Peace on Earth
Title: Peace on Earth
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Length: 3064
Warnings: fluff and domestic fluff. You have been warned about the fluff.
Summary: Kirk and Spock spend the winter holidays together, failing at baking and reminiscing. For the K/S Advent Calendar 2009 ksadvent2009
“Jim, I believe the molasses is intended for the batter, not you.”
James Tiberius Kirk, the most awesome and fantastically good looking captain of the Enterprise (at least, that was how he deemed himself), scowled at the Vulcan not quite grinning, but quickly losing the fight against the faint twitches at the corner of his mouth.
“Shut it, Spock,” Jim growled out as he attempted to figure out how the horrifically sticky substance was predominately all over the place except the bowl of batter, “Why the hell are we making gingerbread again?”
Carefully mixing the ingredients in the bowl, quite cleanly too, Spock shrugged with a single arched eyebrow.
“If my memory serves me correctly, you insisted we are not to bake standard chocolate chip cookies or any other chocolate related item,” Spock answered calmly.
Jim huffed, either because he knew Spock was right or he now had molasses on his face and in his hair.
“You know damn well your memory serves you correctly…smug bastard,” mumbled Jim.
He remembered that incident really well too. It was the first time he had seen Spock drunk. Everybody at last year’s winter holiday shore leave also remembered it quite well, much to Spock’s chagrin. However amused Jim was with it as well, it was also the first time he had allowed himself to feel so deeply for someone. Too many times he had reached out when he was younger and been burned for his efforts. On top of being a captain with shoulder crushing responsibility, the entirety of it all made one night stands and short relationship commitments the easiest route. But, with luck only he seemed to possess, a drunken Spock was a little looser with his words, or rather, his touch. Jim knew all too well the depressive quality to alcohol and he also knew that Spock had to go through is first Christmas without his mother.
When they had been returning to the hotel they were staying at, Spock explained that it was one of the few Terran traditions his mother was allowed to celebrate and that, even though he could never admit it as a child growing up, he had found that tradition his favorite. For one day out the Vulcan year, he was allowed to feel his mother’s love and not feel like he needed to prove himself to his father. It did not matter that Spock did not believe in the deeper aspects Christmas held with humans. All that had mattered to him was that he was granted one day to enjoy his family. When Vulcan collapsed, so did the one person who let him feel he had a family. Then, that first shore leave, he was unable to be with his father and had allowed himself to find a way to get drunk with the rest of the crew away from their families as well.
Sure, Jim had missed his family, but they were scattered across the galaxy and he was not particularly close to any of them. So he and McCoy, who had been unable to see his daughter and had been understandably quite bitter, had aided Spock in discovering a means to get drunk with all of them. Three mudslides later and several bowls of chocolate dipped nuts, Spock had been swaying slightly in his seat and rattling off probabilities for everything he happened to hear, and his hearing was especially good. At some point, Kirk had wondered if Spock just made numbers up and assumed nobody had the time or patience to check it. By that point, McCoy had been just as drunk, ironically leaving Kirk the near sober one.
Uhura and Scotty had assured Kirk that McCoy would be fine in their care, leaving Kirk to try and drag Spock back to the hotel. While a part of him had been extremely curious as to what would happen if he had allowed Spock to remain at the bar, the greater part of Kirk’s mind had been focused on how Spock would react as he sobered up. When they had managed to maneuver to the nearby hotel and enter Spock’s room, Kirk had tried to convince Spock to go to bed. It had been an admirable effort, but with less coordination, mainly on Spock’s part, Kirk had wound up stumbling onto the bed alongside Spock who had mumbled an apology mixed with a probability that such an event would occur. Kirk had every intention of getting up, but the light tug on his sleeve had kept him sprawled on the bed.
He had looked over to see Spock already asleep, his hand lightly holding the material of Kirk’s jacket. It would have been easy enough to pull free, but the feeling of somebody wanting him close by was too tempting a pull and he had decided this one night was worth however Spock chose to respond to his presence. With a lot of flopping around and attempting to find a comfortable position without disturbing Spock, Kirk had finally found a resting place and settled in for the night.
