesn’t give me the right to make decisions for him.”

For the first time in their friendship, Old Spock frowned at Jim. A pouty frown that was ridiculous on his wrinkled face. “You are both foolish.”

Exasperated, Jim threw up his hands, saying, “Not everyone thinks they have the right to control other people’s lives.”

“I will not speak to you until you agree to persuade him.”

“Uh huh, I give that five days.”

“A generous estimate,” Old Spock admitted. They both knew he was a sucker for Jim. Sighing once more, the Vulcan said, “I maintain that he is foolish for leaving, and you are foolish for not asking him to stay.”

There were a lot of things Jim wanted to say to that:

We’re different.

The situation is different.

I’m not your captain, and I never could be.

Maybe he won’t regret leaving me.

Maybe I’m not worth it.

Outloud, he said, “Okay, old man.”

****

With Old Spock’s warning, Jim easily picked up on the signs of Spock’s departure. There wasn’t a notice or anything—probably because Spock expected Jim to fight his departure—but there were plenty of other signs.

For instance, Spock broke up with Nyota. It was quiet and amicable. When asked why, Nyota said, “they wanted different things”.

After the breakup, Spock started distancing himself from the rest of the crew. The Vulcan wasn’t too sociable to begin with, and most assumed he was sad about the breakup. That could be part of it; nonetheless, Jim suspected he was trying to lessen his presence socially. That way, it would be a smaller blow when he left.

The most damning sign of all was that Spock was finally delegating his work. Despite being near territorial over his work, Spock was suddenly insisting on having assistants. Based on the paperwork, he was doing his best to train replacements. One for Chief of Science and one for First Officer.

Old Spock was dying, Spock was leaving, and the shine of space travel was wearing off. The longer they were out in the black, the more losses they had. The more mistakes Jim made.

Self-doubt rose like a tide within Jim. Filling him, overflowing.

Was he really cut out for this? The numbers said he was doing well. Based on the ratio of successes to failures, Jim was a good captain. But, surely, good captains didn’t drown from within. Good captains knew how to handle their own emotions. If Jim was a good captain, maybe he wouldn’t be so miserable.

Maybe Spock wouldn’t be leaving.

****

“Vice Admiral”

It didn’t have the same ring as “Captain”. Maybe, that was part of the draw: the position was very different. Slow, stable. A dressed-up pencil-pusher.

The complete opposite of who he was and the life he’d lived up to that point.

Deep down, Jim knew he was just running from his problems. That didn’t stop him from sprinting full force. Jim put his all into everything, including rash decisions. His application was immaculate. The interviews were a testament to his polished diplomatic skills.

As he neared the end of the application process, Jim was positive he’d get the position. So certain that he sold his San Francisco apartment, bought one on the Yorktown, and had his stuff from Earth shipped.

Once the Enterprise reached the station, Jim discreetly moved the stuff from his quarters to his apartment. The station rented out hovercarts, so Jim was able to do it all in one trip.

When he packed up his closet, Jim found the box of knitted things he’d made for Spock. Should he give them to the Vulcan? It may be his last chance to do so in person.

No, New Vulcan was a desert planet. Spock wouldn’t have a use for them there.

Come to think of it, Jim hadn’t gotten Spock a present that year. Hanukkah and Christmas had passed, yet no gift.

Huh, that was weird. Jim was pretty sure he was still in love with Spock.

Well—given Old Spock’s death, Jim’s midlife crisis, and the lack of shops aboard a starship—it made sense that he wasn’t obsessing about gifts he’d never give. This was a good thing really. Jim should break the habit now: how sad would it be if this continued for decades? For his entire life?

He’d run out of closet space eventually and have to rent storage. Eventually, he’d die, and someone would go through his stuff. What would they think of his dozens of unopened gifts, all labeled “For Spock”?

They’d know he was pathetically in love with the Vulcan.

Yeah, better to break the habit at four.

****

On his way back to his apartment, Jim spotted a holo-device store. A display window caught his eye, and he stopped to look. They specialized in wearable holo-devices. You could record messages for people to carry on things like bracelets or rings.

There was a reddish-brown pendant that caught Jim’s eye. It stand out well against Spock’s civvies. He tended to wear dark colors like black.

Wait, no. Jim was not buying this pendant. He was breaking this dumb habit.

Determined, Jim turned away from the display and marched off.

****

Not ten minutes later, Jim held the newly purchased pendant in his hands.

Fuck, he was pathetic.

