Bones didn't know he was coming.
Well, to be precise, no one knew if he was coming because he'd kept his armed escort waiting until quite literally the last possible minute, long after Bones and Chapel and Rand had left, and that no one included Jim because his reason for climbing onto the transport ship was not the intended purpose.
This was not something the escort would be happy knowing, nor was it an instance of 'what they don't know can't hurt them.'
But there was something he was missing, damnit. If Spock had known him at the dance, known from the very moment they locked eyes (and he was really very impressed with himself for being that dense. Good going, Jim, holding hands with the telepathic father of your child for twenty minutes and expecting him not to notice) then there was no reason at all the moment hadn't devolved into whatever the vulcan equivalent of the Maury show was.
So far as he could tell, the only possible reasons it hadn't were: Spock knew he was the master of the house and had been so incredibly patient with him that it was actually painful, a thought that had terrified him until literally everyone in the house informed him that no, there wasn't a chance he knew; or: there was something more to Spock's side of the story that Jim didn't know. And whatever the hell that was, Jim had a feeling he wasn't going to like it one bit and Spock would never ever voice it.
There was someone who might, however.
When they reached Earth, just a few hours before the trial was to start (hey, he did say last minute), his two armed escorts met him in the transporter room, spit-shined in their dress uniforms as if someone at headquarters had given a damn that he would still be an Admiral on the ride over. Jim felt bad for them.
"Well gentlemen, I'm afraid this just won't do." Jim said as he looked them over, crossing his arms.
"Sir?" The ensign on the right asked, already terrified.
"I'm a Rear Admiral for at least a few hours more, and here you two are barely put together!"
"I..." the one on the left, a Commander by the stripes on his sleeve, looked a bit green around the gills at the rebuke "Sir, we have followed all the Starfleet protocols-"
"Oh, have you?" Jim marched forward, all the bravado he'd seen from the Admirals over the years etched into his movements as he got right up in the Commander's space and jabbed a hand at the collar of his shirt "Then what do you call this?"
Too easy. The Commander looked down and Jim took the opportunity to box his ear hard enough to knock him into the ensign a foot away, taking the phaser from his hand as he went. The ensign threw out his hands to brace for impact and Jim used a well-aimed roundhouse to send the other phaser across the room and out of range.
"What are they teaching you at the academy these days." Jim asked, then raised the phaser on them when the ensign went for the panic button on the transporter console. "Ah-ah. I wouldn't do that."
Scowling, the ensign lowered his hand. Jim kept his eyes on them as he rounded the panel himself and started tapping in a new set of coordinates.
"Now, I really do feel bad about this." Jim said conversationally "It's just that I don't get out much anymore and there's someone I have to see. You'll understand if they ever put you on trial." Jim walked back around the podium towards the transporter pad with the new and incredibly helpful emergency activation switch in his hand "You know, I read somewhere that one in ten Starfleet officers gets court-marshaled at some point. Though I suppose I've been court-marshaled, oh, eight times, so I'm sure a special few are throwing the numbers off."
He stepped up onto the pad and looked at the two very unhappy officers.
"Don't worry boys, I'll be back in the citadel soon enough for them to write you up for making a false report."
Jim tipped his non-existent hat to the escorts and hit the initiate button.
Dubai was as hot as the eighth circle of hell even at close to six in the evening. Jim felt thoroughly pressure-cooked by the time he reached the street with the mastery on it, the soles of his shoes making suspiciously melty sticking sounds as he trudged up the marble steps to the open courtyard.
He took one look at it and got slammed with a bizarre kind of nostalgia, feeling the imprints left on his soul of getting dragged through that first time by Gary to gawk at the pretty trainees and all the times after it when he couldn't resist coming back to chocolate-brown eyes and whip-crack wit and something so deeply connecting it scared him, to the final, gut-wrenching time he'd stumbled up the steps, clutching torn stitches and ignoring the frantic buzzing of his comm just praying he wasn't too late only to find out he was.
He had to blink away the phantom images from his eyes, and when he did he spotted exactly who he wanted to see ushering in the last of what Jim suspected was another class. She was the same willowy sort of severe he remembered, her every sharp, tall corner draped in finery and silk, her aged face no more aged then it had been ten years ago like she'd always been at this place and would be forever.
