Okay. So I'll tell you right now this turns out NOT to be the last chapter. There's at least one more, and maybe an epilogue. (Hides head, looks embarrassed.)
However – at least this one's not really short, right?
And Simapra, honey – you'll find the Jim & Nyota scene you'd asked for in this chapter. Hope you like it!


When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things - not the great occasions - give off the greatest glow of happiness.
Bob Hope


~o0o~

"Half an hour, Doc. What can he be doing in there for half an hour?" Sulu shakes his head, a dubious expression on his face.

"He is being too quiet to be doing very much, da? Most things in the bathroom have to make some sort of sound, don't they?" Chekov has evidently been doing a mental inventory of things Jim might be doing in the bathroom; nobody seems to want to carry on that line of conversation, so a brief silence ensues.

Then McCoy shakes his head in self-disgust, blowing out a frustrated breath that ruffles a stray lock of hair briefly off his forehead. "Freaking out, that's what he's doing."

The hair has fallen down into his eyes; he pushes it back again with a quick, irritated gesture. "And how the hell I didn't see that one coming is beyond me."

"In fairness to you, Leonard, you did, and you know it." Scotty walks over, placing his hand reassuringly on McCoy's shoulder. "Said it yourself when we were plannin' all this nonsense, more than once – said you hoped Jim would take it in the right spirit and not get upset."

Scott shoves both hands into the pockets of his well-worn plaid flannel pants, staring earnestly at the bathroom door as though it's going to tell him what's going on. "So… God knows our hearts were in the right place – but I don't know. Do you think we did the wrong thing?"

They're all so busy watching the bathroom door that the sound of the main door swishing open startles the hell out of all four men.

And startled doesn't begin to cover how they're feeling when they see that it's Jim himself coming back into his quarters, with Spock at his right shoulder like a particularly attentive shadow.

If Jim's upset, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it, McCoy thinks. And seriously – he's not usually all that good at it.

He's not sure what's happened in the past thirty-some minutes, but either Jim's figured it out on his own, or somehow Spock's told him what he needs to hear. One way or the other, Jim's all right – and that realization has McCoy letting out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding.

"The wrong thing?" They all hear the smile in Jim's voice as he enters with the same self-confident Starfleet Captain stride he uses on the bridge – which, Sulu reflects, is a hell of a trick for a barefoot guy in pajamas. "Only way you could have done the wrong thing is if you aren't prepared to get some presents under that God-awful excuse for a tree."

Jim looks to the floor under the overburdened ficus plant, and stops short in spite of himself when he realizes that there is already a significant pile of packages waiting there.

"You…" he pauses, before trying again. "You all…"

"Just because we've been actin' like a bunch of self-involved pricks doesn't mean we hadn't gotten you Christmas presents, dumbass." McCoy raises an eyebrow wryly. "When it comes down to it, we're all actually pretty nice guys."

"And a pretty nice girl – when she's not busy being a heinous bitch." Uhura's voice can be heard now through the still-open doorway, as she enters behind Spock with her hands full of oddly-shaped bundles. Everyone freezes for just a moment, watching her come into the room; though none of them would admit it, everybody is waiting to see what's going to happen now between Jim and Nyota.

"Two of these" – she indicates the packages with a tilt of her head – "are for you, Captain. The other two are for everybody to share; you'll see in a minute."

As she speaks, she gives Jim a small, tentative smile that looks like no expression he's ever seen on her face before; that look goes straight to his heart, and although she hasn't yet spoken a word of apology, he finds he's forgiven her already.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he replies quietly. "Very considerate of you."

Uhura has walked over to deposit the packages under the tree and on an end table before rejoining the rest of the group.

Jim realizes now that everyone in the room is now standing and gawking at the unheard-of spectacle of the two of them speaking civilly to one another – and it occurs to him that this really isn't any way to start off a Christmas morning.

Jim makes a reckless decision. Fuck it – might as well give it a shot.

"If you'd all excuse us for a moment, gentlemen – Lieutenant, would you mind joining me in the corridor for just a couple of moments? I'd like a word with you, please."

Her eyes go even bigger than usual, but she nods her compliance and follows him into the hallway, waiting as the door closes behind them both.

She immediately starts to fill the silence with a nervous voice. "Captain, I need to tell you that -"

"Lieutenant." Jim's voice is kind and calm, but with an underlying note of command that she knows better than to disobey. "You don't need to tell me anything; Spock explained a little about a misconception you might have had that caused you to be angry with me."

