We cannot do great things on this Earth, only small things with great love.
~Mother Teresa


Fourteen minutes – that's still a reasonable time to be in the bathroom, Jim thinks.

Probably.

Now, granted, he's pretty sure the gang in his room is going to be engaging in some pretty colorful speculation about what exactly is going on in there; he's glad he doesn't have to hear it.

And there isn't any way in hell Jim's going to get through this morning without some sort of pretty serious embarrassment – that's becoming increasingly clear.

Then –

Oh, shit.

The other door – because of course, you idiot, the room has two fucking doors – slides open, and Jim realizes that he hadn't even begun to think about exactly how embarrassing this morning could get.

Spock – also of course, because who else would it be – is on the other side of the door, and the first thing that Jim notices is that the first officer doesn't seem particularly surprised to open up the bathroom door to see his captain perched on the edge of the sink.

The second thing he notices – and now Jim is the one who's a little surprised – is that Spock is out of uniform, in loose-fitting black pants and a tailored black tunic that might actually have been what he'd slept in.

He's rarely seen Spock in anything but his Science blues – and somewhere in the back of his mind, Jim finds himself thinking that Spock looks absolutely amazing in black.

Shit, shit, shit.

Jim starts to fumble an apology for the inconvenience – to figure out a way to get the hell out of there without raising way too much of a fuss – when Spock renders him utterly speechless with a wordless shake of his head that lets Jim know that he wants him to come with him into his quarters.

That's probably the very last thing he'd expected – but it works. At any rate, it beats hanging out in the bathroom.

~o0o~


~o0o~

Spock has been awake now for well over an hour, but has refrained from beginning his usual morning routine of showering and changing into his uniform – choosing instead to remain quietly in his room, listening intently so as not to miss any unusual sounds that come from Jim's quarters. He is not entirely sure when the others planned to awaken him with their surprise – McCoy had made the rather odd statement that they would "play it by ear" in the morning based on how well Jim was sleeping.

Spock had started hearing movement next door approximately 24 minutes ago – and had heard Jim's door to their bathroom open and then close again about ten minutes thereafter. For the past 14.7 minutes, however, there has been an unusual lack of sound coming from their shared bathroom – Spock has become accustomed to the sounds of Jim's morning routine, and those have been notably absent.

Spock has a moment of realization – Jim, he is certain, is not in the bathroom to attend to any of his physical needs. Basing his hypothesis in what he considers to be his fairly thorough understanding of Jim's thought processes, he determines that it is highly likely that Jim has, instead, retreated to the bathroom - perhaps to avoid an uncomfortable situation in his own quarters.

It had occurred to Spock last night that Jim might well be somewhat overwhelmed by awakening this morning to the surprise of having his quarters transformed in such an extreme fashion as he had slept. For all that it has become clear to everyone that Jim greatly enjoys the Christmas holiday, this unexpected celebration could, at least initially, cause him significant disequilibrium.

Furthermore, he wonders if McCoy and Scott, in their understandable enthusiasm, might not have underestimated Jim's almost preternatural perceptiveness; if they think that Jim will simply enjoy the surprise without questioning the motivation behind it, Spock suspects that they will find themselves to be sorely mistaken.

Now, 15.2 minutes have passed since Jim entered their bathroom, and Spock wonders if Jim had considered how he would get out of the room once he had gone in. Probably not, he decides – it had likely been the only way Jim could think of getting out from under the scrutiny of his well-intentioned friends on such short notice.

If nothing else, Spock can provide Jim with another means of escape, should he so desire. Moving across the room, he opens his own door to the bathroom – hoping that he is correct in his assumption about Jim's motives for being there, and that he will not instead be interrupting Jim in the middle of an awkward moment.

The door swishes open, revealing Jim – still in his sleeping clothes – sitting on the edge of their sink. He looks shocked and almost guilty to have been discovered there, and Spock finds himself almost overcome with an unexpected (and entirely un-Vulcan) rush of warm affection. At this moment, Jim appears much younger than his 26.15 years, and Spock is reminded of a word his mother had often used to describe him when he was a child.

Adorable.

Without further thought, Spock takes a step back from the door, beckoning Jim to come into his quarters. Round-eyed with surprise, Jim wordlessly slips down from the countertop and follows Spock, closing the bathroom door behind them.

~o0o~


~o0o~

The ensuing silence between them isn't exactly awkward, but Jim feels the need to break it, all the same.

"Umm… I guess you're wondering what I was doing in there?"