"Lady Clark" he called "if might have a moment of your time-"
The woman turned, gave him a sharp once-over, and declared "No returns."
Jim blinked. "I..." he stopped, because didn't his improv teacher once say never deny? It wasn't like he knew what he was going to ask anyway. He just wanted a clue to his mystery, and a reaction that sharp looked damn promising.
"Do...you get a lot of returns?"
"No, because I do not take them."
Jim walked closer, trying to look unassuming enough to win either her favor or her ire - he could work with both "Of course, I simply meant...do you get a lot of requests."
She scoffed, and while he wasn't sure he'd succeeded in his quest, she was at least still talking.
"Plenty. Buyer's regret. Happens all the time. People now have no respect for art! Once they taste, puf! The interest, it is gone. Not my problem."
"Is that so." Jim said "Do they give you a reason?"
"Of course! Hundreds! They come crying to me: oh, I am saddled with this thing I do not want! It is too needy, it is too burdensome, you must take it back!
They do not understand." her arms swept out to emphasize her words "It is a marriage, this contract. You must care for any masterpiece as a lover, weather a painting, a performance, or a slave. These people - hah!" she looked at him, clearly mocking "Most are not cut out for marriage."
"They come looking for this easy alternative they have dreamed up and find it not so easy after all. And I tell them what I tell you: I don't care what you do with it or how it ruins your life - no returns." She spun on her heel at the last to follow her students inside and Jim took a quick step after her.
"My lady - wait!"
"What?!" she snapped over her shoulder.
"Just one more question, if I may." he held out his hands, placating "Do you tell this to your students?"
Jim had never seen a more perfect example of someone looking down their nose, and he dealt with Starfleet Admirals as his job.
"Why do you think your beau would not sleep with you before purchase?"
The big oak doors shut behind her with echoing finality, leaving Jim with a certain foreboding sensation in his gut.
"But..." he said to no one, baffled, realizing the street sweepers do not need the details of his personal life just before he finished with 'he did.'
Jim felt like the final piece of a puzzle he hadn't known he was working on just fell onto the table. Now all he had to do was figure out where the hell it went.
There was a chime in the distance signaling the turn of the hour, and Jim did some quick mental math to figure out what time it was in San Francisco.
Well, since he was already planetside.
"Jim Kirk. We didn't think you were coming." Cartwright sneered at him as he strutted into the courtroom with all the bravado he thought he'd left on the bridge of the Enterprise. He sat down next to his crew and they stared, grins appearing on their faces as though all was right in the world. Jim's heart swelled a bit even if he knew the hope was false. He could give them this, but the reason he almost didn't come was that he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it wouldn't matter. Cartwright was the presiding judge, and so long as there was breath in that man's body Jim wouldn't be going free. All the Admirals who were on his side have no say, though they lined the room with his friends and comrades like silent monoliths, waiting to hear the verdict. Jim also knew that they were going to have to wait.
But he digressed.
"It was a near thing, counselor. Traffic from the colony was dreadful." he drawled.
Scotty clapped him on the shoulder and Bones muttered an affectionate insult he doesn't quite catch.
He looked down the line with a cock-sure grin on his face "But I couldn't very well abandon my men, could I?"
Cartwright hrumpfed and clacked his gavel "All rise. The accused may come forward."
Jim does as he was bid, and the trial begins.
"Admiral James Tiberius Kirk, you stand accused of treason, violation of the prime and temporal time directives, grand theft, vandalism, and several other lesser crimes associated with these acts. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Yes." Jim said after an exaggerated moment of consideration "Since I'm here, I suppose I must. Isn't that right?"
There was a tiny murmur in the assembly, and Jim nodded "Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die every day."
"Pardon, Admiral?" Cartwright snapped.
"Napoleon Bonaparte, your honor. It seemed something good to say."
Cartwright looked a bit red in the face, already tired of Jim's antics. He squinted at him mockingly "You feel you are analogous to him? Persecuted and exiled?"
"What I feel does not matter, sir, what matters is that I am guilty of all I am accused of here today. I did, in fact, steal the Enterprise from her place in deconstruction, and I did travel through time causing unknown and irreparable alterations to the past. And I did, in fact, save millions of lives in the process."
