Yes, this chapter is short. No, the story isn't finished. Yes, I'm still working on it - but I liked where this chapter ended.

No, I haven't forgotten "Sestina" - but I needed some fluff to cheer me up. So... okay? :-)


"Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love."
~ Hamilton Wright Mabie


~o0o~

Beta Shift is well underway before Bones is finally able to track Jim down – for once, he's in his quarters, and so McCoy is going to high-tail it up there and catch him before he pulls another vanishing act. It's Christmas Eve, and they need to know where Jim is if they're going to do what they've planned.

It's just as well Jim wasn't on duty today, he thinks – and even better that they're just sailing through a vast amount of deep space just now between missions instead of doing anything particularly important. Because a great deal of the conversation on the bridge today had had very little to do with matters of ship's business – or at least not the kind of ship's business that Starfleet cares about.

This is our ship's business, Bones thinks, feeling a sudden flare of protectiveness toward his best friend. Jim is our business. And if the little shit wants a family Christmas, then he's damn well going to get one.

There's no answer when he hits Jim's buzzer the first time – not the second time, either – so he uses his prerogative as best friend and CMO to use his medical override code. Turns out that the twinge of worry he's been feeling in spite of himself is unwarranted; from the sounds of things, Jim's just in the shower.

McCoy puts down the two mugs he's been somewhat precariously holding in one hand – he'd felt like all kinds of an idiot carrying them through the corridors, but they're necessary for the success of what Sulu has christened "Operation Noël." Assuming his spot in what even Jim calls "his" chair, Bones picks up his own mug and waits.

He doesn't have to wait long, it's barely two minutes before the water is turned off, and barely another minute before the door opens and Jim appears, clad only in the white Starfleet-issue towel wrapped around his waist.

"Merry almost Christmas, infant."

Jim damn near jumps out of his skin, clutching his chest with one hand and the towel with the other.

"Holy fuck, Bones! What's the matter with you?"

"Not a thing. Just that it's Christmas Eve – and we've got a tradition to attend to. And since I haven't been able to get hold of you in over a day now, I figured I'd better take matters into my own hands."

"Tradition?" Jim looks confused for a moment, but then smiles just a little when he sees what Bones has brought with him. "The cocoa is a tradition?"

His friend smiles back. "Well, considering we always sat down together and had cocoa the night before Christmas when we were living together at the Academy, it kinda felt like a tradition to me."

He shrugs. "And I like cocoa. So sue me."

Jim's expression softens a little bit. "Thanks, Bones. And you're right – it does feel kind of like a tradition, doesn't it?"

Turning away briefly, he rummages through drawers to find a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt before unceremoniously dropping the towel and quickly getting into his clothes. He's not too concerned about modesty; after all, it's not as though Bones hasn't seen all of it – many, many times.

Picking up his own mug of cocoa from the end table near Bones' chair, Jim sits down on the edge of his bed and takes an appreciative sip.

"Whoa – whipped cream and everything? You went all out, didn't you?"

"I figured, what the hell. It's complete crap and has almost no nutritional value – but Christmas only comes once a year. I'd have done marshmallows, but they weren't programmed into the replicator."

Jim laughs softly. "Imagine that – I guess I'll have to put in a work order for that. Can't have a functioning starship without marshmallows."

There's a brief, comfortable silence before McCoy gestures around the room. "This is sure a change from what our room used to look like on Christmas Eve. You been too busy to make this place into every Christmas elf's wet dream?"

Jim's smile fades a little. "Yeah, I've been pretty busy."

That's bullshit, and they both know it, but McCoy's going to let it go for now.

He raises his cup of cocoa as if for a toast. "Here's to us, Jimmy Boy. Long way from where we were last Christmas, isn't it?"

They'd already been named Captain and CMO of the Enterprise that Christmas – but since the ship was still in dry dock undergoing repairs after the run-in with the Narada and the red matter singularity that had followed it, they'd been on Earth for the holiday. Granted, the officers' quarters at Starfleet were certainly a cut above the dorm they'd most recently inhabited, but weren't anything to write home about, all the same.

Just meant there was more space in the corner for the mangy-looking tree that Jim had dragged back to the room, Bones reflects.

