It had been a long road after Spock had disappeared into the seclusion of Gol. Jim had never felt so alone as in that time, severed from his t'hy'la's mind, stuck in an admiralcy on Earth that he'd never really wanted and shouldn't have accepted.
But now he had his ship back. He had his crew back. And most of all, he had Spock back. And this was a different Spock. When he had returned to the Enterprise he had been like a wall of slate, unapproachable, ungiving. But since his encounter with V'Ger all that had changed. He couldn't say that the Vulcan was exactly emotional, not overtly, but V'Ger had loosened him. It had brought him past that terrible moment of self-doubt that had led him to pursue Kolinahr, past the chilling emptiness he had shown on his return to the ship, and through to a warmer and more open state in which he could, occasionally, show emotion with comfort.
That first night after they had returned to Earth, after V'Ger had shut up shop and gone home, as McCoy had put it, had been torrid and wonderful. Spock had come to Jim's quarters and entered tentatively, like a cat in new territory, full of unspoken apology and new hope. And Jim had forgiven him wordlessly, taking him in his arms and holding him, burying his face against the fabric of his clothes, and then, after he had peeled the Vulcan like a ripe fruit, against the spiced scent of his skin. Their lovemaking had been fevered and urgent, and had gone on through the night. McCoy had assessed the bags under his eyes and the content look on his face the next morning, and had just given him a knowing smile. Spock was back, and all was right with the world.
Now it was Christmas Eve, and Jim was enduring a Christmas season of tedium, sat in orbit of Earth waiting for orders, with nothing to do and nowhere to go. He sat in his quarters wishing for the walls around him to be a bit more – well, just a bit more homely, a bit more alive. This wasn't yet his Enterprise. It wasn't yet his quarters. It was just a room, and a bland room, at that.
When the buzzer sounded and the door slipped open to reveal Spock, the Vulcan's angular features and dark hair were a relief from the beige and grey of the room.
'Oh, Spock,' he said, smiling, a feeling of warmth pushing away the boredom. Then he noticed that the Vulcan held cases in his hands, and a chill ran through him. 'Spock?' he asked tentatively, in sudden fear that Spock had again made the decision to back out of this most human relationship.
'Our leave has been granted, Jim,' Spock said in his deep, warm voice.
Jim did a double take. He ran a hand confusedly through his hair. 'Leave? What leave, Spock?'
'Our leave, Jim,' Spock said, his eyes sparkling even though his face was quite composed. 'I applied to Command some time ago. We have ten days, starting now.'
Jim looked around, almost dithering at the thought of leaving this ship that was so new to him. Then he mentally slapped himself. Was he crazy? Ten day's leave with Spock, with Christmas tomorrow and then the rest of the week stretching out ahead?
'Well – uh – have you made arrangements, Spock?' he asked, getting up from behind his desk.
Spock's eyebrow tilted. 'I'm not sure what you take me for, Jim,' he said in a supremely relaxed tone, coming across the room with the ease of a cat, cases still in his hands. 'I have packed for you, and I have made all the arrangements.'
'Where are we going, Spock?' he asked, feeling amazed.
There was almost a smirk on the Vulcan's face. 'That is between me and the transporter operator,' he said. 'Are you ready to go?'
'Now?' Jim asked in amazement. 'I mean – right now?'
'Right now,' Spock nodded. 'As I said, I have made all the arrangements.' He crossed to Jim's closet and brought out his mustard yellow field jacket. 'Put this on, Jim,' he said. 'It will be cold.'
Well, that threw out most Southern Hemisphere destinations and tropical resorts. Spock had some familiarity with east coast USA, Jim knew, and of course Iowa was cold at this time of year. Maybe...
No. He wouldn't allow himself to speculate and spoil the surprise. He shouldered himself into the jacket and followed the Vulcan out into the corridor.
((O))
In the transporter room Rand handed Spock his own yellow field jacket with a knowing smile, and Spock put it on, exchanging a look with the woman that spoke of secrets shared.
'You have the coordinates,' he said, formal as ever despite the warmth in his eyes.
'Yes, sir,' she said smartly, gesturing the pair onto the transporter pads. 'Have a lovely time, gentlemen, and happy Christmas.'