The murmur was back, much louder now with an emotion Jim would like to think was at least somewhat to his favor.
"You presume to lord your deeds over us? I suppose you think you deserve a medal."
"I presume nothing, your honor, and I hope you don't find me pompous in saying so, but I'm afraid my awards drawer is already overcrowded."
The murmur turns into a rumble at this, and Sulu grinned wide while Scotty laughed outright.
"Order!" Cartwright shouted angrily "Admiral, your past deeds have no bearing on the outcome of this trial. You have yet to submit a reasonable defense."
"I haven't one." Jim shrugged "I can only say my piece and let the chips fall where they may." The assembly did quiet now, avid "The fact is that rules are made in response to things that have already happened. In broad terms, some of them can be applied to new situations as well. However," he gestured to the crowd
"I'm sure everyone here who has ever so much as served on a starship knows how often we run into things no one has ever come close to experiencing. Things the rules are difficult, if Impossible, to impose upon. Things we have to write new ones for. That is the kind of situation that led us here today. And maybe I'm old-school, but I think those situations, that broadening of our horizons - I think it's a sign of progress. Of evolution. And that is a damn good thing. Your honor."
Jim walked back to his seat with the crew and sat.
"Oh, I'm done. The defense rests."
As expected, the room erupted into chaos before Cartwright could get a word in edgewise. Sulu asked him once how he did it and Jim had told him he'd like to know too - it was like the brass lived in soundless glass boxes most of the time, the way they lost their minds at a little outside thinking.
Eventually Cartwright almost broke his gavel on the podium to get it quiet enough to shout.
"A verdict will be given after the court reconvenes!"
Which was just ridiculous because the only new piece of information to consider was a speech he'd pulled straight out of his ass and an outright confession, but his crew was cheering, happier than he'd seen them in months, and that was enough.
And hey, they didn't even confine him to quarters for the ride home. Not that he would have minded if they had - he had a Christmas to plan.
"What," Jane had asked the day after the masquerade ball "is Christmas?"
And the earth had shaken, the air had split, and the sun had eaten itself as the universe blinked out of existence.
Okay, maybe it had stopped a bit shy of all that, but you wouldn't have known it to talk to Jim. It wasn't even that Spock was teaching her something minimalist and just neglected to mention other holidays. No, Jane was unaware festivities took place in wintery months (or in their case, the balmy monotony of December under the weather regulators). And it wasn't that Jim was particularly religious - his roots were Jewish, but he'd been agnostic at best most of his life and somewhere in the course of the 22 century "Christmas" had morphed into a generalized tradition that fell on the 23rd of December, but since they were two days into Hanukkah when the subject came up Jim went straight for the opportunity for a blow-out.
This tragedy would not be allowed to stand. (Leonard had a feeling that if anyone asked Spock, the reason behind Jane's ignorance would be sufficiently heartbreaking to send Jim on such a tear that the universe really would collapse, so Leonard consciously avoided doing so.)
Apparently Jim had been entertaining ideas about the holidays for months anyway, which was terrifying because Leonard had seen what he could do with twenty minutes of thought enough times to be honestly terrified by anything over an hours' worth.
So that arboretum that he was finally satisfied with? Was put in just so they'd have snow on Christmas. Leonard was only mildly surprised at the amount of trouble he'd gone through for it, and even that bit evaporated completely when he mentioned snow in general - since the arboretum was a secret - to Spock and found out he'd never seen it.
Leonard got the green-light on Christmas Eve, and even he was impressed at what Jim had ordered up.
The four-story glass dome housed a towering pine tree decked from top to bottom in a rainbow of lights, the majority of it covered in ornaments already, and all getting steadily buried by a light snow the environmental controls in the room were cooking up. There was a little box with the rest of the ornaments there, and if Jim hadn't promised to tell Spock by New Years he'd have dragged the bastard down to help them decorate the reachable parts of the tree. It was about the sweetest scene he'd been present for, both Jane and Spock bewildered by the little white flakes and human traditions, and it was the day before Christmas. Janice and Christine joined them, the only remaining staff since Jim sent anyone who'd go home, and Jane was so wonder-struck already he thought she'd be happy even if that was all they got.
It wasn't even close, because Jim was a bleeding-hearted softy (but hell if Leonard wasn't starting to see why he got all the girls, and guys, and every other gender imaginable).
