Author's Note: Hey, everyone! This is my second fanfiction ever, and the first fanfiction where my OC isn't so…Mary-Sue-ish, and my first crackfic. I have no clue why I'm writing this in August…though it's not as Christmas-y as it sounds. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Star Trek except for my OC.
Warnings: This is like…fanfiction on sterriods, yet it's still a good read and makes sense. Any religious mentions meant no harm. Holiday story. Brief drinking.
December 23rd. Being a Vulcan, Spock never had much exposure to the winter holidays of Earth, though he knew quite a bit about them. The First Officer's home planet didn't have any type of festivity even remotely similar to Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanza, or any other of the Terran holidays. Be that as it may, he wasn't at all surprised when he heard the news of a holiday party aboard The Enterprise. Spock came to realize that the humans' emotional need to celebrate specific winter dates while on a Federation starship orbiting a rather warm planet could not be suppressed...or avoided. The Captain had requested that Spock attend the gathering, even if only to observe the religious and non-religious traditions of his fellow crew. He had agreed, and on the day of the party had gone to the mess hall.
It seemed as if he were the only officer aboard the Enterprise who wasn't celebrating. Lieutenant Uhura, clad in traditional African dress, stood with several other men and women who were also dressed accordingly, waiting around seven red, black, and green candles. Spock noted this as a tradition of the non-religious Kwanza holiday, then continued to observe the crew. Unsurprisingly, Captain Kirk was off in a distant part of the room with a yeoman whose name was unknown to Spock, and above the two hung a sprig of leaves and little pearl-like berries. This plant, he later researched, was called mistletoe. Ensign Chekov (with a small bottle of vodka) was a few feet away from a menorah, the helmsman Sulu chatting with him while drinking a glass of sake. Both were laughing, oblivious to everything but their drinks and memories. Mr. Scott was sitting at a table with some other engineers, a small plate of shortbread and chocolate in front of him and scotch in his hand. Even Doctor McCoy, admiring a decorated pine tree with Nurse Chapel, had a smile on his face.
Never had Spock witnessed anything comparable to what he was experiencing at that moment. Fir trees and pine trees, all clad in ceramic and glass orbs, sparkling crystals, strung popcorn and tinsel, colored lights, with either a star or an angel perched at the tip lined the mess hall. Candles, for Chanukah and Kwanza as well as just for appeal were everywhere. Rice paper cut into the shape of snowflakes hung from the ceiling, confetti was sprinkled onto every table. Wreaths hung near the entrance and exit, food synthesizers producing gingerbread men and sugar cookies, shortbread and peppermint, chocolate, sugar plums, lemon drops and raspberry tarts, an infinite amount of alcohol, milk, cheeses, coffee and tea, pound cake with frosting and sprinkles…the list went on, and the entire room held the scent of holiday treats. People played music, both with newer instruments and with objects such as the ancient viola. Songs of bells and snow echoed around the area, those who could were caroling, though there weren't many. The Vulcan continued to observe, noticing that December was a very emotional time for Earth men, memories of Christmas passed making the majority of the crew long for their families at home. It seemed that no one was unhappy during these festivities, and even if they held no religious beliefs, the human would come up with something to celebrate—many simply rejoiced over the winter solstice. Some exchanged small wrapped boxes tied with bows. The style of dress greatly varied, about half of the crew donning their dress uniforms, and the other half either wearing traditional clothing of their culture or casual, holiday-related dress.
"Well, Spock? What do you think of our Earthly ways?" asked McCoy, suddenly beside him with a small, expectant grin on his face. Spock raised an eyebrow and turned to him, again glancing toward James Kirk, who was now passionately kissing the yeoman.
"Quite frankly, doctor, I find it…fascinating." the Vulcan responded, seeing Bones shake his head out of the corner of his eyes. "It is illogical. I fail to understand why so many resources be needlessly used for irrelevant human nostalgia."