When morning had arrived, Kirk found the sunlight filtering through the window to be particularly annoying. A slight shift next to him had caused Kirk to jerk awake, memories of last night hitting him full force. He had been tense, fight-or-flight instinct raging. But instead of an angry or perturbed Vulcan, he had found Spock calmly sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed watching him. It had still been disconcerting, but it was one of the best reactions he could have had. They had sat in total silence for a few ticks of the old fashioned chronometer mounted on the wall before Spock had asked why Kirk stayed with him. At first, Kirk had wanted to find some sort of excuse, an escape, such as he was too drunk to get to his room, or he felt bad that Spock had grabbed onto his sleeve. However, he had known exactly why he had stayed. He also had known that lying was not conducive to their working or personal relationship. So, he had told him the truth.
As with all things Spock did, he had moved slowly and deliberately until he was sitting side by side with Kirk.
“Do you trust me?” Spock had asked.
Kirk had not hesitated. He had turned his head slightly and did not flinch when Spock’s hand rose to settle on the meld points on his face.
Our minds, one and the same.
Suddenly, Kirk had been inundated with a wave of feelings, never staying put and always drifting across his mind. They had not been his, but they had reflected his own well enough. There had been uncertainty, some fear, a hell of a lot of curiosity, sadness, and an overwhelming loneliness. Then, out of nowhere, he had begun to see impressions of the night before and all those feelings tied to them. Loneliness had still been dominant, but there was a trickle of something else, something like hope. But more than loneliness or even hope, there had been security, and most importantly, contentment. It had felt right and it was something he never wanted to lose.
Just as quickly as it had come, the feelings were gone and Kirk was once again left alone with his mind. Spock had stared at him intently, dark eyes searching for something. Kirk had then realized Spock had made no move to sense any of his feelings. Understanding what Spock had just offered him, Kirk broke out into a small grin.
“Right back at ya, Spock,” Kirk had answered and then extended his hand, “So I never took you as a gambling type.”
Spock had tentatively placed his hand on top of Kirk’s and appeared to relax at the contact.
“To do what I felt was right called for an act of faith,” Spock had responded, a hint of green tinge along the bridge of his nose.
“Well I’m glad you did. So what do we do now?” Kirk had asked with a lop-sided grin.
“I for one am going to break fast.”
Kirk had watched Spock gracefully swing his legs off the side of the bed and stand up with one fluid motion. Before he could walk away though, Kirk had reached out and forcefully tugged on the back of Spock’s shirt causing the Vulcan to fall backwards onto the bed.
“I’ll order us some room service and then we can talk more about, well, this.” Kirk had motioned to the bed in a sweeping gesture.
“A profoundly logical action,” Spock had acquiesced quietly.
“Smartass.”
They had taken it slow, spending even more time together over the course of shore leave, so that by the time they had to beam aboard the Enterprise again, every crew member had noticed a difference. Nobody would have been able to say what it was, but there was unmistakably something new and deeper between them. McCoy had been the first person Kirk told while Spock had informed Uhura. They had been unsure of what could happen or how a relationship between Kirk and Spock could even work, but they had been willing to stay by their side and support them. Even they could not deny something had changed.
Within the next year, more and more crewmembers had become aware of the personal relationship between the captain and the first officer. Kirk and Spock had also become more aware of their relationship and all the details it entailed. As the days had progressed, mission crises averted, and a handful of near death experiences, they had learned that they had old responsibilities on top of the new. It had been stressful, but unlike any other relationship either had been in, their bond had remained in tact and grown even stronger.
In an amount of time surprising to the elder Spock, Kirk and Spock were well on their way to a friendship that would define them both. As another two years had passed, they had reaffirmed their bond time and time again until it seemed unnatural to not be by each other’s sides. Through thick and thin, they had stuck together like the molasses currently sticking his hand to the spoon.
“Spock, get this shit off me right now,” Kirk ordered, memories fading quickly to the back of his mind. “And don’t you dare say a-“
He was cut off when he suddenly felt Spock lick a smear of molasses off the side of his face.
“Jim, you are a mess,” Spock stated, but held his hand up to stop Kirk from moving, “You will walk carefully to the bathroom and clean up without making a mess.”