Christmas morning came as rather more an extension of Christmas Eve. The humans slept, but they had hit Spock on the second day of his three-day schedule and hyped Jane up so badly that she didn't get a second of her standard three hours. Ms. Rand cooked breakfast for them in the absence of the chef, something earthy that Spock couldn't identify, and they ate in the lounge attached to the arboretum while Chapel introduced Jane to the concept of giant socks full of candy by fireplaces.
Then Rand said "Were those boxes there last night?" with an air of innocence that was wholly fake, gesturing to the tree.
Leonard stretched like a particularly satisfied cat as they made their way out to investigate. He leaned over when they're bringing the gifts in and told Spock:
"Only reason he didn't buy the whole town for you two is because I told him not to bury her."
Rand opened hers first in demonstration, something which would apparently assist with her gravity-defying hairstyles (quite literally, Spock suspected, given the way it glowed) and everyone else followed suit. Spock himself was surprised to have two of his own. He held off to watch Jane. The first few were simple enough - a stack of hard-cover adventure novels which all of them had to clarify were, in fact, hers. Leonard did the best Job by eventually stating "you can burn 'em or draw in 'em or be like the Admiral and hide them in a little box so you can look at them twice a year, whatever you want."
Then there was a fully-functional hovering model of a constitution-class ship, which fascinated her so much that she almost missed the last gift in the stack, a tiny thing compared to the rest. When she did open it, already at a loss from the day, she held up a pendant of unknown origins. Spock didn't recognize it - it was relatively small and roughly discus, and looked somewhat like an IDIC pendant, but it had the Starfleet insignia on it as well and a few dark patches that were suspiciously reminiscent of charring. Whatever it might have been, there was a chain wrapped through it just right so it would settle nicely as a necklace.
"What is it?" Jane asked, studying it.
"Alright, move aside." Leonard said, some grim determination in his eyes as he stood "This is me."
"Doctor." Chapel said with laughter in her voice "I'm sure he won't mind if we just go upstairs for a few minutes."
"Oh no, the Admiral drilled me on how to do this for hours and by god, I'm going to do it." Leonard snapped, settling on the floor beside Jane.
"This." he said, so focused that even Spock sat back to watch his performance. "Is the most important piece of a starship. It regulates the antimatter reaction so that we can go to warp and see the stars, and it keeps us from blowing up while it does. This one in particular is from the Admiral's ship. He took it when they decommissioned it. This piece is built so strong that even though we replaced the entire engine around it, it was with us on every mission, through every crazy takeover and first contact, from minting to deconstruction, giving us strength and keeping us safe. He wanted you to have it so that it could do the same for you, wherever you go."
He took it from her stunned hands and clipped it around her neck. She picked it up again instantly, staring at it in wonder.
"Can we go see him?"
Leonard frowned just enough for everyone to know he would have liked nothing more than to have the man hog-tied and made to join them, but said "I'm sure we'll see him later."
Spock himself suddenly felt out of his depth. That was not the kind of gift given to a child who should, to the Admiral, be nothing more than property. He felt himself starting to slip, a curious sensation of the believing and hope that had been building in his mind for months gaining enough traction to affect his judgement. It was suspiciously like falling, and it was familiar even more so.
"Spock, aren't you going to open yours?"
Spock started from his thoughts and looked at the two neatly-wrapped gifts on the sofa beside him. Unlike the bright paper Jane's gifts had been wrapped in, these were papered with simple silver and bound by red ribbon. He reached for the smaller of the two, a bit desperate for a distraction.
That was not even close to what was inside the package. Spock sliced the tape cleanly, not tearing the paper at all, and removed the cover of the mostly flat, square, red box he found inside.
For half a second, Leonard was sure Jim had given himself away. Then Spock's eyebrows crashed downward, clearly baffled.
"What...is this?" he asked quietly.
"Beats me," Leonard replied, waving at Jane's necklace "I was only coached on that one."
With reverent care, Spock lifted a sheaf of papers out of the wrapping on his lap. After a long moment where no one said anything, Jane's curiosity got the best of her. She wandered over and peaked down at what had so captivated her father's attention.
"Music?"
"For the song I played. Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini."
