A/N: I hear people are complaining(ish) about the large quantities of sex in this fic. This is very strange to me, since I'm basing the promiscuity off of my own high school experience—so, I guess my high school was (more) filled with sluts (than is normal).

It's like people are different or something. Weird!

x

Enterprise High

being a high school AU of ST: XI

with many hijinks

and much angst

x

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Paradise Syndrome

x

The coach of the Enterprise High swim team was confused. Her swimmers had been practicing much more often than they usually did. There were only twelve people on the swim team: seven girls and five boys. The new kid, the one with the smile, had become their unofficial leader, even though the Vulcan kid was officially the captain. Together they got the team to up their practice from three times a week in the morning to seven or eight times a week—every morning and a few afternoons.

It was all quite perplexing. None her swimmers seemed more excited than usual about the upcoming swim meet. They weren't practicing with marked enthusiasm or improvement. But the increased work input was starting, almost accidentally, to show in their times. Mirmanee Scharf had cut her backstroke time by an entire fifth almost on accident, and Spock (the captain) was starting to be seriously good at butterfly. Edith Keeler, the best swimmer on the team, was on her way to becoming the best swimmer in the district. Kirk was even coming in second occasionally. Compared to everyone else, Kirk (the smiling kid) was mediocre, but for a second-year swimmer, he was incredible.

"I do not by any means wish to discourage this behavior, but why have you been scheduling so many practices?" the coach asked Spock in the middle of one particularly long swim practice after school, a few days before the Thanksgiving meet. The coach was half-Betazoid and tried to sense Spock's emotions, but Spock was evidently very talented at hiding his emotions even from himself, and anyway, she had always had a difficult time sensing non-humanoid and non-Betazoid emotions if they weren't strong enough.

Spock shrugged. "My fellow swimmers and I have simply felt the pull of the water more often than we expected," he said. "We have become friends, and enjoy spending time together as well."

The coach felt a spike of something gentle in Spock's aura, aiming in the direction of Kirk, who was talking animatedly with Mirmanee. The coach smiled, understanding.

"I see. I am proud of your teamwork. I think that you will all do very well at the meet on Sunday."

The truth was that Spock wanted to spend time with Kirk, and Kirk wanted to spend time with Spock, but neither of them wanted the other to know it. So they made friends with everybody on the swim team and convinced them to come to practice. Their teammates were charmed by Kirk and motivated by Spock, so it worked out well, although with a side effect—Mirmanee and Edith were starting to hang around Kirk more than they normally would. Kirk, knowing his plan was backfiring, couldn't figure out how not to be inherently seductive and accidently slept with both of them a few times. Oh well, he thought. Team bonding.

As a team, they did very well during the meet that Friday night, although Kirk didn't qualify for anything (he claimed a frustrating fourth in every event he entered). Spock got first in breaststroke and second in individual medley, and Edith placed first in three 500m categories. Their coach was delighted.

Scotty and Uhura, tag-teaming as reporter and photojournalist for the school paper (The Eagle, after the school mascot), covered the meet. Uhura bounced up to Kirk, wielding the camera. Scotty was currently interviewing the coach.

"I can't believe you've only been swimming for four years," said Uhura, adjusting the f-stop so that she could take a photograph of the natatorium. "You're much better than Edith was a year after she started swimming."

"Thanks," sighed Kirk, who had a towel wrapped around him and was lounging unhappily in a fold-out chair.

"No, seriously," said Uhura, turning to him, switching to black and white, and snapping a mood picture. "Fourth is really good for this meet. And you nearly beat Janice Lester's time on the 100m freestyle."

"Oh, good," said Kirk. "Do you know why she hates me, by the way?"

Uhura shrugged. "She's not particularly stable. I wouldn't worry about it. No, don't look at the camera. You're not supposed to pose. Mind if Scotty asks you a few questions?"

"Sure," said Kirk, looking pointedly away from the lens. "Doing an article on the meet, I assume?"

"Yep! The paper comes out Friday after next, so you know."

Something occurred to Kirk. "How's today's football game?"

"It's going well." Uhura grabbed a chair and hiked herself onto it to get a better angle. "News said that Leo caught a big pass at the end of the first quarter. Much better than usual, huh?" Bones, after his injury at homecoming, had been suspended for three games, all of which the Eagles had just barely lost. The football team's dreams of going to state were over.