A few mumbled curses later, Kirk managed to pry the spoon off his hand and sloppily placed it in Spock’s hand. He sauntered off to the bathroom leaving Spock behind to glare at his retreating back. By the time he finally managed to clean the molasses off himself, which took far longer than he thought it should, Spock had already begun baking the gingerbread cookies and was idly rubbing a stray stain of molasses off the counter.
“I am impressed the recipe was completed considering a vast volume did not make it to the batter,” Spock told him as he continued to fail at removing the splotch.
Kirk shrugged with a lazy grin and sidled up next to Spock. As he began nuzzling the crook of Spock’s neck, Spock continued to rub at the spot, but with much less concentration.
“Hey, the cookies got made, didn’t they? All we have to do is deliver them,” mumbled Kirk.
“Indeed…though what is the temperature outside?” Spock could not help but ask even as he forgot about the molasses.
Placing a light trail of kisses up the side of Spock’s neck, Kirk paused a moment to look out the window. Small dots of white drifted lazily from the sky, some even clinging to the window.
“I’m going to go with…it’s cold,” Kirk answered before resuming his kisses.
A dissatisfied noise came from Spock when he heard the word, “cold,” so Kirk lightly bit the lobe of his ear, sliding his tongue along the skin. Spock made a much more satisfied noise then. However, they were interrupted by the sound of the oven timer going off. Kirk rolled his eyes and took the offered towel while Spock moved to get the cookies out of the oven.
The cookies really did smell good, so he figured the molasses was worth the effort as he finally managed to clean the counter. He was going to declare his success to Spock, but when he turned around, he noticed Spock was staring intensely at the cookie sheet resting on the counter. Kirk was about to ask what he was doing, but became distracted when he noticed Spock holding his hand close to his chest.
“What the hell did you just do?” Kirk asked as he stomped over to Spock, “Did you just burn yourself?”
“Yes,” Spock answered reluctantly, “It is not severe, only discomforting.”
Kirk rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, that sounds reassuring,” he quipped.
He grabbed Spock’s hand and examined it gently. An angry greenish mark stood out against the pale skin of his hand. From what Kirk could tell, it was not too serious, but it already burned the first few layers of skin.
“Let’s put something on it, and then you let me get the cookies off the tray,” Kirk said as he led Spock to the restroom.
The irritation Spock felt from being led around like a child leaked through his controls, allowing Kirk to catch some of it. He grinned.
“Bone’s is going to be paranoid about leaving us now that you of all people burned yourself on an oven,” commented Kirk.
“Doctor McCoy does not need to know,” Spock quickly said.
“Oh, I think he does need to know,” Kirk replied with his usual grin in place.
He dug around in the medi-kit McCoy prepared just for them until he found the dermal regenerator and applied it to Spock’s hand. After he finished, with what he thought was the correct amount of time, Kirk applied a salve to help the still irritated skin before wrapping it with a bandage.
“There. I don’t think Bone’s can argue against my mad medical skills,” Kirk stated happily as he observed his handiwork.
Spock was most definitely not in total agreement with Kirk. His hand was practically twice as large now with the sloppy bandage.
“I do not believe my hand requires the full roll of bandage, Jim,” Spock observed.
“Shut up and let’s pack these cookies,” Kirk said as he brushed off Spock’s comment.
Thankfully, the cookie packaging went far smoother, with less mess and less burns. They were packaged in small holiday tins, which Spock had picked out and neatly packed with baking tissue in the most logical manner. Kirk just dumped cookies into whatever tin was closest, relying on Spock to arrange them in the most orderly way possible. And when they were arranged to Spock’s approval, Kirk happily sealed the tins and placed them to the side.
“Alright, now that we’re done with that, what do you wanna do now?” Kirk asked.
Spock suppressed the instinctual twitch to redo the bandages on his hand and forced his concentration on Kirk.
“I would not be opposed to simply doing nothing.”
Spock’s answer caused a pleased smile to grace Kirk’s features.
“Sounds good to me,” agreed Kirk.
They made a pot of tea with a few extra gingerbread cookies and hunkered down on their single couch. Kirk grabbed the heavy blanket draped over the back of the couch and flung it over Spock. It took an inordinate amount of time to get everything organized and in the proper order, but when they were finally ready; Kirk and Spock just relaxed into each other’s presence.