"Oh?" Chapel asked, and Rand looked too pleased beside her to not have had a hand in locating whatever it was.
"Sheet music?" Leonard asked "Do you even need that? I figured a vulcan would just memorize the notes."
"I do not need it, doctor." Spock replied softly "Which is, I believe, what makes it a sublime gift."
"It's hard to read." Jane noted.
"Because it is in Rachmaninoff's handwriting."
"Oh." Chapel and Leonard said together, quietly.
After a moment and very carefully, Spock set the papers back in the box and closed the lid, wrapping the ribbon around it to ensure it stayed safely closed.
Leonard had the feeling that if he pushed right then he'd get an emotional reaction for the history books, but it was Christmas, so he didn't even try.
With a breath, Spock eyed his other gift like a bomb someone had told him was 'mostly' disarmed, but also packed with logic and the answers to the universe.
He picked it up the same way and broke the seal just as quickly as he had the first time.
"A harp?" Chapel asked lightly.
If Leonard squinted, he'd have called what Spock was doing with his face smiling.
"A lyre. It is a vulcan instrument, very difficult to master. I believe the sound is somewhat reminiscent of a guitar mixed with a harp."
"Can you play, Spock?" Rand asked.
"I can."
"A guitar." Leonard scoffed "Don't tell me you were a rebellious teen, Spock."
Rather than answer, Spock turned the instrument and began to play.
"Oh, that's lovely." Chapel said, smiling "It's too bad Nyota isn't here, she'd enjoy it."
Spock played the soundtrack of the morning, keeping them entertained while Jane moved back to her little pile of books, and everyone seemed content to sit in each other's company and listen for a long while, until, eventually, they were interrupted by the chiming of Leonard's watch.
"Is it that time already?" Chapel asked, glancing at him.
"Yup. Eight o'clock in San Fran."
"Oh!" Ms. Rand climbed to her feet, stretching "Then I guess we'd better get going!"
"You're leaving?" Jane asked, thoroughly disquieted by movement in her tranquil existence that morning.
"Just for a bit. I've got a daughter of my own to wish a merry Christmas." he turned to look at her "Why don't you head outside for a while? There's lots of fun to be had in snow that perfect."
Jane looked outside at this, ideas sparking in her eyes, and Spock set aside his lyre. Jane had set her coat, gloves and boots by the fireplace the night before and slung them back on excitedly. Spock picked up his own and slid them on. Jane had an advantage over him in the cold weather, he had deduced, since the chill hadn't stiffened her fingers nearly as much as it had his as they hung the ornaments.
Chapel and Rand bid temporary adieus before leaving, but just as Jane moved the sliding glass doors aside Leonard said "hold up."
Jane and Spock turned to him, Jane just in time to have a knitted hat shoved unceremoniously onto her head.
"Hey!" she protested.
"Those pointy ears of yours just beg for frostbite." he said by way of explanation.
Spock raised an eyebrow "You knit, doctor?"
"Maybe." he replied, fixing the hat on Jane's head.
Jane looked up and, muffled by the collar of her coat, said something that sounded like "Thanks, Bones!"
The words came with a niggling feeling at the edges of his brain, but before he had the chance to inspect it something had been shoved over his own head.
"You too. If those eyebrows of yours freeze solid we'll never know the extent of your disappointment in humanity again."
Spock hiked said eyebrows higher under the warm woolen hat, reaching up to surreptitiously repair the damage done to his hair. "On the contrary, doctor, I would simply have to take more care to express it verbally."
Leonard scoffed and left to make his call.
At some point in the night a frozen-over pond had been cleared off, and Jane spent the better part of the next few hours investigating the complete lack of friction on its surface quite thoroughly. Every so often he would look up from his most recent novel, settled as he was on a wooden bench, to see a puff of snow when she fell into the piles around the pond or a new, vaguely humanoid construction by the tree.
Rand returned first, walking in with a carrot and top hat which 'were necessary for any snowman,' followed eventually by Leonard who gave his stamp of approval to the creature.
"Chapel got a surprise visitor, so she'll be out the rest of the day." Leonard informed Spock, smiling, completely unaware of Rand watching them with a predatory gleam in her eyes and snow in her hand. Jane was at her side, watching intently, and Rand instructed her to observe her form. She had a look rather like a raptor teaching her young to hunt. Spock was privy to all this and simply moved out of the way when she let to snow sphere fly.