He stops for a moment, just to let that sink in. "And while I'd rather you'd come to me in future with those kinds of concerns instead of deciding that you need to be the judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one to punish my perceived wrongdoings, I do get it."

He pauses again briefly, taking in her surprised expression, and she notices that his next remark has an oddly tentative sound to it – almost as though there's a question somewhere behind the comment.

"I understand your desire to stand up for Spock in situations such as… well, whatever you thought it was. I… suppose Spock knows that he's very lucky to have a girlfriend like you in his corner."

Now it's Uhura's turn to look a little shocked. "He told you about my having misunderstood the situation between the two of you – but he didn't tell you about the two of us?"

Jim shakes his head wordlessly, and she notes that he is looking unusually anxious as he waits for her to begin.

"We broke up over two months ago, Captain. Spock ended the relationship. We remain on good terms – we're working to be friends, now – but there is no longer anything romantic between us."

She hopes the sadness she feels doesn't show on her face or in her voice – but the look Kirk gives her lets her know otherwise.

She gives him the brightest smile she can conjure up – and it probably looks forced, but so be it. "I am most certainly not looking for your pity, Captain." Her tone is respectful but adamant. "I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't give it to me."

"Understood, Lieutenant." Jim looks at her closely – as though he hasn't really seen her before. "I completely understand the concept of not wanting to be pitied."

Maybe he has more in common with his Communications Officer than he'd have originally guessed.

He gives her a brief, friendly pat on the shoulder. "Won't say that I'm not surprised, though – I had Spock pegged as some sort of genius, and any humanoid in the Alpha Quadrant would tell him he was an idiot to break up with you."

Her smile now is smaller – but genuine, and more than a little grateful. "You're very kind, Captain. Especially considering I've been behaving absolutely unforgivably toward you."

Her next words come out in a rush, as if she is trying to prevent Kirk from interrupting her. "No, no – I know you said I don't have to tell you anything – but seriously, I do. I'm not going to feel right until I've offered you my most sincere apology. I really am so, so sorry; I was thoughtless and unkind, and terribly unprofessional. You deserve better than that from your crew, and I hope you'll forgive me."

Jim rests his hand lightly on her shoulder in reassurance. "You were forgiven before you even started talking, Lieutenant. Like I said – I get it. I probably understand better than you think I do."

"Captain, it's Christmas and none of us are on duty," she says, gesturing to her casual attire – and she can make a plain pair of leggings and a fluffy red sweater look hotter than they have any right to look, Jim thinks appreciatively –"please… call me Nyota, won't you?"

Jim clutches his chest, exaggeratedly faking a coronary. "The world as we know it has ended; I get to use her first name."

He gives her the mischievous smile that makes him look like a little kid – and somehow manages to be sexy as hell at the same time. "Guess that means I get to make you call me Jim?"

She shoots him the smile that has been known to render a room full of ambassadors completely speechless in return. "You absolutely do, Jim."

"So, what say you, Nyota? Do we go back in?"

"You bet. " She tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow. "But… I have to tell you one more thing, Jim."

He stops, looking curiously down at her. "Sure – what's that?"

"You keep telling me you get it. And yes – to a large extent, you do. But you need to know that you don't get it as well as you might believe; you've still got a couple surprises in store, I think."

Now he's confused – and intrigued as hell. "By which you mean…?"

She shakes her head. "No. Not my secret to tell, Jim. But keep your eye on Spock, okay? And… check the doorway to your room at some point later today, too. Just saying."

Jim shrugs, smiling good-naturedly at her, and keys in the code to his door to let them both back into the room. And of course – of course – he's not going to wait until later to check the doorway. He looks up, glimpses the mistletoe – and bursts out laughing.

"Damn. I figured pigs would fly before I'd be under the mistletoe with Nyota Uhura on Christmas morning." Jim's laughing again, and it's contagious; now everyone else (with the exception of Spock, of course) is laughing as well.

Nyota freezes briefly as Jim leans forward – then grins unreservedly up at him as he gives her an entirely chaste peck on the cheek.

"Pigs are flyin'," McCoy observes with a laugh, "and Hell has officially frozen over."

He grabs Jim by the arm then, shoving him gently back down to sit on the edge of his bed again. "And we've all been waitin' way too damn long to open presents – so let's get to it, infant."