The couch they sat on faced the large bay window where the outside scenery could be seen. Snow continued to fall. Kirk and Spock watched it, sipping tea and enjoying the crisp coolness of it while remaining warm. They idly discussed snowflakes, yellow snow, why reindeers cannot have glowing red noses, and anything else that came to mind. Hours passed by, enjoying the quiet contentment of each other, Spock not even bothering to keep track. When the dull light of day gradually drifted into a darker haze, Kirk shifted his weight, his leg suffering from numb tingling. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. At some point, he had fallen asleep, as did his leg. As he began stretching the sore limb out, he glanced to his side to see what Spock was up to.
In what Kirk would call a rare case, Spock was actually napping. His usual perfect posture was relaxed and he was slouching into Kirk’s side. With carefully gentle movements, Kirk held Spock’s uninjured hand lightly in his. He took a deep breath and focused inwardly. Usually, Spock kept most of his emotions at bay through their shared bond, but when he slept, his emotions tended to slip through and betray him. Kirk took full advantage of this fact.
The emotions were light and fleeting, drifting without any direction. Kirk smiled despite himself. He felt the usual love and affection, but what captured his mind was the overwhelming sense of peace. It was a peace few could ever achieve and Spock of all the people in the universe achieved it because of Kirk. This fact alone made Kirk fall in love all over again. Spock needed him just as he needed Spock. No troubles or worries or loneliness plagued his mind, only a content peace. He focused on it, willing Spock to know he was loved. Then he felt Spock stir in his sleep.
“T’hy’la,” Spock suddenly mumbled blearily.
Kirk smiled and stroked his thumb along the back of Spock’s hand. This caused Spock to still and sigh ever so softly before drifting off to a deeper sleep again. Well, that was okay with Kirk. They had nowhere they needed to be tomorrow and nothing requiring their attention. Maybe tomorrow he could convince Spock to play in the snow for a little bit. Maybe he could even convince Spock to do nothing again, because at this very moment, James Kirk and Spock were at perfect peace with the world and themselves.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Length: 3064
Warnings: fluff and domestic fluff. You have been warned about the fluff.
Summary: Kirk and Spock spend the winter holidays together, failing at baking and reminiscing. For the K/S Advent Calendar 2009 ksadvent2009
“Jim, I believe the molasses is intended for the batter, not you.”
James Tiberius Kirk, the most awesome and fantastically good looking captain of the Enterprise (at least, that was how he deemed himself), scowled at the Vulcan not quite grinning, but quickly losing the fight against the faint twitches at the corner of his mouth.
“Shut it, Spock,” Jim growled out as he attempted to figure out how the horrifically sticky substance was predominately all over the place except the bowl of batter, “Why the hell are we making gingerbread again?”
Carefully mixing the ingredients in the bowl, quite cleanly too, Spock shrugged with a single arched eyebrow.
“If my memory serves me correctly, you insisted we are not to bake standard chocolate chip cookies or any other chocolate related item,” Spock answered calmly.
Jim huffed, either because he knew Spock was right or he now had molasses on his face and in his hair.
“You know damn well your memory serves you correctly…smug bastard,” mumbled Jim.
He remembered that incident really well too. It was the first time he had seen Spock drunk. Everybody at last year’s winter holiday shore leave also remembered it quite well, much to Spock’s chagrin. However amused Jim was with it as well, it was also the first time he had allowed himself to feel so deeply for someone. Too many times he had reached out when he was younger and been burned for his efforts. On top of being a captain with shoulder crushing responsibility, the entirety of it all made one night stands and short relationship commitments the easiest route. But, with luck only he seemed to possess, a drunken Spock was a little looser with his words, or rather, his touch. Jim knew all too well the depressive quality to alcohol and he also knew that Spock had to go through is first Christmas without his mother.