Leonard was not so lucky.
"Ahg!" he shouted as the snow exploded over the back of his head, scattering into the collar of his jacket like little daggers of cold. He whipped around to see Rand grinning triumphantly and Jane clapping at her side.
"You menace! Attack an old man, will you!?" Spock arched one brow as he began gathering snow from the ground "Well, I'm about to show you how it's done!"
Spock had seen this behavior once in a documentary about humanity's illogical preoccupations, a so-called 'snowball fight.' It was as chaotic and inefficient as they said, and thus Jane's vulcan heritage allowed her to dominate the field quite spectacularly. Spock returned to his novel over the shouting voices and scuffling feet.
Jim laughed to himself as he watched from the third story deck as Jane, Rand and Bones pelted each other with snow. He really did wish he was down there with them (because someone needed to teach Jane how to throw a curve ball, and the seat next to Spock looked inviting) but - not yet. He was onto something, that piece of the puzzle mapped and waiting to click into place and clear up the image. Just a few more days. Smiling, he reached through the containment field to the lip of the overhang over the hallway and collected enough snow to form a decently large ball. He was a ways away, but Bones wasn't exactly fast. He took aim and threw just as they ran beside the bench.
And missed.
Spock jolted as the snowball hit the side of his head in a spectacular burst, and Jim heard the little sound effect 'fwump' rise up to add to it.
Very, very slowly, Spock reached up and wiped the snow away. Then he stood.
"Now, wait just a minute" Leonard reasoned "It was Janice."
"It was not, you traitor!"
Jim looked around and found that Jane had spun on her heel to stare up at him. He put a finger to his lips again, ducking slightly.
A shriek rose as Spock let loose on the two adults, sending them scattering. Jane ignored them in favor of not shushing this time.
"Admiral!" she shouted, hands cupped around her mouth "Thank you! I'll never take it off!"
Jim cursed and dropped behind the low wall between him and them quickly, but couldn't keep the smile off his face.
The humans, as expected, stood no chance against the greater might and tactical ability of an adult vulcan. But, since he was vulcan, Spock took no satisfaction in this. He believed they were about to quit when both ran straight for Jane and took shelter behind her.
"Jane, save us!" Leonard laughed, his hair clumped with snow from so long being pelted by it.
"He's a tyrant!" Rand bemoaned, swooning.
Spock came to a stop before them.
"Jane." he addressed.
"Father." she replied.
Rand hummed something off the soundtrack to a western in the stare-down that followed.
"As I have considerable strength and height advantages, your only logical choice is to stand down."
Jane folded her hands behind her back.
"You forget to account for my greater agility and ingenuity of youth."
"Did she just call him old?" Rand whispered, biting back a smile.
Spock narrowed his eyes.
"Very well."
And they were off, streaking across the arboretum ground with snow flying in flurries around them. Jane shouted with Joy, darting in zigzagging, pointless paths that made her difficult to hit, circling the tree and leaping onto the ice.
Spock followed without a thought, confident in his ability to balance on it.
He did not, however, know to account for the depth of the snowbanks around it. His foot came down where hers had and kept going, well past his knee, and only then hit more ice that was hidden beneath. There was no correcting by that point. Spock acknowledged that the puff of snow around his head as he hit the bank looked rather beautiful.
Jane appeared on the edge of his vision.
"You're heavier than me, father." Jane informed him with a wide grin.
Somewhere behind them, Leonard and Rand were laughing uproariously.
Spock lay in the snow and conceded defeat.
"Indeed." he said "however, suppose our weight was combined."
Jane frowned in the face of his riddle, suitably distracted so he could pull her down into the light snow with him.
She shrieked and flailed about, which only made the snow cling more, especially when Spock helped it along. Leonard came to stand over them, eyebrows raised in a mockery of Spock's look.
"Feeling a little spiteful there, Spock?" he asked.
Spock looked him dead in the eye "According to the Klingons, revenge is a dish best served cold."
"Did you just make a pun."
Jane sneezed and Spock let her up finally.
"Oh my god. You turned her into a snowman."
Jane giggled and Spock pulled himself out of the snowbank with as much dignity as his heritage allowed.
