Kirk had found this civilian bar in San Francisco not far from where he lived. They took a booth in a back corner, comfortably anonymous out of uniform. No one would expect to run into three of Starfleet's most celebrated officers here. Kirk ordered a beer while Spock and McCoy bickered good-naturedly about their own choices of drinks.

"Aw, 'c'mon, Spock, you're no fun. Remember that green Andorian stuff we had on Star Base 7?"

"Indeed I do. As Jim has a ship's christening to attend tomorrow morning, we should avoid a repeat of that particular scenario at all costs. Especially the part with Admiral Komak's untimely entrance."

McCoy hooted with laughter at that, while Spock looked on in silent amusement and leaned across the table to attempt to rescue the drink menu from the doctor. Kirk took pity on their server and ordered for his friends.

The arrival of their drinks interrupted their reminiscences about that unfortunate adventure, or, rather, Spock's reminiscences, as both humans had trouble remembering what had happened as the night had worn on. Kirk's choice to order Spock a spiced Vulcan tea won him a nod of thanks, while McCoy toasted them both with his bourbon.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" he asked, leaning back against the padding of the booth.

"Nothing much, Bones. Take her on a turn around the solar system, answer a few reporters' questions, the usual circus." He waved a hand dismissively.

"Are you acquainted with the new captain?" Spock's new ambassadorial duties kept him away from Starfleet more often than not.

"We haven't met." Kirk took a drink. "I suppose we'll all we be hearing a lot of him these next few years."

"Our lady does tend to draw attention, even if she isn't our lady exactly." McCoy agreed.

Spock inclined his head. "As do her captains."

They were both looking at Kirk, though they didn't seem to have any expectations. Good. He would always miss sitting on the bridge of the Enterprise, but he had accepted the fact that that was no longer where he belonged.

He raised his glass. "Well, if her mission is anything like ours were, the best of luck to her."

McCoy enthusiastically returned his toast, Spock following a moment after. McCoy noticed the slight hesitation.

"Oh, is toasting illogical now?"

Kirk tuned the ensuing argument out, letting their voices combine into a comfortable white noise. The beer was warm in his stomach and he felt truly relaxed. Just five years ago he never would have believed that he could be content doing anything other than captaining a starship and yet here he was.

He looked at the Vulcan sitting next to him. Spock was often away seeing to his ambassadorial duties, which he seemed to enjoy in a way Kirk never could have predicted. He had settled well into the role. Kirk knew he consulted often with Sarek; the current warmth of their relationship was another surprise. Kirk remembered Spock's stiff reluctance to interact with his father on that journey to the Babel conference. It was good to see some healing of that gulf.

It was good as well to see how much Spock had changed in the years since they'd first met. It wasn't that he had mellowed, exactly, but more that he was now much better able to accept himself: not fully Vulcan, somewhat human, a unique being. Perhaps the time his katra had spent in McCoy's head had done him some favors, but Kirk thought this was more the culmination of a gradual process, one he imagined had been set in motion by Spock's friendship with two emotional, illogical humans.

"Hey, Jim? Hey!" Kirk came back to the present to find McCoy regarding him with that familiar piercing gaze. "You alright?"

"Honestly, yes. I'm… content." The word felt right. Maybe it was the beer talking, but Kirk felt like this was where he belonged, here in this booth, at this bar, with these two people. Maybe his alcohol tolerance wasn't as good as it had been in earlier days. Maybe it didn't matter if it was the beer or not.

McCoy snorted softly. "Content. Sound like a Vulcan."

Spock sipped his tea, choosing not to dignify that with a response.

"And you, Bones, what about you?"

McCoy smiled behind his glass. "Oh, content."

Time had changed McCoy as well. Since the fal'tor'pan he'd been warmer and gentler with Spock. Not that Kirk thought McCoy had ever disliked Spock, but sharing a head had changed their ways of interacting. In some ways, McCoy was more open now than he'd been during either of their five year missions. For years, Kirk had told McCoy things he would never tell another soul, but it had taken a long time for McCoy to ever do the same with him.

They had gotten there eventually, though sometimes Kirk wanted to kick his past self in the pants for never trying to dig a little deeper with McCoy as he had always done with Spock. Still. They were all here now and they were all a little beat up but mostly okay.

Kirk leaned back into the booth's cushion, nursing his beer, and watched as his two best friends argued semantics and how a word could 'sound Vulcan' and whether that was a stealth insult or a compliment or both. Tomorrow he'd be up on the Enterprise-B, Spock would be cloistered away in another important diplomatic conference, and McCoy was heading off to visit his daughter for a while. It wasn't often that they could spend time together, all three of them. It might be a while before they were reunited again.

For now, though, they were here and he was content. It was enough.