The doctor suddenly sees Spock, who has moved to the periphery of the room and is beginning to look increasingly uncomfortable – and that won't do at all. Think fast, McCoy.

"Commander," he gestures toward Jim with the sweep of an arm, "go keep that one in line, will you? Sit on him if you have to."

"That hardly seems as though it would be necessary, Dr. McCoy." Nonetheless, Spock moves to sit next to Jim – and looks somewhat taken aback when Jim then suddenly moves to stand.

"Captain, if you would prefer that I sit elsewhere, I can –"

Jim seems a bit shocked and contrite all at once. "No no no, Spock," he says hastily, "that's not it at all. I just remembered that I've got to get all of your presents out of the closet over there."

He crosses his quarters, moving to a small closet in the corner and opening the door to rummage briefly before pulling out a largish – and very full – duffel bag. With a muffled grunt, he hoists it over one shoulder before returning to sit next to Spock on his bed.

Under the mistletoe with Uhura, on my bed with Spock – shit, what's next? Jim can't help but laugh a little at that – and he laughs even more when he sees the shock on everyone's faces as he starts to pull out a series of wrapped gifts, piling them up on the bed beside him.

"You guys didn't think you had a monopoly on Christmas present buying, did you? After all, you're the best Command crew In Starfleet. And since we all know that I'm the best captain in Starfleet," Jim continues with a grin, "It stands to reason I'd be getting you gifts, doesn't it?"

"If you say so, Keptin." Jim is pretty sure Chekov might swallow his own ears if his smile gets any bigger. "But – here." The young navigator fishes a small package out of the middle of the pile under the tree. "Open mine first."

Nyota stops him with a warning hand and an affectionate smile. "Hold on, there, Jammie-Boy. We've got other matters to attend to before we go ripping right into the presents." She moves over to the table and unwraps one of the parcels she'd placed there – and the smell of baking starts to waft through the room.

"We're not doing this on an empty stomach, Mr. Chekov," she continues, smiling, "and if it's Christmas morning, we're going to have my Nana's cinnamon rolls…"

She pulls the wrapping away from the other package. "…And the captain can tell you what these are, can't you, Jim?"

Chekov is baffled at the captain's response; it's a plate of cookies, from what he can see – cinnamon and sugar cookies. They look and smell as though they've just recently come out of the oven – and they smell delicious, really they do – but… they're just cookies. And the captain is looking at them like he's seeing a ghost.

"Snickerdoodles," Jim says softly, staring intently at the plate. "My Grandma Kirk made snickerdoodles every year. We left some for Santa on Christmas Eve, and then had the rest of them on Christmas morning while we opened up presents."

He looks up at Nyota now, his eyes shinier than usual. "How could you have possibly known about that?"

Of course, he realizes almost immediately how she knew, and turns to Bones with an inquiring look. His friend replies with a shrug.

"You were always goin' on about the damn snickerdoodles – not that I had a clue in Hell what you were talking about. But I mentioned them last night, and Nyota knew right away what they were." The doctor sends her an encouraging smile. "She's the one who insisted on baking them this morning."

"Holy shit, Nyota – you actually baked these?" Sulu's eyes are wide, now. "Damn, I can't remember the last time I ate something that wasn't straight out of the replicator." He sniffs the air with exaggerated pleasure before starting to pass the plates of goodies around the room. "This is going to be epic. Absolutely epic."

"Maybe I need to start gettin' all nostalgic about my Gram's sandwiches, you think?" Scotty gives Nyota a wink. "Perhaps I might inspire you to make some of those, lass?"

Smiling broadly – and blushing a little at having become the center of attention – Nyota rolls her eyes in mock exasperation at the Chief Engineer. "Don't press your luck, Scotty – eat the damn rolls and like 'em." She punctuates the sentence by chucking a cinnamon roll toward his head, which he catches neatly while the room erupts in laughter around them.

"This was a very thoughtful gesture on your part, Nyota." To their surprise, Spock has quietly joined in the conversation. "I have assumed that it was also through your efforts that each of us has a Christmas stocking on what passes for a mantel this morning; am I correct?"

She gives him a surprisingly warm smile. "Actually, Spock, you're not. The stockings were all Leonard's idea – he dug those up somewhere and managed to fill them up all on his own."

"Yeah, well…" McCoy seems embarrassed to be credited for this act. "Can't have Christmas without stockings, can you?" He looks around the room as though someone is planning to argue that point with him.

