Title: No Place like Home
Author: ELLE
Pairings/Warnings: Kirk/Spock, fluff, mild angst, mild language
Notes: Written for Miss Murdered's and I's "Twelve Days of Christmas" prompt challenge. The prompt was "twinkle lights."
The ship was quiet, the bridge empty. It was past midnight by ship hours and the night crew was sparse. Kirk had nodded at the few crew members he'd seen on the way back from his quarters. He just couldn't sleep.
The taste of brandy still lingered on his tongue. He'd had a bottle saved for special occasions, only did a shot every now and again. Maybe this was as good an occasion as any – felt a little silly though, drinking alone on Christmas Eve.
Kirk's fingers ran over the control panel, opening the window to the vastness of space. No matter how much time he spent here, he still felt this was the best place on the ship to be. Staring out at the stars never ceased to amaze him. It was the closest he felt to his father – proof that his blood pulsed through Kirk's veins. The same drive, the same desires.
But today it wasn't about that. Today it was the closest he'd had to Christmas lights.
Kirk didn't get homesick very often – it really wasn't in his DNA. But there was something about Christmas that just made him miss the farms, forests, and hidden rivers of Iowa – as difficult as that was to admit. And sure, Scotty tried every year to rig up some kind of display in the cafeteria but it wasn't the same. It wasn't like home, where his mother dotted hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows and hung white lights across the eaves of their home. It was one of the only times she ever seemed truly happy and it was infectious. He was doomed to love Christmastime too.
"Excuse me, sir, but I hoped to discuss mission parameters with you and though I checked your quarters, you clearly were not there."
Kirk tried his damnedest not to make a face as he glanced over at Spock, who had come to stand beside him. Spock appraised the scene beyond the observation screen along with him – for which Kirk was thankful. He really didn't feel like discussing mission parameters at that moment, but then Kirk suspected that may have been a ruse just to check on him. Not that Spock needed a reason to see him but then – if anyone was aware of Kirk's pride, it was Spock.
"Did you celebrate Christmas on Vulcan, Spock?" Kirk asked, a grin flirting on his lips
"Negative," Spock responded, as neutrally as ever. "My mother did not believe in celebrating human holidays on Vulcan. She feared that it would make my childhood more difficult."
Kirk grunted, trying not to laugh. What he knew of Spock's childhood was limited but he knew that despite his stellar academics, his social interactions were... strained.
For a moment they were quiet but then his curiosity got the better of him.
"Are there Vulcan holidays? Like Christmas?"
Spock's eyes narrowed in that judgmental way they had a habit of when he was disappointed in him.
"You neglected your social studies," Spock answered evenly.
"You know I did," Kirk replied, vaguely irritated, but not really at Spock.
"There are, of course, Vulcan holidays," Spock said. "But none like Christmas."
"Oh?" Kirk asked, sliding a little closer to Spock, an unconscious lean in his direction that he couldn't have helped even if he had wanted to.
"Christmas is one defined day but humans spend over a month celebrating it. Vulcans do not have holidays like this."
Kirk chuckled and turned his head fully to look at Spock, cool and at ease as he stared into the inky blackness of space, dotted with faintly twinkling white lights. They reflected off his dark eyes – a galaxy in and of themselves, Kirk knew. He couldn't help it – he had always found Spock gorgeous. Even when he was so mad at him that he wanted to punch him straight in that handsome face.
"But that's the best part," Kirk smirked, playfully leaning in to bump into Spock's shoulder with his own. "A whole month where everything just feels special."
Spock raised a curious brow at him and Kirk just knocked his knuckles against Spock's.
"If we were on Earth you know you'd have to do it all with me, right?"
"'It all?'"
"Tree trimming, bad but classic Christmas movies, hot chocolate, pie – oh, hell yeah – pie," Kirk enthused, getting caught up in the memory of real pecan pie.
"The replicator can make you a pie," Spock pointed out but Kirk just rolled his eyes.
"It's not the same – trust me."
"If you say so."
Normally Kirk would be irritated at a comment like that but he could tell that Spock was smiling – albeit it in that tiny, reserved way he only did when he was truly amused by him.
For a few minutes they were quiet again, staring into space. It was hard, out here. Even with the crew, being so close to them – even with Spock. It was easy to feel alone.
"My mom always went all out, you know?" he said at last – missing her, the way he always did. "I don't think she really ever got over my dad's death but somehow, Christmas just changed her. She loved it."
Spock's hand reached for his, palms meeting. His fingers moved just slightly against Kirk's, in that intimate way that seemed so natural to him, so comforting. Kirk knew Spock missed his mother too – in a way Kirk could never really understand. He could go home. Spock didn't even have a home anymore.
"I think she would love to have you there, you know?"
Spock's lips thinned as his hand went slack against Kirk's, clearly uncomfortable with the implication. But Kirk stopped him – slipped his fingers between Spock's and squeezed. He was going to say something, that he was sorry for assuming or that he wanted him there too or something, because something was going to come out of his mouth, it always did, but then Spock spoke instead.
"I think I would like that, too."
Kirk smiled over at him as Spock squeezed his hand as well, glancing back at him with his own small smile.
And although he was still homesick and nothing short of actually being home was going to fix that, this felt good too. The stars, the universe, his home within that – Spock by his side. If things were different, if things were normal – the way they were normal for other people, people on earth – then he wouldn't really be happy. He knew that. Instead, he would be homesick for a world he didn't even know, a world he had now.
"Kiss me?" he murmured softly, a request he hoped that Spock would indulge just this once even despite their agreement to confine their personal relationship to their quarters.
Spock did – leaning into him, tugging him just a little closer with his hand and kissing him softly in front of a sky full of stars and maybe Kirk was just a sucker for romantic gestures but in that moment it was enough to make him feel like he was truly home.