"If I am correct in my supposition," Spock counters, "you had excused yourself to our bathroom in order to buy yourself some time to absorb what had happened to your quarters as you slept last night."

Jim freezes, a look of absolute astonishment on his face. "That's..." he sputters.

He stops, shakes his head, tries again. "You're exactly right – but, how the hell did you know that?"

Spock pauses, looking somewhat perturbed – though Jim knows even now that it's not an expression that most people would notice on him. Spock is nothing if not subtle.

"How did I know?" Spock's voice is quiet, and his eyes drop to examine the carpet. "As my counterpart has been known to say to you, Jim, I have been and always shall be your friend."

He pauses again. "Regardless of what you might think, Jim, I am your friend. As such, I believe I have developed sufficient understanding of your way of thinking to be able to predict many of your actions with a reasonable degree of accuracy."

He looks up again, and Jim is astonished to see the pain in Spock's eyes – he didn't know what he'd expected when he'd followed Spock in here, but it surely wasn't this.

"However, I think you would be compelled to agree with me, Jim, when I say that I have not behaved of late as a friend should do." He sighs – again, startling the hell out of Jim, who is almost completely unaccustomed to such displays of emotion from Spock, however subdued they might be.

"Spock…" Jim trails off awkwardly, realizing that he has no idea what he'd planned to say to begin with. He just wants to say something – do something – to take that look off of Spock's face.

"Jim." Spock glances away again, appearing every bit as uncomfortable as Jim feels – but the fact that he's still talking at all is just all kinds of surprising. Usually, discomfort makes Spock clam up pretty quickly, and God knows this is uncomfortable.

But then again, Jim is finding that his first officer seems to be full of surprises this morning.

"I owe you, Jim, both an explanation and an apology for my behavior toward you of late. Through no fault of your own – no fault at all – I have created a distance between the two of us, and have, I believe, caused you pain."

Jim has given up altogether on trying to make intelligent conversation, now – every word out of Spock's mouth is stunning him into silence, again and again. He knows he's probably standing there gaping at Spock like an idiot, and he can't help it.

Spock, amazingly, seems undeterred by Jim's lack of response. "The apology I offer to you immediately and unreservedly, Jim – I truly regret my actions, and will do whatever I can in future to right the wrong that I have done to you and to our friendship."

He looks now toward Jim's quarters, almost as though he expects the Command crew to come bursting through the bathroom. "The explanation, however, must wait – I feel certain that it will require significantly more time than we currently have. As you know, the crew has taken great pains to create a surprise for you in honor of the Christmas holiday, and I have reason to believe they will be disappointed if we do not join them soon."

Shit. The past couple minutes with Spock had actually made this whole Christmas clusterfuck fly right out of his head, and that's just nuts.

"Yeah, I know. They're going to think I fell in or something." Jim makes an unsuccessful attempt at a laugh before pausing, running a distracted hand through his hair. "Just… damn. I wish to hell they hadn't done it. Or at least not because they felt sorry for me. I don't need that."

Spock looks surprised now. "You believe that the crew's actions were motivated by feelings of pity for you?"

Jim snorts in response. "You can't seriously expect me to believe otherwise, can you? All of – hell, all of that? Out of nowhere?" He shakes his head, hearing the bitterness in his own voice. "That's not a coincidence, Spock. Don't try to tell me that it is, because that's bullshit and you know it."

"Such was not my intention, Jim." Spock sure doesn't look as though Jim has just damn near bitten his head off – he continues, unfazed.

"Of course it was not a coincidence. But neither was it done out of some misguided notion that you required sympathy; you must know your colleagues well enough to know that they would not behave in such a fashion toward you. We all know you well enough to realize that you do not, and have never, wished for pity – and that you would not willingly accept it were it offered to you."

Spock's right, of course – when isn't he?

They do know him. They're more than his crew; they're his friends, all of them, and they wouldn't patronize him. But try as he might, Jim still can't make sense of what they've done – and what prompted them to do it out of the blue like this.

And dammit, he needs to be able to do that if he's going to face them again.

"You still require further insight as to why our colleagues felt the need to provide you with this celebration." Spock makes it a statement instead of a question, and Jim feels an ache in his chest as he realizes all at once just how much he's missed this over these past few weeks – having Spock simply get him in a way that nobody else does.

It's been… well, shit. It's been lonely. And honestly, Jim doesn't really get why he's suddenly got Spock back – but for now, he'll take Spock's word for it that he'll explain later. In the meantime, Jim is willing to just enjoy how good it feels to have his friend back again – and, if he cares to admit it to himself, how amazing it is to have those beautiful, expressive dark eyes focused so intently upon him.