Chapter Text

+1: Caught

Nothing like life-and-death situations to make you realize you’ve been a giant fucking idiot. What the fuck was Jim thinking trying to give up his crew? And for a desk job!

Truthfully, he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been grieving the death of a close friend and the departure of his unrequited love. And he’d been doing it alone. That can make a guy do stupid things, like try to give up his surrogate family.

Despite how dire Altamid had been, Jim was grateful that it reminded him of where he belonged.

He was Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Starship Enterprise.

Vice admiralship refused, Jim’s life was back on track. Old Spock’s loss still weighed on him, Spock’s impending departure still loomed, but Jim was where he was meant to be. Life wouldn’t be any better away from his people.

****

The birthday party was a surprise. Any other group of people, and Jim would’ve been right back out that door. But, this party was full of his favorite people. Just seeing them all put a smile on Jim’s face.

Good food, good booze, and great company made for an incredible evening. Definitely his best birthday by far.

What was a bigger surprise—but definitely contributed to the night’s awesomeness—was how Spock stuck by Jim’s side for most of the party. The Vulcan wasn’t one for large groups or noisy atmospheres. Both of those things were inevitable around Jim, the star of the show.

Yet, lo and behold, Spock was practically his shadow for the night. It wasn’t just a proximity thing either. No, he was also getting Jim drinks, touching his arm for no reason, standing closer than he usually would. Things that weren’t necessarily a big deal but would play on-loop in Jim’s lovesick brain.

Silly as it was, Jim wanted the party to last forever if only so that Spock would keep standing beside him.

The party did end eventually. “Eventually” was around 10:30 for them. Those with families and significant others had already bowed out. A group of fresh-faced ensigns talked about doing a bar crawl. Everyone else, Jim included, were too drained from the mission to want to do anything else but sleep.

In the wake of Altamid, the Yorktown had provided housing to the Enterprise’s crew. Because he already had housing, Jim was one of the few who opted out. This meant he was going in the opposite direction of his friends, so he said his goodbyes outside the lounge.

Most everyone just responded with their own goodbyes.

Spock was the exception. His brows furrowed.

Jim pressed his lips together so as not to smirk openly. Spock was genius levels of smart, but, sometimes, he got tripped up on little things. Like what their captain was doing in alternate housing.

Usually, Jim would clear up the confusion immediately—albeit with a lot of teasing. This time, he let it be and walked away. Confusion was good for the soul. Besides, it would make Spock think about Jim until the confusion was cleared up.

Yeah, Jim knew that was sad. Unrequited love did that to people.

Quick steps tapped behind him—interrupting his self-pity—and then Spock was falling into step beside him. Shooting him a questioning look, Jim asked, “Are your quarters down here too?”

“No, sir.” Spock said, carefully looking at the path in front of them. “All of the Enterprise’s crew without previous accommodations are housed in the Parkside units.”

“Then, you’re following me because…”

“Are you lodging with a paramour?”

The question felt like it came out of nowhere, and Jim answered without really thinking. “What? No. I have an apartment on the station.”

“I see.” Spock’s shoulders relaxed minutely. “I did not realize you had purchased real estate outside your San Francisco apartment.”

“You make it sound like an investment.”

Spock finally looked directly at Jim. “Was it not?”

“Nah, just part of a whim.” A whim that almost cost him his home and family. And would also be a pain in the neck later because he’d have to move again.

Having the Yorktown apartment was nice while they were waiting for the Enterprise to be rebuilt; however, he didn’t really need it long term since he wasn’t the vice admiral. A permanent residence on Earth made more sense.

Ugh, this would be such a hassle.

While Jim mentally lamented his impulsive housing decisions, Spock’s brow furrowed in confusion. He probably couldn’t comprehend what Jim’s whim statement meant.

That’s right, Jim thought, Think about me all night, Mr. Spock. God knows I’ll be thinking about you.

Before Spock could ask any questions, the human quickly interrupted, saying, “This is me. Have a good one, Spock.”

He practically ran up to his apartment, smiling like an idiot because his Vulcan would be thinking of him..

****

1:38. Jim was woken by his apartment’s doorbell at fucking 1:38 in the morning! Over and over again, ring ring ring riiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.

Sure, it was partially his fault for not putting the thing on do-not-disturb. He just hadn’t expected anyone to lack the decency to wait until 9:00.

Jim had half a mind to grab his phaser. Things that woke people up at ass-o’clock in the morning were automatically hostile lifeforms.