Glaring at the cookie in his hand as though it has somehow offended him, he takes a fierce bite out of it before continuing. "Like tryin' to do it without a tree," he grumbles. "Just ain't right otherwise."

The doctor subsides into an embarrassed silence, and Spock finds himself more than slightly surprised to learn that McCoy, of all people, had been the one who had made sure that he had been included in this little Terran ritual along with all the others.

The words are leaving Spock's mouth now, almost of their own volition. "Although my own experience of the holiday is understandably limited, I would be inclined to agree with you, Dr. McCoy. My… mother routinely included a Christmas stocking for me as part of her own observance of the holiday when I was quite young."

The room is silent, now, and Spock is immediately sorry to have exposed himself so completely in front of the others. Then he realizes that McCoy is smiling – really smiling – at him, and he feels Jim put a reassuring arm around his shoulder, giving Spock a brief but firm squeeze before letting go.

"Imagine I'd have liked your mother a lot, Spock." Somehow, McCoy's tone is exactly what Spock needs to hear at this moment; respectful and affectionate, but utterly devoid of pity.

"I believe that to be highly likely, Doctor."

He chooses to leave it at that; this really is as much as he can talk about his mother just now without allowing negative emotions to overcome the predominantly positive ones that have so far accompanied the morning's festivities.

As suddenly as the silence had fallen, it is gone again, and the room is buzzing once more with snatches of conversation and laughter.

"It's all part of that whole family thing, Spock." Jim's voice is quiet, and Spock can feel Jim's warm breath against his ear as he leans closer to speak to him privately. "They're emotional. Messy. All of that – especially when there are humans involved." The arm comes around his shoulders again, resting there somewhat longer than before. "I think it's probably good to have a chance to think of your mom this morning, even if it does hurt, too."

Spock does not trust his voice just now, but nods a reply.

Jim thinks that this is also probably a really good time to change the subject, and lets his arm drop from around Spock before addressing the rest of the group.

"All right – now I think we'd better get to opening some presents before Chekov explodes over there." Leaning forward toward the pile of gifts beneath the tree, Jim finds a squarish package, handing it to Chekov. "Here you go, big guy. If I'm opening yours, then you should open mine."

As it turns out, Jim's gift from Pavel is a book – an honest-to-God book. All of his friends know that Jim loves actual books; PADDs are all well and good, but pages – well, pages are just amazing.

"Tolstoy, Nabokov, Pasternak, Solzhenitsyn – all in one volume? Dude, that's fantastic – thanks so much!" Jim flips through the pages briefly before scanning the table of contents. "I'd better make sure I'm in one hell of a good mood before I read this, though – otherwise I might end up killing myself or something, because some of these guys are just depressing as anything."

Chekov grins mischievously at him. "Depression was invented in Russia, you know."

The group dissolves into laughter yet again, and Jim pokes Pavel's knee with one bare foot as Pavel sits cross-legged on the floor. "Yours, now."

Pavel takes his time, pulling the paper from the box before opening it to reveal, of all things, "A snow globe, Keptin? It is beautiful! Is St. Basil's, 'Karu! See?"

And indeed it is; in a glass sphere big enough that Pavel uses both hands to hold it, snow seems to fall on the brightly-colored onion domes of St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow. It's an amazingly accurate scale model of the fantastically intricate building, and Chekov is entranced.

Jim can't help but grin at the sight of Pavel's excitement. "Remind you of home, Pavel?"

"Da, Keptin – it is wonderful! Thank you so much!" He's almost bouncing with excitement.

"Moscow, lad? Why was it I thought you and Nadya were from Yekaterinburg?" Scotty sounds a little confused.

"They are, Scotty." Jim nods at Pavel. "But Mr. Genius here was too damn smart for his hometown, so he spent a lot of his school years in Moscow – living with your grandma, right?"

"My great-grandmother, Keptin – but yes, I was living with my Babushka while I went to school in Moscow." Pavel looks admiringly at Jim. "You don't forget anything, do you?"

"More than I'd like to, Ensign – but you've gotta admit that it's not too hard to remember that you're from Russia."

"And isn't that just the truth?" Sulu elbows Chekov teasingly in the ribs. "I'm pretty sure most of Starfleet has got that figured out by now, Pav."

"Oh, Hikaru – not most of Starfleet." Jim winks at him. "I'd go with all of Starfleet – and most of the rest of the Federation." Reaching back into the pile of gifts, Jim tosses one toward his pilot. "This one would be yours."