McCoy glared at him. "Does everything need to have a reason, Spock? It's tradition. It helps preserve the essence of our history as a race. Everyone's more cheerful during the holiday season. Plus," Bones said, raising the champagne glass in his hand upward a little bit, "food and drink tastes ten times better in December." He smiled and took a sip, which he almost choked on when he noticed Captain Kirk under the mistletoe. McCoy reluctantly asked, "Does Jim even know that woman's name?"
"I highly doubt it."
The doctor groaned, shaking his head. "Oh, well. He will soon." Bones concluded.
The two friends talked and walked around, discussing the many winter holidays and their meaning, as well as a few Vulcan traditions. McCoy had to explain to Spock what eggnog was, about the ghosts of Christmas passed, present, and future, and why exactly the crew kept making comments on phasers involving the sentence "You'll shoot your eye out.". Spock mainly remained at the party, though he went to the bridge every once in a while to make sure every station was manned by a sober officer and everything was in order. The Vulcan didn't do much but converse and observe, though he did have a mint julep and later a warm cup of tea. As the night went on and the mess hall became slightly less crowded, Kirk eventually made his way over to Spock and McCoy.
"Ah, Mr. Spock, very kind of you to join us." Jim said with a smile, a little tipsy. McCoy stayed directly behind him, worried that he'd walk into a wall or something. "Observed anything interesting?" He asked, stumbling a bit. Bones held out a hand to keep Kirk steady.
"Indeed, Captain." Spock raised an eyebrow. "I have witnessed several accounts of human intoxication due to drinking too much."
Bones suppressed a laugh while Kirk pouted. "Yeah? Well…it happens. Live a little, Spock! 'Tis the season. Oh, by the way, I just got married."
The Vulcan and McCoy exchanged glances, Spock's a confused one and McCoy's more of a 'What the hell?' one. The science officer sighed, "Congratulations, sir. May I ask to whom you are now betrothed?"
"That fine young lady over there." Kirk pointed to the woman who he had been under the mistletoe with.
"Ah. A very beautiful woman. What's her name?" McCoy asked, a mischievous smile on his face.
"Her name?" Kirk asked. "Oh. It's, uh…" His brow contracted in puzzlement for a moment. "Yeoman!" The Captain finally concluded, looking quite proud of himself.
"Yeoman is an occupation, Captain, not a name."
"Yeah, don't drink anymore, alright, Jim?"
"Sure, sure." Kirk responded dismissively, taking another swig of bourbon. Bones signaled Spock, who started a very intricate conversation with the Captain. While Kirk was engaged in the discussion, McCoy slithered the alcohol out of his hand. Jim didn't even notice.
A cluster of excited officers crowded around a table near the center of the room. At that moment, Spock noticed a very alluring aroma. A scent unlike any he had ever encountered. It seemed he was not the only one who had noticed the fragrance. Kirk and McCoy both gazed longingly into the crowd of crewmen.
The doctor took in a deep breath through his nose and said, "Jim, is that what I think it is?"
A smile crept onto the Captain's face. "Well, Bones, only one way to find out." He said with a shrug, stepping over toward the crowd. McCoy eargerly followed, not saying a word to the confused Vulcan. Spock finally surrendered to his curiosity and made his way over to the table as well. The three senior officers pushed their way through the mass to get to the table in order to find the source of all the commotion.
The table had dozens of coffee mugs on top of it, though the liquid inside the mugs was certainly not coffee. Nor was it tea. It was slightly lighter than any coffee Spock had ever seen, and had unidentified swollen white objects floating in it. This was the source of the aroma, though to the Vulcan it did not look even slightly appetizing. Handing these drinks out to the crew was Ensign Èprouvé, the young helmswoman who he, the Captain, and the doctor had befriended. Kirk and McCoy both stared unblinkingly at the steaming brown liquids. After a few moments of quietness due to shock and silent worship of the drinks, the Captain finally spoke.
"What have you got there, Em?" Kirk asked, his gaze unbroken. The Ensign turned to them, smiling slightly.
"Hey, Jim, Spock, Bones," She said, acknowledging each officer as she said their name. "I was wondering when you'd get here. My lovable brother decided to send some hot chocolate to me—enough for the entire crew. It's real as can be. Real hot chocolate with real marshmallows…straight from New York. Go ahead, take one."
