It was accomplished through the holodeck, their first official 'date.' Spock had only begun to inquire about the term's origins when McCoy threatened to close his panel of the correspondence, leaving Kirk and Spock alone. That happened often enough, he decided, after Spock apologized.
"That sounded a bit emotional to me, Spock," McCoy was impressed.
"Yes," the reply was hesitant, and the white construct flickered around them, "I have not been so deeply persuaded by emotion in approximately six earth-years."
"Me either," said Kirk, practicing a smile, "Shall we?"
He extended one arm to each side, waited for the others to accept them, and anticipated Spock's praise of the hologram's integrity; they all felt sweating skin and folded fabric. Kirk's dress uniform was stiff in contrast to Spock's leisure robes and the foreign civilian clothes McCoy managed to borrow on the outpost.
"Have you selected an environment, Admiral?"
"We hardly need a distraction," Kirk replied, after remembering to accept his new title.
"Then I don't think it qualifies as a 'date.'" McCoy decided.
The admiral shrugged and nestled his head apologetically onto McCoy's shoulder.
"Where'll it be then, Bones?"
By the end of their allotted time together, they had 'been' nowhere. They had merely discussed their options, while reminiscing thoroughly about each one:
An ice cream shoppe in McCoy's hometown, the treehouse of Kirk's youth, Spock's cabin on the original Enterprise. They finally settled on visiting a boat; sitting leisurely on the stern-side of the vessel, enjoying cold coffee-liqueur, and staring up at a Starry Night sky. All would be satisfied, then.
It was Spock who checked the time and calculated the duration of their meeting.
"Admiral, your conference with Headquarters," he advised, as Kirk tossed his head and shrugged his shoulders.
"Of course, Spock. Thank you." He dropped the Vulcan hand, patting it twice as he retreated, "Would you do me a favor?"
"Most likely, Admiral. What are you requesting?"
McCoy watched them, half-heartedly turning his head to face each speaker.
"A list. Of all the… scenarios we mentioned. We've got quite a few dates ahead of us, by the sound of things."
Their marriage would have occurred in a hologram as well, if not for Kirk's influence and Scott's ingenuity.
They would have been together, though, regardless. Spock had cancelled his Academy lectures for the first - and only - time in his career. Kirk politely rescheduled an interview, while McCoy insisted he had accidentally overslept. There would be time for the public, and their questions, after the ceremony.
And so there was, more positive and supportive than any expected.
At first, Stella did not understand the projector, hidden in the back room of the apartment.
McCoy was home with her on the day she resolved to read the instructions and program it herself.
"Where are you going?" he asked, as she walked, determined, down the corridor.
"Vulcan," Stella said, without turning her head.
"Hmm," he mused, raising an eyebrow, "really?"
His daughter did not pause; McCoy sighed and followed her. He watched as she switched the machine on, and tapped carefully at the keypad.
The lights dimmed, yet the room became warmer. McCoy blinked, after being suddenly and forcibly made aware of the sand in the artificial atmosphere.
"That's not half-bad," he decided, as Stella continued perfecting the color of the sky.
"I want it to be authentic," she explained, "What percentage of Vulcan-blood is copper?"
"I don't know," he shrugged, "About half…? Why?"
She turned one of the dials, just slightly to the left, and studied her skin as it became paler.
"We need to react properly to the atmosphere."
And while he knew it soothed her deep-rooted desire to be entirely, authentically Vulcan, he stayed quiet. Instead, he glanced at his hands, and found them slightly green, too.
"C'm'ere," he grinned, "we've gotta take a picture. Your Father'll lose his mind."
Best of all, the holodeck allowed the three of them to attend all of Stella's showcases; lyre concerts, multilingual spelling competitions, and, later, her robotic engineering trials.
They would gather, from two - or even three - separate places, stalled for all different reasons, and watch. She could never hear their clapping, but looked forward to it when they were reunited again.