Wait, babies. Babies woke people up. But, whatever was ringing his doorbell wasn’t a baby.

It was fucking annoying, that’s what it was.

“Lights, twenty percent.” Throwing back his covers, Jim rolled out of bed. He didn’t bother to put proper pajamas on. You wake a man up after midnight, you better be prepared to deal with boxers.

“I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TEN TIMES,” Jim yelled as he marched to the door. “SOMEONE BETTER BE DYING OR I’LL—Spock?!?”

Sure enough, the Vulcan stood outside his door, finger over the doorbell. He nodded at the befuddled human and then pushed his way into the apartment.

Anyone else, and Jim would’ve pushed back, slamming the door in their face. Because this was the love of his life, Jim let him in. He was not happy though. “Spock, it’s the middle of the night. What was so important that you had to wake me up?”

“You have sold your San Francisco apartment.” Spock said instead of answering the question. “Your belongings have been shipped here.”

“How did you—?”

“There is an opening for the position of Vice Admiral on the Yorktown, and you have applied for it.”

“Okay, I know you don’t have clearance to see those applications. How did you—?”

Interrupting once more, Spock’s words came out all in a rush. “While there can be none more deserving of promotion than yourself, I ask you to reconsider this development of your career.”

“You—what? Why?”

The annoyance Jim had felt at being woken up, the frustration from being talked over, dissipated as Jim’s brain tried to make sense of Spock’s request.

Although Jim’s “why” had meant something along the lines of “why do you care?”, Spock interpreted it more as “why should I?”

The Vulcan straightened up, hands behind his back and began listing reasons. “You are uniquely suited to the position of Captain. Your charisma inspires confidence and loyalty. Your intelligence is marked by an ingenuity that creates remarkable tactics. Additionally, I believe space exploration to be more conducive to your mental well-being. You are one who historically thrives on variety and challenge. The position of Vice admiral would largely be a matter of politics, which you have expressed a distaste for. There are also—” Spock seemed to change his mind mid sentence and said, “Your crew cares for you. It is unfair to them for you to leave so abruptly.”

“Wait,” Jim interjected, “now, that’s just hypocritical. You can leave without warning, but I can’t?” There was a hesitation from Spock. A slight widening of the eyes that told Jim he was shocked, which was frankly insulting. “What, you didn’t expect me to notice? I’m your fucking captain, Spock. All of your paperwork goes through me. Of course I would notice you training your replacements.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jim took a breath to calm himself. He was getting worked up, and he shouldn’t let himself get worked up. He’d been trying so hard to be understanding of Spock’s decision.

Taking another breath, he lowered his hand to look at Spock again. Traces of guilt were bleeding into the Vulcan’s expression.

Shit, guilting Spock wasn’t what he wanted. He just—it was hard to not be hurt when people left him. That didn’t mean Jim wanted to hurt him back.

“I mean, I get it. Your people mean a lot to you, and you didn’t want us to make a big fuss over it. Still, you don’t get to turn around and scold me for acting the same.”

“You are correct. I intended to leave for New Vulcan and carry on the work of my counterpart; regardless, my intentions have changed. I desire to stay aboard the Enterprise, and I beg you to come with me.”

The words Spock spoke were in Standard. Clearly enunciated. But, he couldn’t possibly mean them. Spock was leaving for New Vulcan. He’d decided to leave the Enterprise and Nyota.

And Jim.

There were too many questions and emotions whirling around in Jim’s head. All he managed to say out loud was a choked, “What?”

Spock must have taken the question as a refusal: his face momentarily fell before turning into a scowl. Practically growling, Spock demanded, “Explain your reasoning behind your departure. I will refute it. Any issues you have, I will resolve them.”

That was the point where most people would’ve explained the misunderstanding.

Only, the way Spock barged into Jim’s apartment… The way he was begging, demanding Jim to stay. It wasn’t logical. Spock was letting himself be driven by emotion, and Jim wanted to pull that emotion to the surface.

Folding his arms, Jim put on a defiant expression. “What if there’s nothing you can do? What if nothing you do is enough, and I decide to stay on Yorktown?”

Spock’s mouth opened and then closed. He didn’t have an answer: he hadn’t considered the possibility. Or, he hadn’t let himself consider it.

Forced into a corner, he was considering it now. Sharp eyes analyzed Jim’s expression, his demeanor. Jim could practically see the Vulcan analyzing the problem.