Jim nods. "For a fact, my friend." He looks searchingly at McCoy. "So… how about you? Are you going to get to talk to Jo-Jo tomorrow?" Bones can hear the concern in his voice, and it kind of goes right through him; seems that Jim's been doing a lot better job of worrying about him than he's done of worrying about Jim.

"Yeah, I fixed it with Joss so that I'll be able to have a video call with her late afternoon Georgia time. That oughta work out pretty well, since by then the shine will have worn off of all those new presents, and she might even be willing to stop playing with them and sit still long enough to talk to her Daddy."

Jim's finished his cocoa now, and if he notices that Bones is watching him a little more carefully than usual, he doesn't let on.

"You on duty tomorrow, Captain? Or can you hang out and spend part of Christmas with the crabbiest old bastard on the ship?"

"Yeah, I'm on – but not 'til Beta Shift, so we could get together for breakfast if you want, then hang around long enough for me to get to talk to Joanna too – if you want me to." Jim sounds more uncertain than his friend would like.

"Of course I want you to, you idiot. I asked, didn't I?" Bones smiles with exasperated fondness. "After all, besides Jo, you're the only real family I've got these days – and that's who you spend Christmas with, isn't it?"

Jim shrugs a little uncomfortably – but his answering smile is sincere enough. "Guess you're right. And I won't lie – it'll be good to spend the day with you. Kinda like old times."

Stretching, he yawns enormously; all at once, it's as though he's fighting to keep his eyes open.

"You been sleeping all right, Jim?" Bones has what Jim calls his "doctor voice," now.

"Yeah, well enough." Jim's being evasive – and yawning again.

"Liar. I waited in here for you all last night and you never came back to go to bed."

Jim tries for a saucy smirk; he fails pretty spectacularly, but manages a sleepy smile and forges ahead anyway. "So how do you know I wasn't keeping somebody else's bed warm for them last night? Everybody wants me, and you know it – after all, I did get voted 'Hottest Officer in Starfleet' this year."

Bones snorts. "Yeah, by that bunch of idiot fangirls – who obviously don't know a real man when they see one."

Jim's quiet laugh makes him smile for just a moment. "But I know you weren't warming anybody else's bed, Jim, because for better or for worse, that's just not how you fly, and we both know it. And because – well, I've got my own theories about why that is, but that's another story for another day."

McCoy stops then, hoisting himself out of the chair to sit next to Jim on the edge of his bed. Jim's swaying a little now, and looks almost ready to nod off.

"C'mon, you. Time for good little starship captains to go to sleep."

Jim blinks owlishly at him for a long moment – then freezes suddenly as a look of suspicion comes into those wide blue eyes.

"You son of a bitch," he slurs. "You put somethin' in the cocoa, didn't you?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," his friend responds nonchalantly. "Good news is, you won't remember a bit of this in the morning anyway – so it doesn't much matter."

He reaches up to smooth the frown line between Jim's eyebrows with a surprisingly gentle brush of his thumb. "You know you need to go to sleep, Jim – and with you feeling the way you have been, you weren't gonna get any rest tonight. So now you will."

Jim's still fighting it, hard – and Bones puts on his most soothing voice as he pulls Jim to lean against him with one arm around his shoulders. "It's okay, Jim. Nothin' bad's gonna happen, I promise. You just go ahead and let go, all right? I'm here; I've got you."

He can feel Jim starting to relax into the sound of his words – this has always worked for him before, and it's working now.

"You can go ahead and go to sleep – you know how bad you want to. I'll stay right here, and I'll be here when you wake up. So you go on and close your eyes and relax, all right?"

"You promise?" Jim's eyes are drifting shut, his voice is barely a whisper.

"I promise," McCoy reassures him quietly. He's guiding Jim to swing his legs up onto the bed as he speaks, one arm supporting him from the back to keep him steady. "You sleep now, Jim."

He doesn't have to tell him again; Jim is out like a light already, his head dropping heavily back over Bones' supporting arm. McCoy lowers him the rest of the way down onto his pillow, pulling up the covers and smoothing them briefly before standing up and smiling down at his unconscious best friend.

"After all – Santa doesn't come when you're awake, Jimmy," he whispers. You should know that."