When they had been returning to the hotel they were staying at, Spock explained that it was one of the few Terran traditions his mother was allowed to celebrate and that, even though he could never admit it as a child growing up, he had found that tradition his favorite. For one day out the Vulcan year, he was allowed to feel his mother’s love and not feel like he needed to prove himself to his father. It did not matter that Spock did not believe in the deeper aspects Christmas held with humans. All that had mattered to him was that he was granted one day to enjoy his family. When Vulcan collapsed, so did the one person who let him feel he had a family. Then, that first shore leave, he was unable to be with his father and had allowed himself to find a way to get drunk with the rest of the crew away from their families as well.
Sure, Jim had missed his family, but they were scattered across the galaxy and he was not particularly close to any of them. So he and McCoy, who had been unable to see his daughter and had been understandably quite bitter, had aided Spock in discovering a means to get drunk with all of them. Three mudslides later and several bowls of chocolate dipped nuts, Spock had been swaying slightly in his seat and rattling off probabilities for everything he happened to hear, and his hearing was especially good. At some point, Kirk had wondered if Spock just made numbers up and assumed nobody had the time or patience to check it. By that point, McCoy had been just as drunk, ironically leaving Kirk the near sober one.
Uhura and Scotty had assured Kirk that McCoy would be fine in their care, leaving Kirk to try and drag Spock back to the hotel. While a part of him had been extremely curious as to what would happen if he had allowed Spock to remain at the bar, the greater part of Kirk’s mind had been focused on how Spock would react as he sobered up. When they had managed to maneuver to the nearby hotel and enter Spock’s room, Kirk had tried to convince Spock to go to bed. It had been an admirable effort, but with less coordination, mainly on Spock’s part, Kirk had wound up stumbling onto the bed alongside Spock who had mumbled an apology mixed with a probability that such an event would occur. Kirk had every intention of getting up, but the light tug on his sleeve had kept him sprawled on the bed.
He had looked over to see Spock already asleep, his hand lightly holding the material of Kirk’s jacket. It would have been easy enough to pull free, but the feeling of somebody wanting him close by was too tempting a pull and he had decided this one night was worth however Spock chose to respond to his presence. With a lot of flopping around and attempting to find a comfortable position without disturbing Spock, Kirk had finally found a resting place and settled in for the night.
When morning had arrived, Kirk found the sunlight filtering through the window to be particularly annoying. A slight shift next to him had caused Kirk to jerk awake, memories of last night hitting him full force. He had been tense, fight-or-flight instinct raging. But instead of an angry or perturbed Vulcan, he had found Spock calmly sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed watching him. It had still been disconcerting, but it was one of the best reactions he could have had. They had sat in total silence for a few ticks of the old fashioned chronometer mounted on the wall before Spock had asked why Kirk stayed with him. At first, Kirk had wanted to find some sort of excuse, an escape, such as he was too drunk to get to his room, or he felt bad that Spock had grabbed onto his sleeve. However, he had known exactly why he had stayed. He also had known that lying was not conducive to their working or personal relationship. So, he had told him the truth.
As with all things Spock did, he had moved slowly and deliberately until he was sitting side by side with Kirk.
“Do you trust me?” Spock had asked.
Kirk had not hesitated. He had turned his head slightly and did not flinch when Spock’s hand rose to settle on the meld points on his face.
Our minds, one and the same.
Suddenly, Kirk had been inundated with a wave of feelings, never staying put and always drifting across his mind. They had not been his, but they had reflected his own well enough. There had been uncertainty, some fear, a hell of a lot of curiosity, sadness, and an overwhelming loneliness. Then, out of nowhere, he had begun to see impressions of the night before and all those feelings tied to them. Loneliness had still been dominant, but there was a trickle of something else, something like hope. But more than loneliness or even hope, there had been security, and most importantly, contentment. It had felt right and it was something he never wanted to lose.
Just as quickly as it had come, the feelings were gone and Kirk was once again left alone with his mind. Spock had stared at him intently, dark eyes searching for something. Kirk had then realized Spock had made no move to sense any of his feelings. Understanding what Spock had just offered him, Kirk broke out into a small grin.
“Right back at ya, Spock,” Kirk had answered and then extended his hand, “So I never took you as a gambling type.”
Spock had tentatively placed his hand on top of Kirk’s and appeared to relax at the contact.
“To do what I felt was right called for an act of faith,” Spock had responded, a hint of green tinge along the bridge of his nose.