It's no secret in their circle of friends that if such a thing is possible, Hikaru likes old-fashioned books even more than Jim does – so he's not entirely surprised when that's what Jim has found for him.

"Whoa, Kirk - The Philosophy of Kahless the Unforgettable. That is just too cool – where could you have possibly found this?" Because, face it – it's not as though this would be an easy book to find in Federation space, seeing as how Kahless had earned his fame (and become "the Unforgettable") as Emperor of the Klingons in the 9th Century. And the Klingons? Well, they're not exactly doing business with the Federation just now.

"You know me, Sulu – connections." Jim winks again. "And I figured that as much as you like strategy and philosophy, you'd get a kick out of reading this guy. Sounds like he was a warrior king, and one hell of a philosopher along with it. The Klingons seem to like him, that's for sure."

Sulu knows that, and is well aware that Jim knows every bit as much about that era of Klingon history as he does, if not a whole lot more. It's obvious to him now that Jim is trying not to rub his nearly encyclopedic knowledge of other civilizations into the faces of everyone else.

He wonders sometimes if anybody – himself included – has any idea exactly how damn smart Kirk is.

"Seriously, Jim – awesome stuff. Don't know what you did to get your hands on this, but thanks. You knew I'd love it."

"You're welcome, Sulu – I kind of hoped you would." Now Hikaru is holding a long, slender package toward Jim. "My turn, now?"

Jim makes short work of unwrapping his present from Sulu – and even if he's not overly surprised by what's in the box, he's thrilled all the same.

"Damn, Sulu – my own katana?" Jim holds the sword up to show the rest of them, turning it slightly so that the fierce, polished blade catches the light. "This is absolutely fucking gorgeous."

Lowering it again, he hefts it gently, testing the weight of the metal against his hands. "Seriously. Just gorgeous."

He hates to think how much Sulu must have spent on this – but he's not going to ruin this truly cool gift by feeling guilty about it.

"Purely selfish, Jim." Hikaru is trying to act nonchalant – but it's clear that he's enormously pleased that Jim likes the gift so well. "I was getting tired of having you borrow my spare when we'd practice dueling."

Jim snickers. "You saying you just gave me this because you wanted me to keep my hands off your weapon?"

He's hoping to get a rise out of Sulu with that – but he's floored when it's Chekov who responds instead.

"I am thinking that I want you to keep your hands off his weapon, Keptin." He says this with the kind of exaggerated eyebrow wiggle that tells Jim that he recognizes the attempt at a dirty joke, and is going right along with it.

"Pavel!" Hikaru, scandalized and embarrassed in equal parts, has done a double face palm as Jim (and everyone else) howls with laughter. Spock remains predictably quiet, but Jim could swear that he can almost feel the amusement radiating from his First.

So, it's like that now with these two, is it? Jim thinks. Good for you, Sulu – and good job finally pulling your head out of your ass, Chekov.

"After all, 'Karu," Pavel observes reasonably, "I haven't had my hands on your weapon yet – so why should he?" He's looking inordinately proud of himself, Jim notices – and even though Sulu's face is still planted firmly in his hands, it's clear that he's laughing now, too.

"Good Lord." McCoy is doing his best to sound disgusted – and failing pretty spectacularly to suppress another laugh. "I think we've created a monster. Hell, whose idea was it to let him sit at the grownup table this year, anyway?"

Hikaru has taken his face out of his hands now, and throws one arm around Pavel's shoulders, pulling him closer.

"That'd be me, Doc," he says, quirking a wry grin at McCoy before treating Chekov to an eyebrow wiggle of his own. "And you'd do well to remember, Pav – it's at the table, not under the table. At least for now."

Jim is amused and somewhat surprised to notice that Spock doesn't seem particularly fazed by the rather bawdy turn of events, and turns to him with a smile, silently looking for a reaction.

Spock inclines his head slightly toward the men sitting on the floor at their feet.

"You will recall, Jim, that I mentioned being fairly sure that Pavel and Hikaru had reached some sort of understanding."

Jim doesn't know if he's imagining the warmth in Spock's voice, in his expression – but he hopes he isn't.

"So you did, Spock," Jim replies in a gently teasing tone. "Very observant, as usual, Commander."

"Not that this isn't charming, you two," Scott interjects, raising an eyebrow at Sulu and Chekov.

"Though just for the record, it's not." Of course, Bones needs to throw in his two cents worth.