"At least we're winning something," said Kirk. He kicked his heels as Uhura kept taking pictures. "So, what do you have next week?"

"The physics test—you have that too. And an oral interview with my Vulcan professor." Kirk made a mischievous oh, is that so? face, and Uhura climbed down to whack his arm. "I will have a conversation with him in Vulcan. You have such a dirty mind."

"Hey, you're the one who had an oral interview with him this summer," said Kirk.

"I will actually hurt you," Uhura warned, brandishing the camera at him.

"Okay, okay, truce. So what about Thanksgiving? Any elaborate plans?"

Uhura's face fell abruptly. "My grandmother was supposed to come down, but she and my dad—had a disagreement. So I'm not sure what we're doing."

"You could have Thanksgiving with us," said Kirk, extending the invitation without a second thought. "Sam and Aurelan are getting settled down in our house and he and mom are fighting, like they always are after more than two days in each other's company—even though without each other, they're both very, very nice people—and outsiders would make Thanksgiving dinner much less about Aurelan and I exchanging exasperated glances over the stuffing." Kirk paused to consider what he'd just said. "Not that I would not be delighted to have you under any circumstances, of course."

"Of course," said Uhura diplomatically. "I'll ask my dad. It could be a good idea. We've always been terrible at cooking anyway. It's weird, we get the turkey right every single year even though we've cooked it a different way every time, but the rest of it… I mean, last year I somehow managed to mess up the green bean casserole, and it has, what, four ingredients, and basically consists of pouring and stirring."

"I'm so sorry. Yes, I will ask mom at my earliest opportunity," said Kirk. Behind Uhura's shoulder, he saw the coach waving at him. "I've got to go, Coach Troi is calling me. See you tomorrow!"

Uhura pecked him on the cheek and let him leave.

The football team won their game by a good margin, so the school was in excellent spirits on the following Monday, three days before Thanksgiving. However, most everybody was too busy studying to do much celebrating other than a wide smile: a majority of Enterprise's teachers had decided to give tests the next day, since it was the last day before the Thanksgiving holiday.

Sulu got a study group together for physics that consisted of everybody in the hoverclub, Mirmanee, Edith, Janice Rand, and Tony Giotto. They met at the Shore Leave and were actually productive, although both Spock and Kirk had a difficult time concentrating, Spock because Kirk kept touching his hand and Kirk because he kept touching Spock's hand.

And then, at about nine o'clock, Mirmanee said something about sleeping with Kirk the week previously. Nobody really paid it any mind—although Uhura took time out of her review of magnetic field theory to call Kirk a slut—except for Spock, who had taken every conquest of Kirk's like a punch to the stomach.

Edith, who had an eye for people, brought Spock with her to get more coffee.

"For how long have you lived in San Francisco?" she asked, leaning against the counter and watching him as they waited for their orders. She had snow gray eyes, Spock noticed, so light and pale that they seemed utterly colorless.

"Seven years, now," said Spock. "It is a pleasant city."

"Yes," said Edith musingly, pushing her chin forward in that forceful way of hers. "But you don't fit here, not really."

The mauve-skinned barista sat down their drinks and winked at Edith. She smiled vaguely back at him.

"Really?" said Spock, not really paying attention to her as he picked up his latte. "Where do I belong, then?"

She turned effulgent eyes on him. "I don't know where or how. I'll figure it out eventually."

Spock looked at her. "What do you mean by that?"

Edith shrugged. "I'll leave it open to your interpretation." She took an almost impertinent sip of her coffee. "Let's go back upstairs."

Spock wasn't sure what to say, so as was his way, he said nothing at all.

x

Spock arrived home late that night. He went to find Sarek, who was in the mess.

"When in Rome," said Sarek. He stood casually, meaning that his posture was relaxed only to Vulcan eyes—his back was straight as a board, and his shoulders were stiff and high—watching the workers in the stainless-steel kitchens.

"Eat tofurkey?" said Spock, following Sarek's gaze. "As catchphrases go, it is not the best."

"I agree," said Sarek serenely. "Yet we are in America, which was the Rome of its time."