“Well I’m glad you did. So what do we do now?” Kirk had asked with a lop-sided grin.
“I for one am going to break fast.”
Kirk had watched Spock gracefully swing his legs off the side of the bed and stand up with one fluid motion. Before he could walk away though, Kirk had reached out and forcefully tugged on the back of Spock’s shirt causing the Vulcan to fall backwards onto the bed.
“I’ll order us some room service and then we can talk more about, well, this.” Kirk had motioned to the bed in a sweeping gesture.
“A profoundly logical action,” Spock had acquiesced quietly.
“Smartass.”
They had taken it slow, spending even more time together over the course of shore leave, so that by the time they had to beam aboard the Enterprise again, every crew member had noticed a difference. Nobody would have been able to say what it was, but there was unmistakably something new and deeper between them. McCoy had been the first person Kirk told while Spock had informed Uhura. They had been unsure of what could happen or how a relationship between Kirk and Spock could even work, but they had been willing to stay by their side and support them. Even they could not deny something had changed.
Within the next year, more and more crewmembers had become aware of the personal relationship between the captain and the first officer. Kirk and Spock had also become more aware of their relationship and all the details it entailed. As the days had progressed, mission crises averted, and a handful of near death experiences, they had learned that they had old responsibilities on top of the new. It had been stressful, but unlike any other relationship either had been in, their bond had remained in tact and grown even stronger.
In an amount of time surprising to the elder Spock, Kirk and Spock were well on their way to a friendship that would define them both. As another two years had passed, they had reaffirmed their bond time and time again until it seemed unnatural to not be by each other’s sides. Through thick and thin, they had stuck together like the molasses currently sticking his hand to the spoon.
“Spock, get this shit off me right now,” Kirk ordered, memories fading quickly to the back of his mind. “And don’t you dare say a-“
He was cut off when he suddenly felt Spock lick a smear of molasses off the side of his face.
“Jim, you are a mess,” Spock stated, but held his hand up to stop Kirk from moving, “You will walk carefully to the bathroom and clean up without making a mess.”
A few mumbled curses later, Kirk managed to pry the spoon off his hand and sloppily placed it in Spock’s hand. He sauntered off to the bathroom leaving Spock behind to glare at his retreating back. By the time he finally managed to clean the molasses off himself, which took far longer than he thought it should, Spock had already begun baking the gingerbread cookies and was idly rubbing a stray stain of molasses off the counter.
“I am impressed the recipe was completed considering a vast volume did not make it to the batter,” Spock told him as he continued to fail at removing the splotch.
Kirk shrugged with a lazy grin and sidled up next to Spock. As he began nuzzling the crook of Spock’s neck, Spock continued to rub at the spot, but with much less concentration.
“Hey, the cookies got made, didn’t they? All we have to do is deliver them,” mumbled Kirk.
“Indeed…though what is the temperature outside?” Spock could not help but ask even as he forgot about the molasses.
Placing a light trail of kisses up the side of Spock’s neck, Kirk paused a moment to look out the window. Small dots of white drifted lazily from the sky, some even clinging to the window.
“I’m going to go with…it’s cold,” Kirk answered before resuming his kisses.
A dissatisfied noise came from Spock when he heard the word, “cold,” so Kirk lightly bit the lobe of his ear, sliding his tongue along the skin. Spock made a much more satisfied noise then. However, they were interrupted by the sound of the oven timer going off. Kirk rolled his eyes and took the offered towel while Spock moved to get the cookies out of the oven.
The cookies really did smell good, so he figured the molasses was worth the effort as he finally managed to clean the counter. He was going to declare his success to Spock, but when he turned around, he noticed Spock was staring intensely at the cookie sheet resting on the counter. Kirk was about to ask what he was doing, but became distracted when he noticed Spock holding his hand close to his chest.
“What the hell did you just do?” Kirk asked as he stomped over to Spock, “Did you just burn yourself?”
“Yes,” Spock answered reluctantly, “It is not severe, only discomforting.”
Kirk rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, that sounds reassuring,” he quipped.
He grabbed Spock’s hand and examined it gently. An angry greenish mark stood out against the pale skin of his hand. From what Kirk could tell, it was not too serious, but it already burned the first few layers of skin.