“Should my persuasion fail,” Spock finally said, “I will find a position here.”

“Why would you do that? There’s nothing for you here.”

“You are here. That is enough.”

Grabbing Spock by the front of his shirt, Jim pulled him into a kiss.

With all of the passion he’d kept hidden, Jim devoured Spock’s mouth. His lips were warm and soft. His nose brushed against Jim’s cheek. Stubble scratched against stubble. All of the sensations—everything that told him, this is real—were so achingly precious to him.

It only took a moment for Spock to get with the program. Soft lips moved against Jim’s, and he wrapped an arm around Jim’s waist. Gentle, yet firmly holding them together. Spock’s other hand came up to cradle Jim’s face, his thumb stroking Jim’s cheekbone.

Soon enough, the kisses grew more heated. Jim’s hands migrated under Spock’s shirt, and Spock had responded by teasing the waistband of Jim’s boxers.

They tripped into Jim’s bedroom, stumbling because they couldn’t bear to part for the brief walk.

Despite the Vulcan’s clear desire, he hesitated when they got to the bed. Jim’d all but fallen into it, but Spock didn’t follow. He stood over Jim, panting. Looking conflicted.

“What’s wrong?” Jim asked.

“I—if it is only once—I cannot if it is not the same for you.”

“Oh, Spock.” Sitting up, Jim took Spock’s hand in his own. The Vulcan whimpered but didn’t pull away.

While Jim could explain his feelings with words, that didn’t seem like enough in that moment. He wanted Spock to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Jim loved him. He wanted to share what had been hidden for so long.

Focusing on where their hands met, Jim let himself love.

Spock fell to his knees with a gasp. He trembled as Jim had never seen him tremble before, holding onto Jim’s hand for dear life.

Suddenly, Jim felt a response of emotions from Spock. A love that wasn’t exactly the same but harmonized with Jim’s.

Jim pulled Spock up to the bed by their joined hands. This time, there was no conflict nor hesitation.

****

Tickling breaths on Jim’s neck woke him. Was there someone in bed with him? His eyes opened a crack and then flew the rest of the way open. The person whose face was tucked into Jim’s neck had black, shiny hair. And pointed, green-tinged ears.

All at once, Jim remembered the previous night. The confrontation, the realizations, the—

Spock snuffled against Jim’s neck, causing the human to chuckle.

Waking up a bit more, Jim realized Spock also had an arm and a leg wrapped around him. The Vulcan was warm, like the galaxy’s most logical electric blanket. The warmth was comfortable. Jim was a little tempted to let it drag him back to sleep, but he wanted to be awake for this moment. He was enjoying the feeling of them tangled together. Speaking of tangled, Spock had an incredible bedhead. Jim wanted to get a hand in it so bad.

Then, Jim realized he could. Spock’s hair was so soft! And the Vulcan made rumbling noises when he stroked it.

Jim could’ve spent years laying there, stroking Spock’s hair, if he didn’t have to go to the bathroom.

Carefully, he tried to slide out from underneath Spock. The Vulcan responded by pulling Jim flush against him, trapping the human in an iron embrace.

“Do not leave,” Spock whined into his neck.

“I’m just going to the bathroom. And this is my apartment. Where would I go?”

The tips of Spock’s ears flushed green. His hold on Jim loosened, and Spock looked a bit sheepish as he pulled back. “Apologies. I have yet to meditate. My control is not as it should be.”

“So,” Jim said teasingly. “Your knee-jerk reaction is to hold me tight and never let go?”

“Yes.” The blunt admission flustered Jim, sending butterflies aflutter in his stomach. Luckily, Spock didn’t expect him to respond since he pushed forward saying, “However, my behavior can also be explained by the fact that I am… nervous regarding the status of our relationship.”

Admittedly, that was fair. Spock knew Jim loved him, but he didn’t know what Jim wanted out of their relationship. Jim wasn’t exactly known for commitment.

Leaning in, Jim kissed the hint-of-green blush on Spock’s cheek. Spock turned to catch his mouth for an indulgent, open-mouthed kiss.

When they parted, Jim whispered, “We can be whatever you want us to be.”

Hesitantly, Spock asked, “Mates?”

“Done.” Spock’s eyes widened a little, like he couldn’t believe it was that easy. “Do I get to call you my boyfriend?”

“That is acceptable.”

“Alright, now let me go pee.”