"Decline and fall included." Spock pursed his lips at the scene before him. The Vulcan head chef was crafting a turkey out of flavored tofu to be served at the embassy's Thanksgiving dinner. "Why do they consume turkey, father? Why not another meat?"

"I doubt that they know, themselves," said Sarek. "It became the tradition much after the initial 'day of thanksgiving' of 1621. It is remarkable that the holiday has survived this long, considering the many upheavals that have occurred to American society. The holiday is only recognized in the region of America; unlike Ridván, Eid ul-Fitr, and Christmas, it is not an official Federation holiday."

Spock was well aware of the official holidays of the Federation. "It is a primarily Christian holiday, is it not?"

"Yes," said Sarek, and Spock could tell that he was launching into a lesson. "You recall that the English occupation of the Americas began inauspiciously? Yet there is a famous moment in their history, a moment with the date of 1621 (as I mentioned before), when the English aliens and the native Americans supped together. Various inexact days of Thanksgiving were declared until American independence, when the practice was standardized somewhat, and by the era of Franklin Roosevelt, a distinct Christian tradition had been established."

Spock was not one for social history, and he did not know, in detail, these facts. "And so it continued."

"Uninterrupted, to the present day," said Sarek. "The Americans are known for their—to use a local phrase—hard-headedness."

"To imply that one's cranial density produces obdurateness is… incorrect."

"It is idiomatic."

"Ah. The travails of language."

"Indeed."

They were quiet for a moment.

"I must study," said Spock, turning slightly towards Sarek. "I plan to achieve a perfect score on this test."

"Of course," said Sarek, continuing to face forward. "I will forgive a ninety-nine, but no less."

"Thank you, father," said Spock. He hesitated, watching Sarek's unmoving profile. Then he left, threading his form through the hallways until he found their apartment, and his desk.

x

"This is strange," said Chane Uhura, peering through the windshield of his car. It was Thanksgiving day and the Uhuras were on their way to the Kirks' house.

"Whatever," grumbled Nyota, who was by now extremely fed up with her father. She crossed her arms darkly over her chest. "You don't have to come," she said, a little louder.

"Neither do you," Chane snapped.

"Okay, none of this is my fault," Nyota snapped right back, leaning forwards so much that her chest snapped against the seat belt. "You had to go and get in your annual fight with gram about nothing. Deal, dad."

"Your support would have really been appreciated back there, by the way," Chane fired back. Nyota fought with her father almost every other day. It didn't mean that their relationship was bad, just that they were both combative.

"With gram? Are you serious? I'm on her side, you idiot. But I'm more closely related to you, so, there. You're lucky to have me."

"Keep telling me that," Chane muttered.

As Chane spoke, the car came to a stop in front of the Kirk residence. Nyota threw herself out of the car, slamming the door as hard as she could.

"Nyota!" Chane half-shouted. "Quit doing that!"

"You quit fighting with gram!" Nyota hissed back at him, whipping around halfway up the sidewalk. Chane, close behind her, came to an abrupt stop. "You're not even fighting about anything, okay? I know she's—all you've got of mom, but just because—"

Jim opened the front door. "Nyota?" he said, sticking his head out.

"Hi!" said Nyota, going alarmingly cheery. "Jim! Good to see you!" She actually came up to him and pumped his hand.

"Um," said Jim, looking at her as if he suspected she needed mental help. "Come in…? Scotty's already here."

"What?" said Nyota sharply.

"Er, I also invited Scotty," said Jim uncomfortably. "Is that… okay?"

Nyota stared at him for a moment. She was thrown off because of the argument she'd been having. Then she caught up.

"Yes! Yes, of course it's okay. Oh my God, Jim, A, I like Monty, and B, I'm not going to ask you to throw a guest out of your house on Thanksgiving. I didn't know he was gonna be here. I'm not heartless."

"Yes, well," said Chane delicately. He rubbed Nyota's shoulder when she scowled at him. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm going to go talk to Winona, okay?"

"Mm," said Nyota suspiciously. "Where's Monty?"

"'n 'ere," came a muffled call from the living room. Jim, grinning, showed her in. Scotty was on the couch with Aurelan, who had a large smile across her face. Scotty had been showing her a little mechanical frog he had built. As Jim and Nyota entered, it gave a steely ribbit and leapt three feet into the air. Jim jumped.