Scotty rolls his eyes at the doctor. "As I was saying… not that you two aren't just adorable, we've got other things to be opening, don't we now?"

Leaning forward to take a package out from under the tree, he grins ruefully toward Jim. "All things considered, this probably isn't the first thing you'll be wantin' for a while – but here it is, all the same."

Jim can tell from the shape and the weight of the gift pretty much exactly what it is – of course – but he unwraps it, just to be sure.

He smiles broadly at his Chief Engineer. "One thing I can tell you for sure, Scotty, and that's that there's no such thing as too much Glenlivet – not ever."

Scotty returns the wide grin. "Right you are – I've taught ye well, lad. Make a Scotsman of you yet – or as close as you can get, at least."

Jim sets the bottle of Glenlivet down on the nightstand by his bed before tossing Scotty a package of his own. "Yeah, about that whole Scotsman thing, buddy," he says, somewhat enigmatically, "I've been working on that."

Intrigued, Scotty rips into the plain green paper wrapping his gift, lifting the lid off a rather large, flat box to reveal a flash of red tartan plaid.

"What's this, Jim? Ye've never… it's a kilt, is it, now?" Wide-eyed, Scotty pulls out exactly that – holding up the garment for everyone to see. "Why, it's even the Clan Scott tartan – it's amazin', Jim."

"Glad you like it, Scotty – but there's a little bit more in there." Reaching across Spock now, Jim pulls a smaller, tissue-wrapped package out of the box Scotty has just opened. "Couple of accessories."

Eagerly, Scotty removes the paper to find a belt. "Regimental belt – that used to be part of the military uniform, way back when," he explains helpfully to everyone else. "You had your regimental insignia on the buckle."

He looks down at the buckle of his new belt – and nearly drops it in surprise. "But, Jim…" he stammers. "This is the Starfleet insignia."

"Yup." Jim nods, and McCoy is amused to note that the kid looks just like the cat that's swallowed a canary, he's so damn proud of himself. "See the envelope down there in the bottom of the box? That's the rest of the present. Note from Pike on behalf of the Admiralty, saying you've got special permission to wear the kilt as part of your dress uniform at certain functions – you know, diplomatic stuff, that kind of thing. But you can read that yourself."

The engineer is simply staring at Jim now, speechless. Finally, he shakes his head.

"How in all of God's green earth you could have known to do that for me I'll never know. Just… just thank you, Jim."

Jim gets an evil grin on his face. "Turns out you're not the only one to take advantage of other people's drunken confessions, Scotty." He stifles a laugh at Scott's somewhat shamefaced expression. "You don't even remember, I bet, telling me the story of your great-grandfather and how he'd never gotten over not being allowed to wear the kilt as part of his Starfleet dress uniform. I could tell it really bugged you – and I figured, what the hell. Maybe we can fix that a little."

Scott inclines his head in a brief nod of thanks. "That you have, Captain. First time I put this on, it'll be for Aidan Scott, and that's for sure."

Jim vaguely notices Spock watching him intently – he's not entirely sure why that is, but he hopes he has some idea. Sitting so close to Spock just now without really interacting is frustrating and somehow thrilling at the same time; he's close enough to touch – hell, he's close enough to kiss if I wanted to

Stop it, Kirk. Stop it, stop it, stop it. Jim's imagination has gone on without him – and he has to briefly shake his head when he realizes that Nyota has spoken to him, and is waiting for a reply.

"I'm sorry, Nyota – what did you say?" He drops his eyes so that he doesn't have to meet that all-too-knowing smile of hers – Jim's convinced that somehow, Nyota knows a lot that she's simply not letting on.

Of course, he can still hear the smile in her voice. "I was saying, Jim, that I've got two gifts for you." She hands over a small, flat package and a larger, more irregularly shaped one. "No explanations required – but open the little one first."

Obeying quickly, he tears the paper off the smaller gift – and the first thing he sees is a handwritten note. He looks up at Nyota as if to ask her silently whether or not he should share the note with everyone else; she understands his intent, and with an equally silent shake of the head, lets him know that he should keep it to himself.

"This will come in handy if things work out for you the way I'm expecting," reads the small sheet of paper. Under the note is a small digital storage disk; Jim reads enough Vulcan to be able to tell that this is a dictionary of useful phrases translated into Vulcan from Standard, and vice versa.

