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"Curious," Spock said at dinner. "Has Yeoman Lin done something to merit social stigmatization?"
Jim dragged his eyes away from the yeoman in question, belatedly remembering that chewing ought to precede swallowing. He took a sip of the fizzy green stuff Chekov claimed to be genuine replicated Russian lime soda, and let his gaze drift back to Lin.
"Captain?"
"Hmm?"
"Captain. No less than thirty-four crew members, yourself among them, are currently exhibiting signs of mild hostility towards Yeoman Lin, including overt and protracted surveillance and cessation of all verbal communication in her presence. Has she given offense?"
Bones snorted. He was squinting at Lin with one eye, chin propped on his hand. "Nothing like that, Spock. We're just watching our cruise director for clues."
"Cruise director? Doctor, the Enterprise is not a leisure craft."
"Green-blooded-- our Xenosocial Integration and Cultural Functions Coordinator. Jesus wept. If you ever make me say that again--"
"Shush!" Jim held out a hand and Bones shushed at once and without argument, and leaned forward. On the far side of the mess hall, Yeoman Lin had risen, indifferent under the unwavering scrutiny of her crewmates, and was making her way to the coming events screen perched between the doors and the tray disposal. She had a stylus in one hand and a data card in the other.
"Booyah, holiday schedule!" Jim shouted, and the mess erupted into cheers and excited babble. He leapt up, scrabbling past ensigns and elbowing his way through a knot of engineers and nurses all vying for first dibs on the board. "Hey, captains first," he said to Chapel, and plucked the stylus out of her hand.
The coming events screen, previously meek with chess tournaments and Tellarite cooking classes, now lit up with an orgy of carefully planned non-denominational multi-cultural holiday cheer. Jim squinted at the range of activities that spanned thirty-seven religio-social traditions from fourteen different planets, and, confronted by dozens of conflicting events -- Christmas, Hanukkah, Thi-iri'ek, Gnolth, Kwanzaa, Reeurt -- and backed by an impatient crew, Jim shrugged and signed himself up for the lot. He was the captain. It was his duty.
Spock had remained seated, and was eating his salad, alone, in a methodical left-to-right manner when Jim sauntered back to their table. Bones was not long rejoining them either, since anyone with any sense knew he carried a spare hypo on him and got out of his way.
"You signed up for Gnolth?" Bones asked as he sat down. "Doesn't Gnolth call for binding of the antennae?" He reached across the table to poke Jim's forehead with a fork.
"Dunno, but sounds like there could be awesome food."
Spock quirked an eyebrow. "On the contrary, Captain. Most Andorian observances involve fasting."
"Damn. Ah well, I can fast for a few hours between the Orion harmony chant and the Secret Santa party."
"Is it customary for humans to socialize extensively during these holidays?" Spock asked. "I had understood them to consist mainly of private family celebrations."
Jim shrugged. "On the days themselves, I guess, if you have the family to celebrate with. The rest of the season's for sharing with friends and co-workers and wider social circles."
"I see." Spock eyed the events screen. The crowd was only growing as more people came to the mess, regardless of their shift. "Then I believe I shall commit my attendance." He paused. "Through the remote link."
"Aw, Spock, signing up in the mess is half the fun." Bones grinned.
"Then, as Vulcans do not have 'fun', I will give up my place in line to someone else." He stood, carrying his tray as he'd actually eaten his dinner. Jim waved him off and started eating faster; Spock would just have to start the quartermaster's review without him.
"Poor bastard," Bones said around a mouthful of chicken salad. "I noticed there aren't any Vulcan holidays posted."
"Vulcans have holidays?"
"If they do, they're probably not allowed to enjoy them."
"Good point." He chewed thoughtfully on his meatloaf-shaped food. Spock never complained about the human domination of the ship's culture. "Even if he doesn't celebrate the holidays, all of this has to be reminding him of Vulcan's loss. We should do something about that."
"He's already coming to the staff party. What more do you want?"
"Well, this is why we have a Xenosocial Integration and Cultural Functions--"
"Cruise director, Jim."
"This is why we have a Yeoman Lin. She'll tell us how to integrate Spock into the holidays. Or the holidays into Spock."
****
"Absolutely not," had been Lin's verdict. Then she'd subjected him to twenty minutes of lectures on Vulcan culture, followed by ten minutes on his ethical obligation to respect his crewmembers' diversity.
"Turns out Vulcans don't have holidays to celebrate peace and goodwill and all that because it's part of their daily meditations," Jim grumbled to Bones after he'd escaped Yeoman's Lin's tiny office and penetrating voice. "And next to that we look like a bunch of shallow ingrates with our once-a-year celebrations that are really about presents and eating too much."
"Jim, never compare yourself to a Vulcan. A saint would come out looking worse." Bones poured him some holiday cheer from his holiday stash. Jim couldn't see the difference between it and Bones' regular stash, except that he was a little faster to dispense the holiday stuff. "You'd never get Spock into the Christmas spirit anyway. Besides, I'd always pegged Spock as more of a Hanukkah sort of guy."
"Hanukkah, pfft."