"Scares me every time," he laughed, sitting down next to Aurelan and gesturing for Nyota to sit too. Nyota hugged Scotty quickly.

"What happened to your family, Monty?" Nyota asked.

"They headed off t' Vancouver t' see Auntie Edith an' her massive brood," said Monty. "Ah volunteered t' stay home an' take care o' th' Cairns."

"The Cairns?" said Aurelan curiously.

"My family's eight Cairn Terriers," said Scotty, the puffed-up picture of pride. "Carlyle, Finlay, Jaimee, Todd, Michie, Adair, Tara, and Coodles."

"They're adorable," said Nyota, grinning fondly at Scotty. "Coodles is my favorite."

"Ah, she's th' youngest," said Scotty. "Carlyle's my favorite, if ah had t' pick. Or Adair. Tara, though, is a sweet lass. And Todd ah quite like, although Jaimee's personality…"

"He loves all of them," Nyota whispered across to Aurelan, who laughed.

"They finally managed to kick you out of the kitchen, I see," said Kirk to Scotty.

"'Twas a hard fought battle. But they reminded me that poor Aurelan was out here, all alone, so ah charitably came t' keep her company."

"And glad I am for him," said Aurelan, grinning. "I'm generally so bored. Being pregnant sucks."

Nyota made a face. "I'm sorry. When's the baby due?"

"Late May," said Aurelan, lighting up. "We're so excited! And I can't wait to be allowed to do things again. Sam's been up nonstop, doing all sorts of things around the house—and working constantly. Nobody will hire me." She looked sad. "I'm trained as a radiation laboratory technician, but nobody wants a pregnant one of those."

"'Tis reasonable," said Scotty. "They're concerned for th' child."

"And for their pocketbooks," said Aurelan. "Sam got a good job with Starfleet, though. We're not going off-planet for another few years."

There was an outburst of noise from the kitchen. Sam and Winona were yelling at each other.

"—said you'd put the dressing in!"

"No, I said it was your goddamn job to put the dressing in, dumbass!"

"I was working on the giblet gravy, okay? God, you are so—"

Aurelan coughed. The voices quieted guiltily.

"Sorry," said Jim.

Chane chose that moment to wander hastily out of the kitchen. He sat down next to Nyota, looking shellshocked.

"They are… rather vociferous," he said diplomatically.

"Yeah," said Jim. "That's a word for it."

Dinner was completed and served with a minimum of conflict. Chane actually ended up being the reason for this, which horrified Jim and Nyota: Winona was too busy chatting with him to bother fighting with Sam, who went off in a huff to complain to Aurelan, who was patiently amused. Scotty, like Aurelan, watched the people like they were a brilliant show, cheering them on and talking them down when needed.

They prayed before the meal, Winona leading, and then said who and what they were thankful for. They were halfway through with dinner when the doorbell rang. Jim, the junior member of the host household, was coerced into answering it. He dragged himself, complaining, to the door, and slung it open.

On the front step, bashful and hesitant, was Bones.

"Hey," Bones said.

x

On Wednesday, David McCoy fetched his parents from one airport, while Ian Kelley fetched his parents from another. Bones stayed home to finish making the house presentable. His parents had trashed it the night before with their annual pre-Thanksgiving party, and Bones, as was his patient tradition, cleaned it for them. He didn't mind; David and Ian always felt so bad about it afterwards that Bones could request nearly anything he wanted for Christmas and generally receive it.

David's parents were quite old, a Oklahoman couple in their eighties that always brought their cat with them. Bones had just finished picking M&Ms out of the couch when the door opened and Emma and Adrian, Adrian bearing Oscar (the cat), came in.

"Leonard," cried Emma, enveloping Bones in a gigantic hug. "Happy Thanksgivin'!"

"You too, grandmother," said Bones, hugging her back. "How was the flight?"

"Terrible," said Adrian cheerily, letting Oscar down so that he could embrace Bones as well. "They delayed us for three hours at the spaceport, can you believe?"

"I can't," said Bones, grinning. "Damn shame. Hey, Oscar." Oscar, who was larger than the turkey currently thawing in the sink, purred as he rubbed against Bones's legs. "Has Ian gotten his parents yet, father?"