'Thank you,' Jim said, still feeling slightly bewildered. He had been expecting an evening of paperwork, not this. 'Uh – you too, Janice. Have a lovely time.'
'Thank you, sir,' she replied, the grin on her face broadening. 'Oh, Mr Spock,' she said, holding something up in her hand that looked like wool, and tossing it to him as soon as he had noticed her gesture. He caught the woolly bundle, and pulled on a knitted red beanie with white snowflake patterns around it.
'Thank you, Chief,' Spock said gravely.
Jim looked at him and held in a snort of laughter. He was filled with a mixture of mirth and nostalgia, remembering all those times in their first five year mission when Spock had worn hats like this to hide his ears.
'Hey, where's mine?' he asked with mock petulance.
'There is one in your case, Jim,' Spock said.
'Beside, you don't feel the cold like Mr Spock does, sir,' Rand put in. 'We need to keep him warm.'
'Oh, believe me, Miss Rand, I know just how to look after Mr Spock,' Jim said emphatically.
'Jim, we are due for beam down,' Spock reminded him, and Jim looked at him with a grin, wondering if the Vulcan were becoming embarrassed.
'Okay,' he said, making himself look serious again and turning back toward Chief Petty Officer Rand with a more captainly expression on his face. 'Beam us down, Chief.'
Rand's hands moved on the console, and the ship dissolved, to be replaced by a white wilderness of snow that dazzled the eyes. Jim blinked as he reformed, seeing the landscape take on shape as his eyes adjusted; stone walls capped with a thick foot of snow, bare-branched trees and a few evergreens heavy with snow, rising mountains that almost blended into the white sky. He exhaled, and his breath came out in a white cloud.
'Well! Spock, where are we?' he asked in amazement.
Spock looked smug, if chilly. 'The Cairngorms, Jim. That's in – '
'The Highlands of Scotland,' Jim finished for him, turning around on the crunching snow to take in the full circle of the scenery. Behind them was a low cottage, bulging with natural boulders that made up the walls, its roof lost under its own blanket of snow. 'Wow, Spock...'
He turned to his lover and embraced him, sharing a long kiss that warmed the Vulcan's chilly lips.
'Come on, Spock,' he said. 'Let's go inside.'
((O))
'It is a five hundred year old cottage,' Spock said as they reclined in front of a crackling fire. 'Originally it was inhabited by labourers, but it has been holiday accommodation for the past hundred years.'
Outside dark was falling, and the snow gleamed palely with the last light of the sun. The scent of mulled wine and good food lingered in the air. Spock was sitting on the floor with his back against an armchair. Jim lay stretched out on the rug with his head in the Vulcan's lap. Tinsel and streamers that were strung across the ceiling moved gently in the warm rising air. In the corner of the room a real Christmas tree stood, ornaments glinting in the fire's glow, tiny coloured lights twinkling softly.
'You paid for all of this to be done?' Jim asked, waving his hand vaguely at the decorations.
'Of course,' Spock nodded, his hand on Jim's head, stroking across his hair. 'It is agreeable?'
'Spock, it's beautiful,' Jim said sincerely.
'The kitchen is fully stocked. There is firewood for more than ten days. If we so wish we do not have to leave these walls,' Spock said, the deep rumble of his voice travelling directly from his torso into Jim's ear. 'If we do wish to go outside – there are skis, and a toboggan.'
'A toboggan?' Jim asked, grinning, twisting his neck to look up at the Vulcan. He imagined him astride a proper old-fashioned wood toboggan, careening down a hill. That was something he had to see before these ten days were out.
'Yes, Jim,' Spock said quite gravely.
'Do you know, I don't think we've ever had a proper Christmas together,' Jim mused. 'Do you remember that time on Beldania Prime? In a war zone, Bones held hostage in that half-demolished place on the other side of the street...'
'We retrieved the doctor safely,' Spock said. 'That was Christmas present enough.'
'Well, what about those turkeys?' Jim asked. 'Dear god, that smell...'
'We missed Christmas, but we celebrated in our own way,' Spock replied.
Jim closed his eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire, feeling the heat on his cheek. He was remembering that last time, when he had been looking forward to a week something like this, and had woken up to find Spock gone, apparently forever.