~o0o~


~0~

There's quite the group waiting for the doctor to come into Spock's quarters on the other side of the bathroom that he shares with Jim – Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, Scotty – but not, surprisingly, Spock himself. McCoy notices that rather conspicuous absence, but chooses not to comment on it.

"All right, people. He's out for the count for maybe an hour and a half, now – two hours at the outside. We need to get a move on before the drugs start to wear off."

"Seriously, Doctor?" Chekov is peering curiously over McCoy's shoulder into Jim's quarters. "Nothing we do will wake the Keptin up?" He sounds intrigued.

"For the next couple hours? Not a damn thing. However," he turns to the young navigator with a scowl, "that does not mean you get to put makeup on him while he's sleeping, or whatever the hell it is that you teenagers do at slumber parties these days."

Chekov huffs a little and makes a show of looking affronted as they quietly make their way into the captain's quarters – but for all that, Uhura notices that he's not denying anything, either. She remembers those slumber party days well enough, and suppresses a smile at the thought of Kirk waking up wearing some truly heinous aqua eye shadow.

"I was always a fan of the 'hand in the bowl of warm water' trick myself," Sulu says to Chekov in a stage whisper – and Uhura giggles in spite of herself as McCoy smacks the pilot on the head with what looks to be a handful of Christmas stockings.

She glances around the room at the other members of the Command crew as they busy themselves decorating every possible surface in the captain's quarters. Somehow, Scotty has managed to tangle himself pretty spectacularly in a string of tiny flashing white lights, and now McCoy is helping Sulu wrangle a rather large potted plant through the door. It's not quite a Christmas tree – because they don't actually keep those in the Botany lab, unfortunately – but it's close enough in size and appearance that it'll do in a pinch.

Uhura has a little surprise of her own to add to the festive atmosphere as well, and hopes the others don't notice as she quietly fastens a small sprig of greenery to the top of a doorway. It was something she'd been saving for a Christmas celebration of her own – though as things have turned out, she's pretty sure she won't be needing it after all.

What the hell, she thinks. It might come in handy for somebody else, at least...

Gradually, the room has gotten incredibly noisy; Uhura wonders if the others have somehow managed to forget that Jim really is right here, thanks so much. And sedatives or not, she can't believe Kirk could possibly be unaware of the barely-controlled chaos that is going on around him – but amazingly, he remains completely oblivious.

Shaking her head at herself, she muses that of all the things she's ever thought about the captain, he looks awfully sweet when he's sleeping has never before been on the list.

Chekov's voice calls her back into the moment. "Lt. Uhura, could you help me with this? It seems it is being a two-person job." He is over in the corner, working on installing what looks to be… is that a holographic fireplace?

A swell of happiness – unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome – takes Uhura completely by surprise, and freezes her in her tracks for just a second. Honestly, she'd been pretty much certain that she'd be spending this holiday by herself, nursing her broken heart – and maybe making a significant dent in the case of red wine her sister had sent her as a gift from a trip she'd taken to the south of France.

Even as recently as this morning, she certainly would have never imagined that she'd be able to genuinely smile this Christmas – but she's doing just that right now, surrounded by what she suddenly realizes is a rather unlikely family putting together a truly bizarre – but altogether lovely – celebration.

"Absolutely, Ensign." She walks the few steps over to where Chekov is sitting cross-legged on the floor, glancing once more at the captain who, without realizing it, is turning this into a real Christmas for all of them.

"And… Pavel?" Kneeling next to Chekov, she graces him with a small, shy smile which surprises and charms him at the same time. "Please – call me Nyota."

~o0o~


~o0o~

The room is done, amazingly, in just over an hour – and after many exclamations of wonder and more than a few self-congratulatory high fives, the little group disperses for the night. McCoy stays behind after the others have gone – he told Jim he'd stay with him until he woke up, and he'd meant it.

They've got Jim's quarters fixed up so that Bones' favorite recliner is back in the corner, cast completely into shadow by the somewhat erratically blinking lights on the "tree" that it's been pushed behind. The light isn't much, but it's enough that McCoy is glad to have something to cover his eyes – even if it is, God help him, the bottom of a Santa hat that Scotty had shoved onto his head at some point during the proceedings. Where the hell Jim's yeoman had scared the hat up from is beyond him, and the doctor decides he probably doesn't want to know.