“Let’s put something on it, and then you let me get the cookies off the tray,” Kirk said as he led Spock to the restroom.
The irritation Spock felt from being led around like a child leaked through his controls, allowing Kirk to catch some of it. He grinned.
“Bone’s is going to be paranoid about leaving us now that you of all people burned yourself on an oven,” commented Kirk.
“Doctor McCoy does not need to know,” Spock quickly said.
“Oh, I think he does need to know,” Kirk replied with his usual grin in place.
He dug around in the medi-kit McCoy prepared just for them until he found the dermal regenerator and applied it to Spock’s hand. After he finished, with what he thought was the correct amount of time, Kirk applied a salve to help the still irritated skin before wrapping it with a bandage.
“There. I don’t think Bone’s can argue against my mad medical skills,” Kirk stated happily as he observed his handiwork.
Spock was most definitely not in total agreement with Kirk. His hand was practically twice as large now with the sloppy bandage.
“I do not believe my hand requires the full roll of bandage, Jim,” Spock observed.
“Shut up and let’s pack these cookies,” Kirk said as he brushed off Spock’s comment.
Thankfully, the cookie packaging went far smoother, with less mess and less burns. They were packaged in small holiday tins, which Spock had picked out and neatly packed with baking tissue in the most logical manner. Kirk just dumped cookies into whatever tin was closest, relying on Spock to arrange them in the most orderly way possible. And when they were arranged to Spock’s approval, Kirk happily sealed the tins and placed them to the side.
“Alright, now that we’re done with that, what do you wanna do now?” Kirk asked.
Spock suppressed the instinctual twitch to redo the bandages on his hand and forced his concentration on Kirk.
“I would not be opposed to simply doing nothing.”
Spock’s answer caused a pleased smile to grace Kirk’s features.
“Sounds good to me,” agreed Kirk.
They made a pot of tea with a few extra gingerbread cookies and hunkered down on their single couch. Kirk grabbed the heavy blanket draped over the back of the couch and flung it over Spock. It took an inordinate amount of time to get everything organized and in the proper order, but when they were finally ready; Kirk and Spock just relaxed into each other’s presence.
The couch they sat on faced the large bay window where the outside scenery could be seen. Snow continued to fall. Kirk and Spock watched it, sipping tea and enjoying the crisp coolness of it while remaining warm. They idly discussed snowflakes, yellow snow, why reindeers cannot have glowing red noses, and anything else that came to mind. Hours passed by, enjoying the quiet contentment of each other, Spock not even bothering to keep track. When the dull light of day gradually drifted into a darker haze, Kirk shifted his weight, his leg suffering from numb tingling. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. At some point, he had fallen asleep, as did his leg. As he began stretching the sore limb out, he glanced to his side to see what Spock was up to.
In what Kirk would call a rare case, Spock was actually napping. His usual perfect posture was relaxed and he was slouching into Kirk’s side. With carefully gentle movements, Kirk held Spock’s uninjured hand lightly in his. He took a deep breath and focused inwardly. Usually, Spock kept most of his emotions at bay through their shared bond, but when he slept, his emotions tended to slip through and betray him. Kirk took full advantage of this fact.
The emotions were light and fleeting, drifting without any direction. Kirk smiled despite himself. He felt the usual love and affection, but what captured his mind was the overwhelming sense of peace. It was a peace few could ever achieve and Spock of all the people in the universe achieved it because of Kirk. This fact alone made Kirk fall in love all over again. Spock needed him just as he needed Spock. No troubles or worries or loneliness plagued his mind, only a content peace. He focused on it, willing Spock to know he was loved. Then he felt Spock stir in his sleep.
“T’hy’la,” Spock suddenly mumbled blearily.
Kirk smiled and stroked his thumb along the back of Spock’s hand. This caused Spock to still and sigh ever so softly before drifting off to a deeper sleep again. Well, that was okay with Kirk. They had nowhere they needed to be tomorrow and nothing requiring their attention. Maybe tomorrow he could convince Spock to play in the snow for a little bit. Maybe he could even convince Spock to do nothing again, because at this very moment, James Kirk and Spock were at perfect peace with the world and themselves.