"Sure. It has fire, imparting of knowledge, and the chance to mock humanity for our superstitious--"
"Forget Hanukkah. I was at the menorah-lighting today and I only got one gift," Jim grumbled. "I thought I was supposed to get eight."
"Not if you only show up for one night."
"I can't help it if Hanukkah overlaps with Reeurt." Jim brightened. "But I did win a bunch of chocolate off Ensign Kaczmarek with my awesome dreidel-spinning skills."
"Congratulations," Bones said dryly. "So, what's next on your mission to avoid work for the entire month of December?"
"Bones! I'm the captain. I can't attend some parties and not others. It's all or nothing, and it's certainly not going to be nothing." Jim consulted his holiday schedule, which he'd taken to carrying around with him. "Christmas concert in Rec Room B. Don't worry, I saw you overlooked that one so I signed you up for it yesterday. Come on, Scrooge."
"Humbug," Bones said, but he downed the rest of his drink and followed Jim out of sickbay.
Rec Room B had been decorated in the retro stylized fashion popular on some of Earth's colonies. Everything was bright and hard and shiny, and liberally decked with tinsel and glitter and the odd attempt at actual greenery. Half the off-duty crew had turned out, and Jim scowled as he spotted his first officer in the crowd, wearing a Santa hat of all things. He just bet someone, probably Scotty, had stuck it on his head, and if Yeoman Lin heard about it she was going to yell at Jim for violating Spock's cultural rights. Or something. Spock seemed perfectly happy wearing the hat. His eyebrows weren't twitching anyway. "Doesn't Spock know Vulcans don't celebrate anything?"
"Guess not," Bones said as Spock joined Uhura, Dobson, Riley and Yves on the stage. "Looks like he was serious about participating."
"And you said Spock didn't have any Christmas spirit."
Spock in fact looked as solemn as ever, in the midst of of his smiling and laughing crewmates, but the hat gave him the illusion of cheer. He seemed sure enough about his place in the group, and marshaled everyone to their instruments; Yves took up a guitar and Uhura and Riley had bells and a tambourine respectively. Jim quickly found a seat. He'd heard Spock play once before, back when he was still dating Uhura and she'd had the leverage to coax a public performance. This many months later, Jim had half convinced himself that some combination of his fascination with his first officer and Spock's all around competency at everything had warped his memory of the event. No one could be that good.
It took only a few notes for him to realize that a) his memory was fine, b) he had it really bad, and c) all of it was probably Spock's fault. Jim was sure no Vulcan lute had ever before had its strings graced with 'We Three Kings', but Spock's long fingers found the melody with a deft surety that left Jim imagining he'd been playing Christmas carols his whole life. The others joined in, but in Jim's head Spock was the only one on stage.
"My God," Bones said.
"I know," Jim said. "He's fantastic."
"Fantastic? That caterwauling? It must be making your ears bleed so much you can't hear it any more."
Jim blinked, realized that Riley was accompanying Uhura with the vocals, and then wished he could go back to hearing nothing but Spock's playing. He was pretty sure Uhura was awesome -- he couldn't imagine her failing at being awesome at anything -- but he could barely hear her over Riley.
"Bones... would it be against the holiday spirit to throw someone in the brig for being off key?"
"Probably, but damn."
"Not just off key but three sectors over from the key."
"Four days at warp six away from the key."
"Hell, I don't even think he and the key are in the same quadrant any more." Jim rubbed at the back of his head. "Still, Spock's pretty amazing."
It was kind of dark in Rec Room B, but Jim was pretty sure his CMO had just rolled his eyes at him.
After the performance, Jim headed straight for his communications officer. "Uhura--"
"Stuff it, Captain. It was him or Yves, and Yves makes Riley sound like a castrato."
Jim blinked, derailed. "Fine. You can make it up to me by getting Spock to play some other time."
"Really." Uhura's scowl flashed into a smirk. "You want me to convince him to give you a private performance?"
Jim lifted his chin. "As always, Mister Spock excels at everything he does," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster in the face of her knowing grin.
****
Disappointingly, the Orion harmony chant had not in fact been a euphemism for holiday orgy. Still, Jim left the celebration in a warm mood that lasted through an hour of having his eyes, rather than his non-existent antennae, bound for the Andorian observance of Gnolth. The Orions' party won, hands down.
"I love Orions," he said to Bones at the Secret Santa exchange. He had staked out a place at the refreshment table, even though his participation in the fasting had lasted only ninety minutes. "It was like a two-hour group hug. With singing. It was sweet."
"Pull the other one. It has bells."
"I'm serious! No one was even naked. Ask Uhura, she was there too." Jim scanned the room, and spotted her by the hideously fake Christmas tree. With Spock. They both looked uncomfortable, Uhura in her 'this is not bothering me because I can kick your ass' way, and Spock with his 'I am Vulcan therefore pretend you don't know what this combination of stiff shoulders and lowered eyebrows means.'
"Maybe Yeoman Lin should have explained the whole Vulcans don't do holidays thing to Uhura," Jim muttered as Spock accepted a tastefully wrapped box.