After all the commotion that has been going on for the past hour or so, the room seems almost unnaturally quiet, with only the ever-present muted hum of the Enterprise's engines and the sound of Jim's slow, steady breathing breaking the silence. The doctor takes a deep breath himself, relaxing farther into the well-worn leather of Jim's recliner.

McCoy is enjoying the stillness; he knows he really ought to try to get to sleep himself, but this moment is one he finds he wants to savor. This whole idea of doing Christmas for Jim was absolutely insane, and pulling it all together at the last minute has been just a huge pain in the ass – but the look on Jim's face in the morning when he sees all of this is going to make it all worthwhile, he just knows it.

He's more than a little surprised when it occurs to him that he hasn't felt like this since he was back in Georgia, helping Jo-Jo leave cookies and carrots for Santa and his reindeer – and though he knows he should probably feel like an idiot for being such a sap right now, the normally grouchy doctor can't bring himself to do anything but smile.

Just then, the sound of the door opening gets his attention – but McCoy remains absolutely still and completely silent, waiting to see who's there and what they want. Of course, he's pretty sure he already knows the answers to both those questions. After all, it's not the door from the main corridor that opens – it's the one from Spock's side of the quarters.

And sure enough, the silhouette that Bones can make out in the doorway could belong to no one but the hobgoblin; even if he didn't have that trademark stick-up-the-ass posture, the shadowy figure has Spock's distinctive pointed ears.

It's pretty clear to Bones that Spock has no idea that there's anyone in the room except for himself and Jim – and the doctor intends to keep it that way if at all possible, remaining motionless in his chair off in the darkened corner of the room. He waits to see what Spock will do, why he's here – but the dark shape in the door is equally still, soundlessly watching the gentle rise and fall of the blankets over Jim's chest in the flickering half-light of the room.

Minutes pass, then an hour – and yet Spock hasn't moved from his spot in the doorway. He's still there, watching Jim like a silent sentinel, when McCoy finally gives up and allows himself to fall asleep as well.

There'll be time enough to wonder about all of this in the morning.

~o0o~


~o0o~

When McCoy's internal alarm clock wakes him at 06:00, his first thought is of Jim – and to his relief, he's still sleeping, though now he's in his normal position, rolled over onto his side and facing the wall. He'd been pretty sure that Jim was tired enough last night that he'd stay asleep on his own even after the meds had worn off – and when it comes to his closest friend and most frequent patient, the doctor is almost always correct about such things.

Then another thought comes rushing back to him all at once, and his eyes snap to the doorway – but now the door has closed, and Spock is gone. Hard to say how long he'd remained there last night – but McCoy finds himself in the unusual position of wondering just exactly what had been going on in Spock's head all the while he'd stood there like a statue, just watching Jim sleep.

As a general rule, the less he knows about the inner workings of that Vulcan computer of a brain, the better he likes it – God knows it's taken him long enough to get used to the heart where a human's liver would be, not to mention the damn dual-chamber stomach.

But now that he's reasonably sure that at least of some those thoughts are concerning Jim – well, that's another story. Because Leonard McCoy will be double damned if he'll let that green-blooded machine hurt the best friend he's ever had.

Though, oddly enough, he finds himself thinking that this might actually – in some truly epically fucked-up way – turn out to be all right.

He's remembering the look on Spock's face back in Engineering yesterday morning, when they'd all heard how hurt Jim had been by what he'd perceived to be Spock's desertion. That hadn't been the face of somebody who wanted to hurt Jim – and somebody who didn't care about Jim Kirk wouldn't have spent hours standing vigil over him in the middle of the night, either.

That was… hell, that was just plain nuts.

But damned if it wasn't kind of sweet, at that.

Leonard smacks himself in the head – hard – to make that thought go away.

Jim… and the hobgoblin? Good Lord.

McCoy shakes his head. Maybe stranger things have happened – but not in my lifetime.

Directing his wayward thoughts to more practical matters, he reaches down to his communicator and sends a text to the Command crew.

ALMOST SHOWTIME, KIDS. GET ON BACK HERE.

~o0o~


More soon. Promise.

And BTW - I am completely floored by the number of you who have alerted & favorited this piece. (I mean, seriously - what is up with THAT?)

Thanks so much for reading - I'm so glad you're enjoying it!