****

Jim took a little longer than was perhaps necessary in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and wiping the sleep from his eyes. He’d have showered too, but Spock wasn’t the only one feeling a bit clingy. Confessions, falling into bed together: it all felt too good to be true. Like a really awesome dream that would make Jim cry once he woke up.

In the mirror, Jim saw the bruises on his hips, the hickeys dotting his neck. They stung slightly when he pressed them.

Jim grinned. That felt real alright.

“I was thinking about breakfast,” Jim announced upon leaving the bathroom. “We’ll have to go out because I haven’t had time to get groceries.”

Spock—who had been kneeling on the bed, meditating—asked, “Do you not have a replicator?”

“I do, but I like to eat real food when I get the chance.”

“Despite its subpar taste, sustenance from the replicator is ‘real’.” Spock unfolded himself from his meditation posture, going to sit on the edge of the bed. Jim walked over and sat himself in the Vulcan’s lap. Immediately, Spock wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist. Nuzzling the juncture between Jim’s neck and shoulder, he spoke in a low, enticing voice, “You shall also have plenty of opportunities for non-replicated meals during your posting on the Yorktown.”

Although Spock’s sexy voice was doing things to him, the mention of his supposed posting brought Jim back to reality. They hadn’t really talked the other night, so Spock didn’t know. “Right, um—that’s—I kind of already turned down that promotion.”

Stopping his nuzzling, Spock drew back. His brows furrowed as he puzzled out the implications Jim could see the pieces click into place, followed by the Vulcan glaring up at him. “You deceived me.”

“Maybe a bit,” Jim admitted. “It was for a good cause: I’m not sure I would’ve ever kissed you if you didn’t basically profess your love.”

Expression softening, Spock said, “Had you not taken the initiative, I would have.”

And there was something so comforting about knowing that. Even if Jim had never gathered the courage to cross that line, Spock would have.

It was wonderful, but it seemed out of nowhere to Jim. “How long have you felt this way?”

“It is difficult to say. The love I have for you is built of many things, accumulated since our first encounter. I could no sooner put a measure of time to it than I could for the beginning of the universe.”

“I—uh—I guess that’s fair,” Jim stuttered out, feeling his face heat up with a blush. “When did you know then?”

“I realized the nature of my affections last October 25th. I elected to not attend the crew’s Halloween celebration.” Spock looked fond as he recalled that night. Jim remembered that night. It was after Spock had broken up with Uhura, during his efforts to distance himself from the crew. Knowing his time with Spock was running out, Jim hadn’t wanted to give up a single night. “You faked a headache in order to join me in my quarters. I was overjoyed.”

Not knowing how to respond, Jim fell back on teasing, “Looks like I’ve got you beat. I’ve known for years.”

“Truly?”

“Yup.”

“I apologize for the delay,” Spock seemed genuinely upset that he made Jim wait so long.

Jim would be lying if he said it hadn’t been hard seeing Spock with someone else. Thinking his love would always be unrequited had been torture.

But, it wasn’t all bad. They’d still been friends, and being friends with Spock was awesome. Jim wouldn’t give up the time they’d spent together for anything.

Leaning in so that their lips brushed when he spoke, Jim said, “You can make it up to me.”

“What do you desire?”

“Breakfast.”

****

Breakfast ordered, they decided to officially get out of bed for the day. They first dressed in Jim’s civvies—Spock looked incredible in jeans—so as not to give their delivery person an eyeful.

Next order of business was finding plates. The only problem was that none of the boxes in Jim’s apartment were labeled, so they had to open them one-by-one until they got lucky.

“The lack of an organizational system is most impractical,” Spock complained after the second box of books.

“That’s not my fault. I didn’t pack these,” Jim pointed out. “C’mon, pick another.”

Tape was torn off, flaps pulled back, and it opened to reveal a bunch of packing paper. Fragile stuff: that could mean plates. Spock picked up a paper-covered object. It didn’t look plate-shaped, but Spock began to take the paper off anyway. Jim suspected that he was enjoying the opportunity to snoop.

Well, Jim was fine with that. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide.

Or so he thought.

Beneath the paper was more paper. Bright red wrapping paper with little santa clauses on it. Panicking, Jim lunged forward, trying to snatch the present away.

Spock dodged, probably mostly on instinct. But then, he took a keener interest in the present. He turned it over in his hands, pausing when he found the words written on it. “This is my name.”

“I—it was an accident!”

“You accidentally wrote my name on a holiday-themed parcel?”