Kirk and McCoy wasted no time in accepting the Ensign's offer. They both grabbed a cup and immediately took a sip. Èprouvé watched expectantly, as did Spock. Any remaining stress on the doctor's expression melted away, Jim's face lit up with delight.
"Wow!"
"Hah! I haven't had hot chocolate since I graduated high school!" McCoy exclaimed with a laugh. "This is great."
"Emily, of I could promote you for this, I would. I think I'm in love with hot chocolate." Kirk said, taking another gulp. "Oh, gosh. My wife won't like that. I might have to file for divorce. She just won't understand my love of warm cocoa."
Èprouvé raised an eyebrow, but smelling the alcohol on his breath, just decided to go along with it. "I'm sure your wife will appreciate you being honest, sir." She said, sincerity in her raspy voice.
McCoy turned to Spock, noticing he hadn't tried it. "What's the matter, Vulcans afraid of marshmallow?" He asked, taking another drink.
"On the contrary, doctor, it is only that I am not entirely sure what it is." Spock concluded. Kirk, Bones, Èprouvé, Sulu, and several other officers' mouths dropped open in shock.
"You don't know what marshmallows are." Jim repeated, exasperated.
"Nor 'hot chocolate'."
Some people gasped, others began to talk amongst themselves about how anyone this side of the universe could not know about hot chocolate or marshmallows. Kirk blinked in surprise.
"Hot chocolate, Mr. Spock, is…exactly that. Chocolate powder added to boiled water with milk. Age-old instant perfection. Heaven in a cup."
"Go on, Spock, try it." McCoy urged. "In fact, I prescribe it. It may very well be the reason your blood is green."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I believe I have told you numerous times, doctor, that the color of my blood is due to the copper—"
"Just shut up and drink it."
The Vulcan stared at the drink with something in his eyes that resembled reluctance and disgust. "I must say that the solid white substance looks most…unappetizing."
McCoy pressed his palm to his face, and Kirk just shook his head. "They're marshmallows, Spock. Made out of sugar."
"Come on, sir, try it!" Someone urged. The Vulcan took note that this must have been the so-called peer pressure that young adults from Earth were notorious for. What the humans didn't understand was that to someone who had never seen them before, marshmallows looked like some form of melted cottony fungus. Spock sighed, finally giving in, and carefully took a mouthful of the drink.
The flavorful sensation was like a jubilee on the Vulcan's tongue. The warm chocolate taste combined with the sweet melted marshmallow worked together to give Spock an experience unlike he had ever had before. Never again would he underestimate the power of gourmet cooking.
For an instant, and only for an instant, fast enough that only himself and the Captain noticed, Spock actually smiled. He suppressed it the moment it happened, and Kirk decided he must have imagined the cheerful expression. Spock simply raised his eyebrows, glancing curiously at the drink.
"Fascinating." The first officer stated, exasperated. Èprouvé laughed quietly, Bones rolled his eyes, and the Captain, slightly more sober now, just shook his head with a smile and put a hand on the Vulcan's shoulder. Everyone went back to their own business, amused that they had witnessed the first time their science officer drank hot cocoa.
Meanwhile, Chekov had been driven into a corner. His weapon had long since fallen to the ground far away from him, just out of reach. The Ensign had been forced to defend himself against the intoxicated helmsman, his best friend—Sulu. Unlike the navigator, Sulu's weapon was still in hand thanks to his glorious fencing skills, and he had it held up to Chekov's throat.
"Give up, Pavel?" Sulu asked, smirking devilishly. Chekov leaned back as far as he could, twisting his head a bit to try to evade his certain death.
"Don't do it, Hikaru!" Chekov pleaded. "We've been such good friends! Remember our fond days at zee akedemie? Remember? All zee good times we had on the bridge?"
"Those days are long gone. You had your chance, and now…you're finished!" Sulu pulled his arm backward, ready to slice Chekov's throat open, but someone grabbed his weapon away from him. Sulu and turned to see who the thief was. Uhura stood behind him, staring nonchalantly.
