A few months passed by and the winter holiday seasons were upon the Enterprise. Jim was getting a crash course in diversity; last year he had asked all crewmembers to submit their holiday information and now he was scrambling to help observe all these days again. When the first Andorian holiday had passed, Jim's attention was captured by the instance known as Thanksgiving.
As he had already explained to his second-in-command, he had obtained a tofurkey, and after much gnashing of teeth he got the recipes to go with it. Davids, the head chef, had assured Jim he could fix the strange dish and have it ready for the dinner without compromising on the rest of the meal. The turkeys had been sitting in the deep freeze for half a year now, and had taken their sweet time thawing but were now roasting merrily in the ovens. The side dishes were prepared and on standby.
They decorated the main Mess Hall and, in eight shifts, the whole crew would be welcomed to dinner. The first group was composed of mainly Alpha shift, which included the head bridge crew.
Jim sat at the table with Chekov, Scotty, McCoy, Chapel, and Uhura. He was watching the last person carefully, because she had appeared without her beau. The group was talking as they ate, remembering holidays at home. Jim listened half-way, still scanning the room.
"Jimmy. Hey, Earth to Jim." McCoy waved his hand at the captain.
"Huh?"
"Keenser asked you a question." McCoy put another forkful of potatoes in his mouth.
Jim turned his head to the Engineering worker. "What?"
"Is this a real turkey?"
"Oh. Yeah. There's a farm on Earth that raises them specifically for the holiday. I had a few shipped out early this year." Jim sipped his soda.
Keenser's dark eyes shifted. "So what is this 'tofurkey' people are eating? Is it another species?"
The table broke up into laughter. "No," Jim explained. "It's made out of something called tofu. I thought the non-meat-eaters among us would appreciate their own dish."
"What, precisely, is tofu?" Keenser pressed.
"Uh …." Jim hesitated. "I'm not precisely sure. It's not meat."
Forty-five minutes into the gathering, the chief Science officer and First Officer of the ship made an appearance. Chekov waved him over and the group began recommending dishes to the slender man.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Spock," Chekov exclaimed.
Spock sat carefully beside Uhura and nodded to the navigator. "Thank you, Mr. Chekov. The same to you." He began eating and Jim's Spidey-senses were tingling. It was five minutes before Jim realized what was bugging him. Spock hadn't said word one to Uhura, nor had she said anything to him. But they were sitting together. Perhaps it was the best they could do.
Seeing the two of them together still hurt Jim, and he tried to focus anywhere but that end of the table. McCoy could sense his friend's turmoil and followed one of the longing glances over the spread to the Vulcan. The medic sighed and tried to remember that Jim was a grown man, and if he wanted to fall in love with the one being who would never love him back, that was his choice. It was McCoy's job as his best friend to pick up the pieces when he failed.
After the meal, Jim walked to the smallest observation deck on the ship and locked the door by his captain's code. He stood watching the stars, feeling an ache in his chest that he couldn't name. He thought he would be alone for the night, but a chorus of beeps alerted him to someone overriding his command. There was only one person on the ship with that kind of access.
McCoy walked in and locked the door again. He was carrying a large bottle and two glasses, one of which he offered to Jim.
"Nothing washes down turkey like Jim Beam. Welcome to the holiday season, Jim. I hope it's easier on you than it is on me."
Jim accepted the drink and sipped at the liquid gratefully. "I'm sorry, Bones. Have you heard from Michele?"
"Huh-uhn," the other man grunted. "She bitched at me to get the last support check early and when she got what she wanted she dropped off the face of the Earth again." He sipped his drink. "Jim, can I ask you a question as your friend, not your CMO?"
"Of course," Jim replied softly.
"You're pining over someone, aren't you?" McCoy replenished their drinks. "I don't know who," he lied, "and I'm not going to even hazard a guess. But you've got the same look on your face that you did when you were after Carol. Please be careful, Jim. If the person's on this ship, if you make the wrong move you'll have to face them for the rest of the cruise."
Jim looked into his glass at the amber liquid for a long while. "I know, Bones. That's what scares the crap out of me. I can mess up a lot of really good things if I'm not careful. But the want is still there." He gave a mirthless laugh. "I'm probably always going to be too chicken to do anything about it anyway. Don't worry about me."
"Jim, whatever happens, I want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for you. If you want to pursue this, then I'll support you all the way. If you just want to long for the person from a distance, I'll still support you. You're my best friend, Jim. You're all that matters to me." The medic took a large drink and turned away to hide his blush.
The captain finished his drink and handed the glass back to his friend. "I'm turning in. It's been a long day. Thanks, Bones." He unlocked the door and walked out of the room. McCoy stood staring at the stars in motion before sensing something. He turned around to find the First Officer standing in the doorway.
"I did not intend to intrude. I was looking for the captain."
"You just missed him," McCoy answered slowly. "He went to bed, but if you hurry – " Spock turned and left. " – you might catch him up," McCoy finished to himself. He privately wondered if he could handle another four years with those two idiots playing tag all over the ship. Finally the doctor headed back to his quarters for the night.