“Yes…?” Spock raised an eyebrow at him, and Jim flushed with embarrassment. “No, I didn’t.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Jim sighed. “It’s a bit of a story.”

The Vulcan looked at the present, then at Jim’s embarrassed face.

To Jim’s surprise, instead of demanding answers, Spock held the gift out to him.

As he took the present from Spock’s hands, the Vulcan asked, “Will you tell me the story?”

Holding the present with one hand, Jim smoothed the paper with the other. There was no rational reason to not tell Spock. They were together after all.

And it’s not that he didn’t want to tell Spock. It’s just—the whole thing made Jim feel so vulnerable.

Gathering his courage, Jim kept his eyes on the present as he said, “I like to give gifts during the holidays. I’m sure you’ve noticed I give the Bridge crew something every year. And Bones gets his own present. It’s just something I do for people I like.” Jim had to take a moment and swallow down the lump in his throat before saying, “Every year since we’ve met, I’ve gotten you gifts.”

“I have never received any gifts from you outside of those given to the Bridge crew at large.”

“That’s because I’m a fucking coward when it comes to relationships. I wasn’t sure how to give them to you without it being weird. By the time we were close, I was in love with you. I was so scared you’d know how I felt if I gave them to you.”

Spock’s hands covered Jim’s own where they rested over the present. Low and gentle, Spock said, “I am aware of your feelings now. May I open my gifts?”

“That would make sense…” Jim bit his lip. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“I swear to curb my boisterous, teasing nature.”

Jim snorted, which was probably Spock’s intention. The bastard.

****

They ended up not finding the plates before their delivery boy came, so they just got crumbs on the table.

Breakfast was over rather soon. Spock looked at Jim expectantly, causing nerves to resurface. Still, he said he’d do it. Jim rummaged through the box they’d opened to find the other two presents from his San Francisco apartment. Then, he retrieved the box of knitted clothes and the bag with the pendant from his closet.

“If you don’t like them, don’t lie to me,” Jim said as he placed the gifts in a line on the floor. “You don’t have to keep any of them. I could find some other use for them.”

“I will keep all of them. They are mine.”

“You say that now, but you have no idea what they are. For all you know, I got you a giant dildo.” Jim sat on one side of the line.

Spock knelt on the other side of the line. “Did you purchase me a giant dildo?”

“No, but you didn’t know that.” Jim pushed forward the first present, the one wrapped in red that Spock had found. “We’re going chronologically based on the year I got them.” He pointed to the red present. “Oldest,” then to the bag with the pendant on the other side of the line, “to newest.”

“Logical,” Spock said with a nod.

Like the ginormous dork he was, Spock opened the present by peeling off the tape and unfolding the wrapping paper.

“It’s meant to be ripped,” Jim pointed out as Spock picked at the tape.

Resolute in his task, Spock said, “That would create a mess.”

Jim rolled his eyes, but he watched on fondly.

The paper unfolded to reveal swirling letters carved into reddish-brown stone. Briefly, Spock’s eyes widened, and then his entire face softened as he gazed up at Jim.

Flustered, Jim said, “Don’t just look at me. Open it.”

Amusement danced in Spock’s eyes, but he turned them back to the box. His hand traced the Vulcan script before lifting the lid carefully. The lightest of gasps escaped the Vulcan. Green-tinged fingers hovered over the strings, not daring to touch.

“You did not know me, yet you purchased such a treasure for me.” Spock’s gaze came back up to rest on Jim adoringly. “These are worth a fortune.”

Unable to handle the full force of Spock’s gaze, Jim looked to the side, trying to seem non-chalant. “Well, the guy I bought it from had no idea what he had. He let me talk him down to 50 credits, so it’s not a big deal.”

“On the contrary, this gift holds great emotional and cultural significance to me. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The box was closed carefully and set to the side. Jim looked back to watch Spock open the second gift.

Predictably, the initial reaction was curiosity rather than wonder. The holoprojector was of Jim’s own creation. Its function wasn’t readily apparent.

Although Jim was confident Spock could figure out how to work the thing, he stepped in. “Here, let me help you set it up.”

Jim showed Spock how to unfold the projector’s three legs and balance them without tipping the whole thing over. Two parts made the body: a screen and a round head that was angled upward.

“Lights at five percent,” Jim called out, and the apartment dimmed. “What’s an important day to you?”

“The day of our coupling.”