"I don't think Spock's ex-girlfriend needs lessons on Vulcan culture."
"Yeah, then why do they both look pissed?"
"Maybe because someone let Chekov assign the secret Santas and he's been trying to get them back together for months."
"Really? Is there a betting pool going on I don't know about?" Jim asked, and Bones elbowed him in the ribs. Spock had spotted them and was heading their way, a small package just the right size for a data card in his hands.
"Oh, there's Scotty," Bones said very quickly as Spock bore down on them. "I'd better go give him his present before he's too drunk to remember who it's from."
Spock arrived, efficiently. He was wearing the Santa hat again, and Jim supposed Scotty really couldn't have ambushed Spock twice.
"Captain. I was assigned to procure a gift for you for this ritual." Spock thrust the package at him.
"Thank you, Mister Spock." Jim pulled the perfectly tied ribbon and tried to look surprised when the box contained the expected data card. "A book. Spock, you shouldn't have."
"Have I misunderstood the premise of this gift exchange?" Spock asked, frowning, but Jim had stopped paying attention, caught by the title on the card. Spock's expression cleared. "From the 'Sea- to Space-Faring Vessels' series. It documents the construction of the Enterprise, including its conception, interviews with the main design team, and anecdotes from the Riverside shipyards. As you grew up nearby, I thought the significance would increase in magnitude."
"Spock, thank you." Jim curled his fingers around the box. He'd already read every technical spec and manual on his girl, but this was like being given the Enterprise's baby album. "You know, you're being a very good sport about all this."
Spock quirked his head. The hat quirked with him. "Please clarify what you mean by 'all this.'"
"Oh, you know. Christmas. We get even more illogical this time of year. It must be driving you crazy."
"On the contrary. I am intrigued by the differences and similarities between my own family's Christmas traditions and those of the crew. I have speculated some of the differences might be regional variations -- Mister Chekov's anticipation of a visit from Babouschka, for instance, though his reliability is in doubt given his insistence that Russians invented the Christmas tree. Much of my ignorance is due to the fact that this is the first time I have chosen to participate in seasonal activities within a wider social network."
"So... you celebrate Christmas?"
"I understood this to be one of the most widely observed holidays in North America." After a moment of no response, Spock clarified, "My mother was born in Seattle."
"Right. Only... your dad doesn't seem the type to..."
The eyebrow went up. Not the 'involuntarily amused' eyebrow, or the 'puzzled by the insanity of humans' eyebrow. It was the 'Jim is being an ass' eyebrow, the one he hadn't seen in nearly a year.
"You believe that my father would not allow my mother to celebrate her own traditions in our home?"
"No! It's just, I thought... You're not very well versed in other human customs."
"My unfamiliarity with human group social dynamics is logical given that my mother was the only human with whom I interacted until I came to Earth. Your supposition that this ignorance extends to private familial rituals is erroneous."
Jim digested this. "So... getting you a present would not be disrespecting your diversity?"
"Not at all."
"Damn Xenocultural-whatever coordinators."
Spock had a way of scowling without moving any facial muscles, but the expression was fading. "Yeoman Lin advised you that Vulcans do not single out specific days for celebrations."
"Yeah."
Spock softened the rest of the way. "She was correct. However, I... I am not Vulcan. I am unique. I am unfamiliar with many human customs, Jim, but Christmas is not one of them."
Jim shook his head, lips twitching. "I should have figured. When I heard you play... ah, did I tell you I enjoyed your performance?"
"Your reaction did not go unnoticed." Spock stepped closer.
"Really." He had to swallow. "What reaction would that be?"
"The one in which you expressed evidence of enjoyment of our performance, despite Ensign Riley's enthusiasm, while observing myself alone of our quartet."
Jim supposed that was Spockese for 'you couldn't keep your eyes off me'. He looked at his feet, chagrined at being caught, then up at the glittery ceiling. Naturally, he had managed to shuffle himself under one of the sprigs of greenery Chapel and Keenser had put up.
"Mistletoe." He sighed. "I suppose you're familiar with that custom too."
"Indeed. I have been attempting to manoeuvre you beneath one since we began this conversation nine point three minutes ago. You have been most uncooperative."
Jim's heart skipped. He blinked, then a slow grin spread across his lips. "Mister Spock, you never cease to amaze me."
Spock gave him that smug look that passed for a Vulcan smile, all in the eyes. "I shall endeavour to continue to do so." He extended two fingers, palm up, and waited until Jim did the same, then turned his hand over and brushed the pads of their fingers lightly together. A warm tingle shivered up Jim's spine and his breath caught.
"This is a kiss?"
"It is."
"My XO just kissed me."
"He did."
Jim swallowed. "Would he like to do so again? Perhaps in my quarters?" The gift he'd bought for Spock on Denobula two months ago was still in his closet, unwrapped.
Spock's eyes darkened, and Jim could not believe he'd once thought the man cold and emotionless. "The odds that he would are climbing exponentially."
"Oh, hell." Jim pulled Spock into a perfectly human kiss under the mistletoe. "Merry Christmas, me."