"Alright, you two, I think you've had enough vodka and saké for tonight." Nyota said with a dreamy smile. Seeing the two officers' horrified expressions, she added, "You do realize that you were 'fencing' with candy canes, right?"
Sulu released the navigator, keeping eye contact with Uhura. He put a hand behind his head, blushing a little, and laughed quietly. "Eheheh…of course we realized. We were just, uh…" Hikaru trailed off, unsure of what to say.
"Reenacting zee famous Russian battle of December 28th, 1932." Chekov interjected. "You see, Queen Wicktoria of England decided zat she wanted a piece of Russia. Ah, but zee Russians, we are smart! We lured her into a trap, faking a formal surrender to be discussed een Moscow. Zen, just when she thought everything was safe, zee czar attacked her with a sword, and eet all went downhill from zere. Eet was a wery bloody battle, but een zee end, Russia prewailed. And zat ees how Peter zee Great triumped over England."
Sulu glared back at Chekov. Uhura just blinked, then with a smile said, "Yeah, so like I said, you two best head back to your courters or you'll be too hung-over to run the helm tomorrow."
Spock, despite being completely and fully thrilled with his newfound love of hot chocolate, had witnessed Sulu and Chekov's misadventure. As usual, the ensign's claim was highly false. Drinking more of his third cup of cocoa, the Vulcan continued to examine his surroundings.
Riley had danced an Irish jig, Mr. Scott watching but too drunk to take part in it. After the Irishman had finished his dance, the Scotsman raised a glass of scotch up and proposed a toast. "Te Mister and Misses Kirk, may their marriage be long-lastin' an filled with happiness. Let's hear it fer the newlyweds!" Those who were still at the party cheered.
Èprouvé, staring uncomprehendingly at Scotty, leaned in closer to the Vulcan and the doctor. "Bones, Spock…Jim didn't…actually get married, did he…?" She asked with a hushed cough.
The First Officer also stared, and took another swig of hot chocolate. It never ceased to be delicious, and he found that it had helped him see the humor of things. He simply stated, "I certainly hope not."
"Jim," McCoy said urgently, stepping over to him. "When exactly did you 'marry' that woman?" He asked, suddenly slightly concerned.
Kirk pouted in thought. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe…an hour, two hours ago? It was a beautiful wedding, pity you three missed it. Scotty did a brilliant job with the vows and documents. He made an excellent preacher."
Èprouvé covered her mouth both in shock and to keep herself from laughing, McCoy's mouth hung open, and Spock's eyes widened in unseen amusement. "Fascinating." The Vulcan concluded.
"Fascinating?! Dammit, Spock, this means Jim's legally married to a woman he doesn't even know!" McCoy said furiously. "What are we supposed to do about that? I'm a doctor, not a divorce attorney." Leonard turned to Captain Kirk, suddenly a bit upset. "You didn't even invite me to your wedding." He accused.
"I told you, Bones, it happened so fast." Kirk said with an apologetic shrug. "It seems like only yesterday I married my dear, sweet yeoman. My life is flashing before my eyes." The Captain stated wistfully.
"You married her today!"
"Doctor, it is my understanding that humans often suffer amnesia after drinking large amounts of alcohol, do they not?" Spock asked. After McCoy gave him a nod, he went on, "I presume that if we allow the Captain, Mr. Scott, and the yeoman to continue drinking, they will not remember the events when they awaken tomorrow."
McCoy and Èprouvé exchanged sly smiles. "That works." Bones resigned, replacing Kirk's hot chocolate with a rum swizzle.
The party went on for a few more hours, but near the end nearly everyone had passed out or had left, though the entire crew was quite content. In the middle of the night, Spock had woken up with an uncontrollable urge that he did not even attempt to fight. He got up and walked to the mess hall, feeding his craving for his seventh glass of hot chocolate of the day. The Vulcan decided that he now preferred this delectable cocoa drink to tea. Acknowledging this, he made a mental thank-you to the strange Earth customs he had just learned to love.
To boldly go where no man has gone before…