'Don't think of it,' Spock said softly, his fingers straying over the captain's forehead, his mind obviously picking up those stray thoughts. He bent to lightly kiss Jim's head. 'The Kolinahr was a grave mistake, as I found out. It is not a mistake I will repeat.'
'You're never going to go away again,' Jim murmured.
'I will do everything in my power not to,' Spock said.
((O))
In the bedroom was another Christmas tree, a smaller one with sparkling lights and colourful ornaments. The bed was an antique with a brass frame, covered in a rich red woven blanket, and had held the human and Vulcan cosily all night. The small wood-framed windows looked out over a vista of snow-covered mountains, and let in just enough cold to make the bed feel like the warmest place in the world.
Jim turned over in bed to see the sun just starting to glimmer over the tops of the mountains, sending sheets of gold out over the snow. High in the air a bird circled, but all else was still. Spock was just stirring, but the covers were pulled so high over him that only the dark crown of his head showed. Jim twitched the blankets back to expose a pointed ear flushed with warmth, and kissed it, murmuring, 'Happy Christmas, Spock.'
Spock stretched under the covers and moved closer to Jim, bringing the blazing heat of his naked body against the human's. Jim made a wordless noise of pleasure and pushed himself against the Vulcan.
'Merry Christmas, Jim,' Spock said.
Jim reached his hand down into that fire of warmth to feel the soft stirring between Spock's legs. Spock sighed with pleasure as the human stroked along his slowly stiffening organ. Their lips met in a kiss, and Jim pressed closer, bringing his own morning erection against Spock's.
'I love you, my beautiful Vulcan,' Jim murmured, and Spock kissed him again, saying nothing, but Jim could feel the depth of his love as the Vulcan's fingers traced over his forehead. It was like plummeting into a space that had no bottom. No wonder Spock had been afraid enough to flee to Gol. This was a maelstrom in that orderly brain, a whirl of passion, joy, warmth, jealousy, and desire.
He returned the kiss, trying to erase every fear and insecurity in the Vulcan's mind with that kiss. Spock was such a different being now, just from that single meld with the machine-being V'Ger. With that Spock had been exposed to the feelingless existence that he could have, that Kolinahr might have given him, and thank god he had chosen the other path, an acceptance of the emotion that made him what he was. One would never guess it from looking at the Vulcan's composed countenance, but Jim could feel it in every interaction; the ease that Spock now had, the release of guilt, the acknowledgement that he had feelings and although he did not need to let them control him, he did not have to be ashamed.
He burrowed himself under the covers and gave himself to Spock entirely, letting the Vulcan explore his body with burning fingers until Spock growled and nudged his legs apart. The Vulcan took spiced oil from beside the bed and tipped it onto his hand, then slipped a finger gently between Jim's cheeks, through the muscular ring and into the heat of his body. Jim gasped and arched as Spock introduced another finger, then a third, and then replaced them with the soft-hardness of his erection. The sensation as Spock pushed home sent thrills rushing tightly through his loins.
The Vulcan brought his hands up to the human's face, tracing fingertips across his temples, and as he pulled out and came home again Jim felt the sudden electric surge of Spock's mind in his, his thoughts reaching into Jim's and becoming one. He surrendered himself to Spock's pleasure, letting the Vulcan's primal arousal set his own on fire as Spock's slim hips thrust against his body. He could feel the grip of his own body around Spock's organ, he could feel how all logic and intellectual thought had been pushed away to be replaced with pleasure. Spock could feel the electric arousal that Jim felt, the tight urgency in his balls, the glide of Spock inside him and the pressure of his belly against Jim's erection, moving with each thrust.
Together they exploded in orgasm, and all awareness of the outside world was annihilated in a dizzying glow. Spock lay against Jim's chest, panting, his head close against Jim's and his arms loose on the bed beside him. Jim turned his head and kissed him, and kissed him again, lost in the scent of the spiced oil and their own bodies.
'Dear god, Spock,' he murmured.
'Merry Christmas,' Spock replied.
They lay entwined in the bed, watching a gentle drift of snow falling from the sky and creating a haze before the mountains. Jim was used to having the galaxy before him, but right now he felt like his universe was no bigger than this cosy room with his Vulcan in his arms. He needed nothing more.