"At least there're two of you." Leonard said, then "I'd say that's our cue to head inside. I'm betting Spock here is about to lose three fingers and at least five toes to the cold."
"Here's another tradition for you." Leonard announced after they had made their way inside and changed into warm, dry clothing. He came in carrying a tray of mugs overflowing with whipped cream and set it on the table "Hot chocolate after freezing your ears off in the snow."
Spock frowned slightly at the tray as Leonard made to hand Jane a mug.
"Doctor-"
"Relax, Spock, hers is white chocolate. Perfectly non-alcoholic to vulcan systems."
Content with the concession, Spock picked up his own mug. The heady taste of cocoa hit his tongue and he looked at Leonard accusingly.
"Did I not specifically say that hers was white chocolate?" he asked Rand "At least I left out the Baileys from that one."
The sun was beginning to set, casting the snow outside in streaks of orange and a shimmering grey-lavender color. With a sigh, Spock took another sip. It was delightfully warm after being in the cold for so long (Leonard had insisted on regening the light frostbite on his hands, but the chill had clung a bit to him just the same).
He was feeling languid from the day, relaxed, and Rand and Leonard appeared to feel the same, given the way they sprawled on the couch across from him and Jane, chatting about whatever came to mind. Spock joined in eventually, Jane back to her books and wilting slightly as the night wore on.
Just after the sun set he noticed a whisper of a presence his dulled perceptions had been glossing over: the Admiral was in the hallway, listening. Covertly, he stood from the couch and walked to lean against the wall by the door, looking down at the new drink Leonard had whipped up for him to try as he spoke.
"I do not know your motives, Admiral." Spock said quietly, noting the sharp intake of breath from the hall "but I believe thanks are in order. I will leave you to reveal yourself in your own time."
The silence was not unexpected, but he would have been lying if he said he wasn't disappointed.
"Spock!" Leonard slurred "is J-"
Rand slapped a hand over the doctor's mouth.
"The Admiral" She said, giggling.
"The Admiral" Leonard corrected mockingly "out there?"
"I am merely expressing my astonishment that this 'eggnog' is considered a suitable beverage." Spock relied, pushing off the wall.
"To yerself?" Leonard's drawl had taken on a twang as the night had progressed, though he hardly seemed to have noticed it himself "That hot chocolate really did go to your head, huh?"
"No."
Leonard watched him lazily as he walked back to the couch.
"'No'? That's it?"
"No, sir." Spock added, more sarcastically than he had intended.
An instant later one of the couch cushions hit flat against his face with a faint thwumping sound. It flopped down over his hands just as suddenly, leaving Spock to blink surprise dust motes from his eyes and stare at it accusingly.
"I have noticed you have a proclivity for throwing things today, doctor. Is that a part of the traditional festivities or are you simply beginning to accept your neanderthalic nature?"
"No." Leonard replied smartly, taking a drink of his eggnog.
"I did not ask a yes or no question."
"Don't care, chatty Kathy. I can admit it when I'm too drunk for your shit."
"Leonard!" Rand scolded.
"What? I said drunk!"
Jane giggled by his side, then looked at him "Are you drunk, father?"
Spock, having abandoned his eggnog in favor of better things, sipped his second mug of hot chocolate.
"It is not outside the realm of possibility."
Leonard and Rand laughed.
Someone was shutting the lights off around them. Spock was embarrassed to realize that the so-called 'hot chocolate' had indeed gotten him rather drunk, which was why it took several seconds for him to realize that he was looking at Leonard and Rand asleep on the sofa across from him and Jane was nestled against his side, so, as Chapel had opted to stay with her friend, there was only one person who could be doing this. He was sorely tempted to look, but he had just made the declaration that he would wait. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes again.
"Hey there Captain idiot." Leonard slurred so much it came out less like words and more like garbled Klingon.
"Shhh." someone instructed over the rustle of fabric.
"Shoulda' been here, you know." Leonard continued, trailing off on the end like he'd fallen back to sleep.
The footsteps started up again, but came to a stop once more beside the sofa Spock and Jane were occupying. He hovered for a moment, silent and motionless, as if caught in indecision.
Then, after a breath, a blanket settled over him and the light by his head was flicked off, casting them in darkness.