Jim nods. "Yeah, Spock – I do. Maybe that's immature, or ungracious, or something – but I really do."

"It is none of those things, Jim. I find it rather to be completely understandable." Spock walks toward two somewhat austere-looking chairs in one corner, seating himself gracefully in one and indicating that Jim should be seated in the other. "As it happens, I am in a position to provide you with at least most of the information you require, should you wish an explanation."

Wordlessly, Jim sits, another nod his only response. Spock correctly interprets this gesture as an invitation to begin.

"What do you remember about your activities two nights previously, when you and Mr. Scott had a discussion in Engineering?"

This can't be going anywhere good, and Jim knows it. "Next to nothing, unfortunately. We put away an obscene amount of scotch, and I don't remember much between the time Scotty and I opened that first bottle and the next morning when I woke up… somewhere else."

Spock inclines his head in acknowledgment. "It is, then, as I suspected. However, your actions – and your conversation – of that evening provided much of the impetus for the events of last night."

Jim swallows hard, wishing he could just be anywhere else right now – but that's not in the cards for a lot of reasons. He sits back in his chair, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out again. "All right, Spock. Sounds like you've got the information, so you'd better go ahead and tell me about it."

~o0o~


~o0o~

Although Spock fully understands Jim's need to know more about the events leading up to the Christmas surprise his friends have prepared for him, he wishes all the same that he was not the one who had to provide the explanation; there is no way he can state the case that will not, at least at first, cause Jim a great deal of discomfort.

However, he reflects that he is probably the best suited of all of them to communicate this to Jim, as he will be able to do so without many of the emotional undertones that any of the others would have been unable to avoid. He can state the facts of what happened clearly, concisely, and without elaboration – which is, he believes, what Jim requires at this time.

And as uncomfortable as the situation is – however difficult this explanation will prove to be – Spock has to admit to himself that it is undeniably pleasant to speak to Jim as a friend again, after the long weeks of cold, artificially professional communication to which he had limited their interactions.

It is gratifying to note that Jim seems to be equally pleased to have resumed something like their normal conversational style; Spock sees Jim observing him with exceptional thoroughness, as if he has not seen Spock in quite some time, and is relearning the details of his appearance. Of course, they have continued to see one another – albeit briefly – several times a week, so Jim would not really have forgotten what Spock looked like.

However, Spock understands; he finds himself looking at Jim in much the same fashion. It seems almost ridiculous in retrospect that he had ever believed that distancing himself from Jim would somehow lessen the deep regard – the profound love – that Spock has come to feel for him.

He should have known better.

Sitting here, talking to Jim again just as if nothing had ever been wrong between them – acting as his confidant and advisor, just as he always had – it is, quite simply, right. It is where Spock needs to be.

But Jim is waiting for an explanation.

"In order for you to understand the situation fully, I need to begin by recounting the events of yesterday morning, and what went on in Meeting Room C in Engineering…"

Once he begins, Spock knows that he cannot stop until he has told Jim everything about their evening with Mr. Scott – but it is proving very difficult to do so. He is careful not to go into great detail – Jim does not need to know exactly what he said, or exactly how others reacted; it does not matter. Even so, each new revelation seems to bring Jim fresh pain – and to be the cause of this, even indirectly, is painful to Spock as well.

It is not a long story, and it is a matter of only a few minutes before Spock has finished. Jim sits silently for a few seconds; Spock notes that his complexion has become paler than usual, and that he seems to be fighting to control a rush of emotion.

"I see," Jim says quietly. "Sounds like I've got myself to blame for this one. Granted, I guess I figured Scotty was a little more trustworthy than that – but after all, this wasn't ship's business, so I can hardly fault him."

He pauses for a long moment, then lets his breath out with an explosive exhalation, dropping his head into one hand.

"And this was supposed to convince me that they weren't feeling sorry for me?" Jim is addressing his flannel-clad knee. "Gotta tell you, Spock – this whole mess looks like it's got guilt written all over it, wouldn't you say?"

"I can see why you would come away with that impression, Jim – and I will not argue that, at least originally, there was a strong sense among us that you deserved far better treatment from all of us than you had recently been receiving."

Jim is becoming increasingly agitated. "Originally, Spock? Really? Come on – give me a little credit, will you? I'm a lot of things, but I'm not stupid."

In a burst of exasperated energy, he rises from his chair – and Spock is convinced that even though he is wearing only his pajamas, Jim is entirely willing to leave his quarters and go elsewhere – anywhere – in the ship in order to avoid this situation. Without thinking, he moves to place himself in Jim's path, blocking his exit.