"I've taken the liberty of creating a file of favorites for you already, Jim, so you'll have a head start." Jim wonders if he's the only one who can tell that Nyota seems to be trying just a little too hard to smile right now; whether he is or not, he doesn't bring it up. He already knows she doesn't want him feeling sorry for her – and considering that he'd like nothing more than to start seeing the guy who broke up with her, Jim feels like that's probably the least he can do for her.

"Second one, now," she encourages him. He opens the soft package to find another note.

"You might need this to keep you company if things don't work out the way I expect – or at least that's the impression I've gotten." When the wrapping paper is torn away, Jim realizes that he's holding a stuffed plush cow – and bursts into laughter all over again.

Bones is the only other person in the room who catches the significance of the gesture, and laughs even harder than Jim. He'd heard about the night Jim and Nyota had met at a bar in Riverside, right before Jim had enlisted in Starfleet. He'd been hitting on her pretty hard when Nyota had told him, "I thought you were just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals."

Jim's reply – vintage Jim, of course – had been, "Well, not only."

McCoy grins at Uhura appreciatively. "Oh, I like you. You're fun."

"Don't give me too much credit." She looks a little embarrassed – but pleased, all the same. "I'd originally gotten it as a gift for my little niece – but when it came down to it, I just couldn't resist. The symbolism was just way too good."

Sulu has been watching this conversation like a tennis game, looking increasingly confused. "I don't suppose we want to know about the back story here, do we?"

"No." Nyota, Jim and Bones speak up at the same time – and then laugh some more, to the slight annoyance of the others.

Jim, still smiling, hands a small package to Nyota. "I'm afraid I'm not as, umm… creative as you are in selecting gifts – but, hey. Hope you like it, anyway."

She unwraps a smallish box, and stifles a tiny gasp when she opens it. "Not creative? Jim, this is gorgeous!"

The crystal flower she holds up is about the same size as her hand – and it's impossible to tell whether the figurine is reflecting the ambient light in the room, or somehow generating its own glow. The translucent leaves surrounding the single blossom are a soft jade green, and the petals of the flower are a vivid shade of rose – until they suddenly turn blue.

"Whoa – how does it do that?" Chekov's eyes are even bigger than usual.

"It has something to do with the material it's made of, Pavel – the Andorians have what I guess you'd call their version of a patent on it, and won't tell anybody how it works."

Jim reaches for the flower, which Nyota hands to him wordlessly. No sooner has it touched his hand but the flower changes color again – this time to a deep violet. "Sometimes it changes based on who's holding it."

He gives it back to Nyota – and it promptly turns orange. "And sometimes – well, sometimes I think it's just showing off."

That remark gets Jim what he calls Spock's "Eyebrow of Doom," as his First looks at him skeptically. "Surely, Jim, you are not insinuating that the figurine is in some way sentient – are you?"

"No, Spock – of course not. But you've got to admit that thinking of the flower as being a big showoff is a lot more fun than hypothesizing about why it changes color and how."

"I must admit no such thing, Jim – I find the concept of anthropomorphizing such an object to be inherently illogical – and certainly not, as you put it, fun."

The words themselves are disapproving – but Spock's eyes are warm as they look into Jim's, and it hits him all at once that Spock is teasing him. He realizes that he's grinning like an idiot now for no apparent reason – and he hopes that nobody's going to call him on it, at least not now.

Because he's still got Bones' present to give him – and Jim has been waiting damn near an entire year for the chance to see his best friend's face when he opens that present.

Then there's Spock's gift. Stealing a sidelong glance at his First Officer – who is sitting a whole lot closer than Jim has any right to expect, and who (amazingly enough) doesn't seem at all uncomfortable about having his captain all up in his personal space – it occurs to Jim that his gift for Spock might best be given to him later.

In private.

~o0o~


Oh, my God. I swear, I really, really thought it would finish in this chapter. Really I did.
Sheesh. Do you think I'll manage to have "Christmas" finished by Valentine's Day? (I totally will, I promise.) And I'll go back to work on "Sestina," which I truly haven't forgotten.

Meanwhile – I can't thank you all enough for the ridiculous amount of encouragement you've given me as I've worked on this goofy little piece. I've been floored by the number of favorites & alerts (and in at least one instance, floored by who was alerting – I had an "OMG, I can't believe you're reading my story!" moment, and felt like a bit of an idiot).

And as much as I love the alerts/favorites, I adore the reviews even more. Would love to hear from you!