In the dim light, Jim couldn’t completely see Spock’s face, but he sounded deadly serious. That somehow made Jim even more flustered. “I—um—today then.” He typed the date into the projector and then laid down on the floor.

“Jim, why are you—” Spock cut himself off when the round end of the machine suddenly erupted with light. Millions, billions of dots of light came to life on Jim’s ceiling. Arranged just so to create— “Vulcan,” Spock whispered. “You have replicated the night sky from its surface.”

“I spent forever trying to decide on a place on the surface to base the sky on. You know, because it’s a different view depending on where you are. There were some mountains near Shikahr that I thought would be good for stargazing.”

All of a sudden, Jim’s view of the stars was blocked by a Vulcan head. Spock descended on him, kissing with such fervor that he was swept away in it.

Minutes or moments later—could’ve been years for all Jim knew—Spock rested his forehead on Jim’s.

“You have given me all of the stars in the sky,” Spock breathed against Jim’s lips.

“You’re making it sound better than it is.”

“It is priceless. You are priceless.”

Laughing nervously—because what do you say to that?!?—Jim said, “Guess I’ll never top that gift. It’s all downhill from here.”

“I shall enjoy whatever gifts you give to me. They are proof of your affection for me.” Pushing himself up, Spock said, “I shall prove it by opening the remainder of your gifts.”

“Wait,” Jim caught Spock’s wrist to stop him from leaving. “Can you show me ‘the companions’ before we get to that?”

Spock placed another kiss on Jim’s cheek before rolling off him, laying beside the human. “Certainly.” The Vulcan’s elegant hand came up and pointed to a cluster of stars. “There are two lines that cross. They share a star. Do you see them?”

“I think so.”

“Those are Kuvak’s and Talok’s arms, intertwined. From there, it is simple to find their bodies. Kuvak holds a lirpa in his other hand. Talok holds an ahn’woon.”

Humming, Jim took Spock’s hand in his own. “You know, I wondered what Talok and Kuvak were. The translations I read didn’t agree, and I was wondering if that was because there are different versions of the same story or if the translations I found just sucked.”

“I do not understand the question. Clarify.”

“I mean, what were they to each other?” Jim reached up his hand that wasn’t holding Spock’s to trace the constellation. “The translations called them friends, brothers, lovers, soulmates. Which was right?”

There was a pause so long that Jim wondered if he had said something wrong. Then, Spock said, “They were all incorrect. The bond between Talok and Kuvak is known as t’hy’la; therefore, all of those labels apply, yet none fully encompass their relationship. T’hy’lara are companions of every nature. Bound in katra before the birth of Vulcan itself.”

“Wow,” Jim whispered. “That’s pretty romantic.”

Spock squeezed his hand and whispered back, “Indeed.”

They laid there, admiring the stars for a little while longer until Spock sat up.

“Come, I must prove I value all you can give me.”

Grateful for the dim lighting, Jim blushed again. “Stop saying shit like that. I’m going to get you a gag gift someday. It’ll be stupid and illogical and you’ll hate it.”

“You underestimate my affection for you,” Spock said as he picked up the next box.

“You underestimate my ability to find stupid, useless shit.” While Spock struggled to find the tape, Jim turned off the star projector. “Lights, 80 percent.” He then sat down next to Spock, leaning against him.

Upon opening the box, Spock’s face schooled into the blankest expression Jim had seen all day. “It appears you are correct, Jim. I cannot fathom what use I could have for mediation supplies.”

What unease rose in Jim disappeared as he caught on to the joke. He tried to ot laugh because that wasn’t funny, but he started chuckling. The chuckles grew and grew until Jim was clutching onto Spock for support, unable to stay upright from how hard he was laughing.

“Thank you for the gift, ashayam,” Spock said, sounding unfairly pleased with himself. “Most logical, and,” he picked up the whale incense holder, “I must admit I have a certain fondness for Terran marine life.”

Once he had enough breath to speak again, Jim wheezed, “You’re a little shit, and I love you so much.”

“My fondness for you goes beyond words.”

The next gift wasn’t wrapped because Jim had kept adding to it for a while. Plus, he’d figured he’d knit more in the future.

Expressions were back, so Spock got a little half smile when he pulled the knitted blanket out. His brows raised as he realized there was more. He pulled out the beanie and then the mittens and then the scarf and then the sweater. All in soft, black wool. Silver stars detailing them.

“You are a prolific knitter.”

Shrugging helplessly, Jim said, “I’ve got fiddly hands.”

