A/N: This is a flashforward that takes place on Christmas Day. I'll get back to the action with the next chapter.

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Enterprise High

being a high school AU of ST: XI

with many hijinks

and much angst

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Chapter Thirty-Two: An Interval

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Jim's motorcycle had broken down on Christmas Eve. Actually, Sam had been riding it and had run into a tree. Sadly, he was uninjured in the crash, and said he'd fix it, but until then, Jim was stuck with his ancient bicycle as his only means of transportation. Sam squirted some oil on the chain and pronounced it rideable. Jim gave him the evilest of looks, but there wasn't really much Sam could do. It would have been completely unreasonable to ask him to fix the motorcycle on Christmas Day.

In truth, Kirk could have done it himself, but he incredibly stubborn, and he'd just finished Spock's present, which had a huge mechanical component: he was done with building things for a while. So on his decrepit bicycle, Kirk rode around to everybody's house—Bones, Chekov, Chapel; everybody in the hoverclub, plus a few more (like Gaila and Gary Mitchell)—delivering his presents.

Despite his family's poverty, Kirk got a present for every one of his friends and family members each year. To his surprise, most of his friends had presents for him too, and he became an accidental delivery boy, because, upon hearing where he was going next, they would beg him to deliver a parcel. Thus, by the time he got to the Vulcan embassy, Kirk had a heap of brightly wrapped boxes tied unsteadily to the back of his bike.

The guard on duty raised his eyebrow in the trademark Vulcan fashion. Kirk put on the brakes and smiled as nicely as he could at the guard.

"I'm here to see Spock, son of Sarek," he said. He gestured to the gifts. "Special delivery. Or, special deliveries."

"Do you have an appointment," said the guard, in a remarkable vocal approximation of a robot.

"Yes?" hazarded Kirk.

The guard let him in.

Kirk had to leave his bike inside the interior courtyard, but a helpful carrybot lugged half of the packages up the stairs for him (Vulcans were evidently fans of physical exercises, not turbolifts. Kirk thought this was typical). When Spock finally opened his door, after a knock, to find Kirk surrounded by presents, Kirk was panting heavily.

"These aren't all from me," Kirk said hastily. "I stopped by, um, everybody's house beforehand, and, well, they all had something to give you."

Spock watched in some wonder as Kirk carried half of the heap of presents into Spock's dining room and set them down all over the table.

"Scotty had to tie them onto my bike for me," Kirk huffed, going back for another load. "Gaila had, like, three different things for you, and so did Nyota. Here's one of hers…"

With Kirk supervising, Spock unwrapped his presents. Kirk got more and more worried. Everybody had gotten Spock various perfect items, like a copy of Gottlob Frege's Begriffsschrift (in the original German, which Spock could evidently read—Kirk felt this was equally preposterous and adorable) and a set of meditation candles. Kirk pointed out a little, rather battered package as the last present.

"Oh," said Spock politely, hefting the parcel. "And who is this from?"

"Me," said Kirk.

Spock opened it. He got an even politer expression on his face as he turned the object he had extracted from the wrapping around in his hands.

"It is… interesting," said Spock. He pursed his lips. "Exactly what is it?"

"It's a glasses case," said Kirk, scooting forward. "But I knew you like puzzles, so, it's a puzzle box. You have to figure out how to open it."

Spock's eyes narrowed. He poked at the box. It was two handspans long, one wide, and made of a delicate wood that Kirk had found at a local bay market a month ago.

Kirk watched in some amusement as Spock worked out how the box opened. It took quite some time, nearly ten minutes, but Spock was utterly enthralled—as was Kirk. It was a huge pleasure to watch Spock concentrate on minute details, to watch his mind click like well-oiled clockwork over the various possibilities before him. For some reason, the look on his face as he concentrated on the case made Kirk's affection for him double in the space of minutes. By the time he had laid the empty insides bare, Spock looked positively euphoric, an expression that had been building the entire time. Kirk had appreciated not just the destination, but the journey as well.

"It resets when you close it," said Kirk. "It has about a hundred different opening patterns. It'll take you a while to find all of them, I think. And it was damn hard to make."

Spock looked over his glasses at him. "You made this?"

Kirk shifted on his tired feet. "Yeah. Had some free time."

Spock blinked once or twice. "A remarkable feat," he said thoughtfully. "Thank you, James."

"You're welcome. You can call me Jim, you know."

"Yes, I know," said Spock. He set the case down. "I will retrieve your present," he said a little more loudly than was necessary.

"You got me something—?" But Spock had already disappeared into the hallway. He was back in moments, carrying a thin, beautifully wrapped package that, when Kirk took it from his hands, proved to be soft and flexible.

Tearing off the tissue paper revealed a thick, finely woven scarf about six feet long with blue and gold stripes. Kirk immediately wrapped it around his neck with a wide smile, the tassels coming around to whack him in the nose.

"I love it!" he enthused, stroking the fine fabric. Spock watched him twirl around. His eyes matched the blue exactly (that had been on purpose), and the gold brought out the fiery light in his thatch of blond hair.

"I am glad," murmured Spock. "I very much enjoyed knitting it."

"Are you serious?" said Kirk, unwrapping one loop of the scarf and peering at it. "It looks professional! Do you knit all the time, or something?"

"I have only knitted once before," said Spock, before he could stop himself. "I made my mother a scarf years ago. She wore it until it fell apart."

Kirk put down the end of the scarf slowly. Then he sighed, and stared at the floor.

"Yeah," he said, his voice heavy. "I made my mom a puzzle box a few years back. It… it broke, last May."

They both looked up, and into each other's eyes, at the same time. "I'm sorry," they said together. Kirk smiled, and Spock nearly did. Then Kirk, before he could stop himself, went across the room and hugged Spock.

It was a brief hug, but it spoke volumes. Society had done away with one-armed, side-by-side man hugs centuries ago, so what Kirk gave Spock was the real thing. But Kirk and Spock, it was important to say, had never hugged before. It was almost too much for both of them. Kirk bit his lip and lost himself in the smoothness of Spock's form, and Spock, with his incredible sense of smell, turned his head slightly and got a positively intoxicating whiff of Kirk's hair.

After only seconds, they broke, Kirk trying to smile and Spock trying to be remote.

"Well," said Kirk awkwardly. "Merry Christmas."

"To you as well," said Spock. He sounded more sincere than Kirk had ever heard him.

"We should hang out, over break," Kirk offered. "Or something."

"That would be pleasurable," said Spock. He picked up the glasses case. "I will attempt to learn the tricks to this gift before we meet again. Thank you, again, for constructing it for me."

"You're welcome. And the scarf—it's amazing." Kirk buried the bottom part of his face in a tasseled end, smiling shyly, and Spock, who had never really been one for cute things, found this utterly adorable.

They exchanged a few more farewells, and finally, Kirk left.

That made my day, Kirk thought happily as he took the stairs three at a time, the scarf snug around his neck.

I have rarely been so pleased, Spock thought contentedly as he settled down to work on the puzzle.

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