"He just picked them up," said David, checking his communicator.

The four of them sat around talking until Ian arrived, his parents in tow. Bones didn't get to see much of Ian's parents; they lived off-world, on a colony nearby. They were the exact opposite of Ian, temperament wise; they were all extremely sweet, and strangely refined.

Lesley, Penny, and Rosie looked nothing alike. Penny was transgender m-to-f and had long blonde hair to go with her height and glamorous good looks. Lesley was extremely short and brunette, and the butchest of the three. Rosie was a muscular redhead who dressed like a librarian. Lesley and Penny were from Alabama, and Rosie was from Texas. The sweet, caring threesome had produced four children, three girls and Ian, and of all of them, only Ian was bad-tempered. Nobody quite knew how it happened, but it had, and Ian had passed some of that temper down to Bones.

Bones's grandmothers descended on him and nearly crushed him with their hugs. Bones loved being an only child at times like these. His five grandparents paid almost absurd amounts of attention to him.

The next day, two of Ian's sisters, Lila and Nova, arrived, Lila bringing her husband Rhitan and Nova, who was divorced, bringing her six year-old, Shannon. The third sister, Delores, was with her boyfriend's family in Taiwan. Everybody made dinner together, a chaotic tradition Bones did not enjoy very much, but it was the way Thanksgiving had always been. And so was their tradition of sitting around, after the meal, and talking about what they were thankful for.

Bones had a pure moment, right after they'd cleared away the food and were about to sit back down and give thanks, when everything he had said and done to Kirk came rushing back to him, battering him like hail. He looked around at his comfortable, happy family, and realized that his anger at Kirk was gone, and that it never should have been there. All of them were going to talk about how thankful they were that they had each other, and how short life was, and how much the little things mattered. He stood up without even thinking. Everybody turned to look at him.

He stared at them for a moment. "I'll be right back," he finally blurted, and fled.

He drove. He had no idea what he was going to say to Kirk. What could he possibly say? And would Kirk even forgive him? Bones told himself that forgiveness didn't matter. What mattered was making his own position right again.

x

And so, on the front step, bashful and hesitant, was Bones.

"Hey," Bones said.

Kirk stared at him.

"I—I don't really have a speech," said Bones, shuffling his feet. "It's just… it's Thanksgivin'. And I'm thankful for you. And I'm also really sorry. And that's not enough—sayin' it's not enough, but it's what I got right now. If you need more I can try. But you're right, about everythin', and whatever you need, you should have it, 'cause you've had a tough life, Jim. Whatever you want me to do—I'll do it. And you don't even have to talk to me anymore. I just wanted to come up and apologize and put the ball in your court."

Kirk didn't say anything for a while. Then he said, "You're thankful for me?"

Bones looked up at him, and Kirk thought his eyes were bluer than ever. "Yes," he said feelingly. "As much as I am for breathin'. You're an incredible friend."

"Don't—Bones, I'm no good—"

"Shut up," said Bones. "You're awesome. Deal with it."

Kirk laughed, and stepped down. He put his warm hands on Bones's shoulders. "Thank you," he said.

"Thank you," said Bones. "You can punch me, if you like."

"Nah, I'm too thankful for you."

Bones's eyes were looking suspiciously shimmery. "That's so sweet."

"Oh God, don't cry on me."

"I'd never!" Bones sniffed a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such an asshole."

"You're not! I'm sorry I cheated on you."

Bones looked like he was withholding comment. "It's—no problem."

"No, I shouldn't have," Kirk insisted. "It was terrible of me."

"Yes, but there were underlyin' problems," said Bones. "Later—or now, if you want—we should… talk?"

"Yeah," said Kirk, squeezing Bones's shoulders. "I'd like that. Once the family's gone."

"Mine are clearin' out tomorrow."

"I'll come over." Kirk smiled again. "I forgive you, if you'll forgive me."

"Nothin' to forgive you for," Bones declared. He hesitated, then leaned forward. They hugged tightly. "Thank you," Bones repeated in his ear.

They parted, and Kirk said, "Hey, aren't you the one who says a little suffering is good for the soul?"

Bones was affronted. "I never say that."

"Of course not," said Kirk.

x