“A fact I have not failed to notice.” The way Spock looked at Jim was softer than any wool, and it made Jim’s fiddly hands pluck at the fabric on his knees. “These clothes are of excellent quality and seem quite warm.” Spock refolded his new clothes to store them back in the box. He paused at the blanket, holding it up. “These were made in the same year you gifted socks to the Bridge crew, correct?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Dr. McCoy boasted over the sweater you made for him,” something like triumph glittered in Spock’s eyes, “but you made me a blanket.”

Rolling his eyes, Jim said, “It’s not a competition.”

Spock made a humming noise that told Jim he didn’t exactly agree.

“Am I going to have to knit Bones a blanket to keep the peace?”

That brought a little-not frown to Spock’s face. “Unnecessary. There is no conflict.”

Graciously, Jim chose to drop the subject.

Unless he caught wind of Spock and Bones fighting about his knits.

The final present wasn’t wrapped. Jim had that meeting with Paris and then Altamid, so there wasn’t really time.

Long fingers reached into the bag and pulled out the reddish-brown pendant and the cord Jim had bought for it.

“Curious,” Spock murmured. Jim was about to tell him that he needed to press the gem, but Spock did so without any explanation.

A small hologram of Jim was projected above the pendant. The upper half of him anyway.

The holographic Jim smiled in greeting.

“Hey, Spock. I know this is late, but happy holidays. This is my gift to you; though, I guess it’s more of a gift to myself. Now, you might ask,” The little Jim held up his pointer fingers over his own eyebrows, angled like a Vulcan’s brows would be. He put on a blank expression as he imitated Spock. “‘How is this a gift to yourself? It is clearly addressed to my person.’”

The Vulcan in question raised an eyebrow at the real Jim. In response, the real Jim imitated his holographic self and raised a finger to mirror Spock’s eyebrow. Scoffing, but looking distinctly amused, Spock turned back to the hologram.

“Well, it’s a gift to myself because it’s selfish. I know you’re leaving for New Vulcan.” The little Jim did jazz hands as he said, “Surprise! I can pick up context clues. Anyway, this gift is meant as a reminder. I know, I know. You have an eidetic memory. You’ll never forget me,” a sad smile played on the holographic Jim’s face, “but that doesn’t mean you’ll remember me.”

At this point, Spock glanced up to Jim. He looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to refute Jim’s past words. Jim held up a hand. Show’s not over yet.

Reluctantly, Spock turned back to the hologram.

“Odds are, you won’t actively think about me or wonder how I’m doing. Not the way I’ll wonder about you. I’m going to think about you every day, multiple times a day. So, this is my selfish attempt to get you to do the same. Everytime you wear this, or just glance at it, you’ll remember me. Please, remember me, Spock. Think about me, even if it’s just when you see this necklace.” Jim’s hologram took a steadying breath before smiling at Spock with unabashed love. “Kirk out.”

The hologram disappeared.

Clutching the pendant in both hands, Spock cradled it against his chest. “I did not require a reminder,” Spock said softly. “You would have always been in my thoughts regardless.”

“Does that mean you don’t want the necklace?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than yours,” Spock continued, ignoring the attempt at deflection.

Unsure of how to handle the intensity of the moment, Jim buried his face in Spock’s shoulder. Spock wasn’t having it. He turned to fully face Jim and grabbed the human’s face in his hands. Reluctantly, Jim looked directly into Spock’s earnest face.

“I cherish thee above all things. I apologize for my actions that have made you doubt this.”

“It’s okay.”

“It is not. I have been foolish and hurt you with my foolishness. After my counterpart’s death, he left me his belongings. Through them, I realized I could not go to New Vulcan. I realized, should I leave you, I would regret it for my entire life because the place I am happiest is by your side.”

Pushing Spock’s hands aside, Jim pulled him into the tightest hug he could manage. His arms were a vice around the Vulcan, doing his best to mold his body against him.

Spock rested an arm around Jim’s back. His other hand gently cupped the blond’s head.

The gentle hold nearly broke Jim. He whispered because he might cry if he spoke any louder. “You can’t leave me now. I’ll die.”

“I have no intention of parting from you.”

“Good.” Jim tried to squeeze in closer. “Just so you know, I usually only do one gift per holiday. And they can’t always be this awesome. I’m gonna get stumped sometimes. I might just knit you socks some years.”

There was a little huff against Jim’s hair. “I shall endeavor to moderate my expectations.”