"Jim, wait." Before he realizes what he is doing, Spock has his hands on Jim's shoulders; he has no intention of forcing him to stop, wishing simply to slow Jim's progress, to encourage him to reconsider leaving the room.

Jim stops, seemingly shocked by Spock's actions. His eyes, fixed on Spock's face, have gone suddenly dark now, his pupils dilating and turning the vivid blue of his irises to midnight. He is frozen in place, simply staring at Spock – and Spock realizes dimly that this closeness, this new contact, is very nearly more than either of them can easily handle.

And it is unethical, it is cheating, and he knows it – but Spock cannot resist the temptation he feels to allow his hands to slide down from those muscular shoulders, to rest briefly against the warm skin of Jim's upper arms… just to feel Jim under his hands. It is an enormous violation of Jim's personal space, of his privacy, and yes, yes, Spock knows that, too – but the urge to touch Jim, now, is a compulsion that he cannot bring himself to deny.

But of course his hands do not rest briefly; once they have felt the sensation of surprisingly smooth skin over taut muscle, they seem to develop their own volition – and they do not wish to move away. This was not what Spock had planned for this discussion – not at all – and he begins to feel a faint stirring of what might be panic at the emotions that are perilously close to expression in this moment.

Yes, of course Jim needs to know the truth of my feelings toward him. And of course I will tell him. But not now, not here. Not like this.

If there is a niggling voice in his head asking him, "If not now, when? If not here, where? If not like this, how?" he is willing to ignore it. Or at least to try. But it is almost audible, this voice – Spock cannot determine whether it sounds more like Nyota or his mother, but it is lovingly insinuating that he is a coward.

In this particular instance, he is – and does not deny that. But for now, he cannot bring himself to speak.

While all these thoughts fly through Spock's head – it had been the Terran author Jane Austen who had once referred to "the wonderful velocity of thought," which he has always found to be a most fitting description – he simultaneously observes that Jim does not seem to consider Spock's conduct to be offensive.

Jim has not moved from his spot, nor has he made a motion to shake Spock's hands from his arms. His eyes, still mesmerizingly dark, have grown wider as he looks carefully into Spock's own – and Spock notes absently that Jim's respiration has grown quicker and shallower in the past 8.7 seconds.

As has his own, he notes as well – but that is, of course, immaterial.

Spock has made every attempt not to pay attention to the emotions he feels emanating from Jim; he is well aware that he should not take advantage of his abilities as a touch telepath to ascertain what Jim is feeling at this moment. However, those emotions are too strong for Spock to ignore – and, he knows, he really does not wish to do so.

Jim is surprised, confused – his thoughts and feelings are in such turmoil currently that it makes Spock physically dizzy to be so close to them. But also, and above all those things, Jim is feeling… comforted, it seems, by Spock's touch. There is an enormous sense of Jim's relief and gratitude that he has his friend with him again, and Spock feels a new surge of his own guilt that he has caused Jim this pain to begin with.

Along with all of these roiling emotions is an overwhelming affection – so intense that Spock is not entirely sure whether it is coming from Jim or from himself – and then, suddenly, the stirrings of something much warmer and more urgent. Desire – Jim's as well as Spock's – powerful, simmering just below the surface.

Out of self-preservation as much as anything else at this point, Spock forces himself to drop his hands from Jim's arms and to take a small step backward – noting the flash of disappointment in Jim's eyes as he does so, and crushing the rising elation that Jim's disappointment sparks in his own mind.

"Please, Jim," Spock urges, somewhat surprised at the steadiness of his own voice. "Please be seated again; there is more to my story than I have had the chance to recount, and you need to hear it all before you can fully understand the events of last night and this morning."

Jim draws a shaky breath and nods – but his eyes never leave Spock's. There is an expression now on Jim's face that Spock recognizes, if he thinks about it. This – this is the look Jim gets when he is piecing together a puzzle, or solving a mystery; his expression is intent, his head tilted approximately five degrees to the right, eyebrows drawn just slightly together.

Spock is increasingly certain that the puzzle Jim is piecing together now has nothing to do with his crew and their actions or motivations; he can tell by the look Jim is giving him that the mystery he is solving is, almost without a doubt, Spock himself.

This should not come as a surprise to Spock, he knows – and on some level, it does not. Because of course Jim understands Spock every bit as well as Spock understands Jim – and in this particular situation, he has the great advantage of being familiar and comfortable with the human emotions that Spock has only just begun to acknowledge, much less to welcome.

