"I told you he wouldn't show up," said the doctor, through his teeth.
"Really?" Kirk glanced at him; they stood parallel to one another, "Was that before or after you promised he would?"
"I never said that."
The captain leaned against the countertop. They were in the common area of the canteen, waiting for Spock to join them. As McCoy outlined in their earlier messages, there were Christmas customs to try out. Naturally, they needed a scientific presence. 'Supervision', Spock called it, when the doctor presented him with the idea and a casual invitation.
He appeared, as Captain Kirk began his typical, slightly nervous pacing. They met before the replicator, with McCoy standing slightly behind them, his shoulders shadowing one of theirs.
"Punctual as ever, Mister Spock," he said.
"As much as possible, Doctor, with your attention to detail. Is 'sometime after dinner, I suppose' a common measurement of time, among humans?"
"Alright," Kirk stepped between them, "Let's get started. Bones?"
He inputted a tape at the food-replicator, while the others watched.
"Gentlemen," he gestured at the hatch as it opened, "I give you hot chocolate."
Spock's lips twitched; he wanted to speak but found no words. Instead, he shook his head. Just once, to each side.
Kirk nudged the scientist's shoulder, pushing him nearer to the machine.
"What's the matter, Spock?" McCoy asked, partially smiling.
"I believe you are aware, Doctor, of the affects such a substance may have on Vulcans."
"Half-Vulcan," muttered McCoy, "It won't touch your human half, wherever that's buried."
"Besides," Kirk proposed, "it's been replicated. Synthetic powder, Spock. I doubt the computer could even find a scrap of chocolate to put in it."
Spock did not cite the odds which disagreed. The computer's memory banks were familiar with recipes for all the human foods Spock had ever bothered researching, and more. While not always able to generate enough of genuine ingredients, it made a convincing copy of everything in its store.
The three mugs stared back at them, through wisps of steam. McCoy reached for his own, followed by Kirk. Spock would not pick up his serving; the captain had to pass it to him, and force his fingers around the handle.
"You'll like it, Spock," he promised.
"You'll be fine," McCoy added, sensing the hesitation as it spread across his face. Spock was staring into the cup, through the murky and essentially artificial liquid.
"Have either of you tried this before? I would like a point of reference, for the human behavior."
"Once, mixed with coffee," Kirk said.
McCoy shrugged and mumbled, 'probably.'
"Just drink it, Spock," Kirk said, resting his hand on the Vulcan's forearm, "Stubbornness doesn't suit you."
"That's a very human trait, I think," prompted McCoy.
Spock raised his glass to comply, waiting patiently for the other two to grin and say 'cheers' at each other. This was another tradition he saw no meaning in.
Simultaneously, they sipped the hot chocolate.
"It's nice," Kirk decided.
"Not bad," agreed McCoy, "but I hate replicated water."
"I know you do." He turned and smiled up at Spock, "Opinion?"
"None, Captain. Its purpose, as far as I am aware, is to provide nourishment and energy."
"But how does it taste?" begged McCoy, "I know you've got taste-buds, Mister Spock, even if they are a bit different."
To give the correct answer, Spock was required to try another sample of the drink. Kirk watched with gleaming eyes, eager to copy him.
"Sweet," he admitted, taking a cautious step backward, "It is enjoyable."
Kirk just smiled, while McCoy offered a quiet, "I'll drink to that."
Again, they tipped back their glasses. Even Spock.
"So, no real chocolate, then?" McCoy set his empty mug down in the replicator, and prompted another by pressing a button.
"No," he kept the cup in front of his face, and spoke into it. His voice was slow, and danced with its own echo before the others heard it.
"There is chocolate?" Kirk moved to take a seat at the table. McCoy followed him, and sat casually on the tabletop.
"In the powder," Spock's voice was quiet, "Collected at the bottom of the cup."
"You don't need to finish it," Kirk said softly, "I understand."
"It is, as humans say, 'too late.'"
"Uh oh," Bones said, monotone.
Spock placed his mug back in the replicator, and chose to sit on the ground. He tried to copy the way his father sat in meditations, but felt embarrassed and gave up. Leaning forward, Kirk watched him.
For a moment, he laughed; sparse, dry, and quiet. McCoy stood and stepped anxiously toward him.
"Are you alright, Spock?" he knelt beside him, "I'm sorry…"
The Vulcan was quiet, and glanced mainly at Kirk.
"It's okay," soothed Kirk, as he joined them.
"It is," Spock promised, as they heaved him up between their shoulders, "I was prepared for such emotional disturbance. I think… I think I may have another cup."
"I don't," McCoy recited, "I think you need some help home."
"'A ride', as humans say."
They emerged into the hall, thankful to find it unattended. Lights guided them to a turbo-lift.
"Why the sudden fascination with humans?" McCoy asked, once they were sealed in the elevator. Spock leaned against the railing, smiling to himself.
"They are… sweet."
The doctor shook his head, and rubbed one hand vainly through his hair. Kirk laughed, and reached for Spock's shoulder.
"As in, thoughtful," Spock corrected himself, upon feeling the warmth of his captain's touch.
"Sure," the other two said, at once. Although their tones were completely different, Spock gathered the same meaning from each.
Pleased as men,
With men to dwell