There will, however, be time to dissect all the facets of this unique situation later – when there is not a crowd of people awaiting Jim in his quarters – and so, Spock reluctantly puts these thoughts from his mind.

Jim is starting to smile at him, just a little, and Spock realizes with a tiny start of surprise that he has not yet begun to speak, but instead has been watching Jim in silence for the past 17 seconds.

He shakes himself mentally – because he really does need to keep his attention on the matter at hand – and briefly considers what he wants to say to Jim before he begins.

"You remain convinced that your Command crew has created this surprise for Christmas out of pity for you." Jim's smile fades then, and he nods tersely.

"However, you are unaware of the rest of the circumstances surrounding what has been done to put this celebration together. Since so much of it is of an emotional and sentimental nature, it is ironic that it is I who will be explaining it to you – but I will do my best to convey the details appropriately."

Jim has relaxed for the first time since entering Spock's quarters, leaning slightly back in the chair and stretching his legs out in front of him to cross his bare ankles. Spock makes a conscious effort not to fixate on how remarkably attractive Jim appears in such a position – and he is finally forced to look away and direct his commentary to the table between them, rather than to Jim himself.

"Something that you had expressed in your comments to Mr. Scott seemed to strike a chord with many of us – that we are indeed one another's family here on board the Enterprise. For some of us," he pauses, swallowing around an unexpected tightening in his throat, "our family here on the ship is very nearly the only family we have."

Jim has leaned forward now, and is watching Spock with concern in those intensely blue eyes. His physical presence is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

"At any rate, your emphasis on the idea of family caused many of us to reflect on the truth of your statements – and also to reflect on how far we have fallen short of our obligations to one another as family and friends. We have allowed personal problems – some more significant than others – to drive us apart, or, more accurately, to cause us to retreat within ourselves rather than to look to our family of friends for solutions or consolation."

Spock finally looks up to gauge Jim's response to his words; he is silent, waiting.

"However," he continues, "had we not found a common cause, as it were, around which to rally, this reflection would probably have gone nowhere; we might have chastised ourselves briefly for our self-absorption, but then we would have, in all likelihood, gone about our business as usual. It is simply too difficult to initiate all the discussions, the apologies, the gestures of reconciliation necessary to remedy the situations in which we found ourselves – and even if we knew we should do so, even if we felt guilty for not doing so, we would have maintained our current attitudes and courses of action instead. You know this to be true, Jim."

Jim draws a deep breath, lets it out in a sigh. "Maybe. But…"

Spock raises a hand briefly to silence Jim. "But. But we did have a common cause, Jim. We were able to direct all of those feelings of family, friendship… of love for one another, and work together to do something for you. I do not mean to say that we used you as an excuse, Jim – such is not the case. But in the course of our collaboration with one another, many positive developments have resulted. For example, Lieutenant Uhura has learned that she has been angry with you without reason, as she had mistakenly believed that you and I were no longer speaking due to something you might have done to hurt me."

Jim's eyebrows creep toward his hairline at that last statement, and Spock finds himself in the rare position of having to stifle a smile.

"Moreover, Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov seem to have reached some sort of understanding; I do not know of precisely what nature, but they both seem significantly happier as a result. Doctor McCoy has been out of his quarters, interacting with others, and has been observed smiling and laughing over the past 24 hours – and you know better than anyone how unlikely that is. This is the first time in 19 days that Mr. Scott has been out of the Engineering department for longer than 20 minutes at a time."

Watching Jim carefully as he speaks, Spock sees the moment when understanding truly dawns on Jim. He opens his mouth as if to formulate a response, but closes it again, simply shaking his head.

"So, Jim, now you see. It is true; we are a family. But we had forgotten – or perhaps we had not really known to begin with. However, it is you who made us a tightly-knit circle of colleagues, of friends – of family, Jim. We are family because of you – because of the understanding and respect you have always had for each of us individually, and for the obvious love you have for all of us. You have always been the factor that has made us a cohesive group – but we failed to recognize that, to appreciate you for all you do and all you are, until it was brought to our attention. It is you, Jim, who made us a family to begin with. We became a family again when we worked together to make you happy."

Spock stands now, doing something he never dreamed he would be bold enough to do – he reaches out his hand to Jim, who grasps it firmly in his own before rising from his own chair.

"If your family has done all of this in order to make you happy, Jim, you know what your responsibility is as Captain, now."

"Yeah, Spock." Jim is smiling, but voice sounds uncharacteristically hoarse and his eyes are suspiciously shiny. "I need to go in there and be happy."

~o0o~