The Logic of the Holidays

Mistletoe and Hot Chocolate

Christmas was less of a mystery to Spock than it was to other Vulcans because of his human mother, yet there were still a few things about the holidays he could not comprehend. The exchanging of gifts was a centuries-old tradition, and the cheery songs that crew members seemed to be humming constantly to themselves were sung every year, and the presence of an evergreen tree decorated with colorful lights and orbs were all things he could understand and even allow himself to enjoy.

However, one of the things that continued to elude his understanding was the tradition of hanging a small plant above doorways and tables while attempting to coerce friends to unknowingly stand beneath it. Even further, he did not understand why such an unassuming plant with its dark green leaves and white berries seemed to instill in humans the desire to kiss one another. Oddly enough, Spock had noticed a slight infatuation with the plant in Jim this last year, beginning just before the Christmas last December.

If there was one thing Spock understood about Christmas it was that it made Jim happy. A soft smile graced his lips when he heard Uhura singing carols on the bridge, and he would hum along just loud enough that his First Officer's sensitive ears could pick up the sound. Jim's quarters gave residence to a small tree of its own, a small silver star perched atop its highest branches, red and blue and gold balls hanging from the others. A string of incandescent lights wrapped around and around the small tree and reflected in Jim's hazel eyes like stars.

Spock was walking down the corridor toward Rec Room Three with his head bent over a PADD and his lute tucked under one arm. He wasn't paying too much attention to where he was going; his mind was on the summons he had received from Jim only a few moments prior.

"Come play chess," the man had said, his voice wafting out of the communicator .

"Sir, I have a very important report to finish writing," Spock had replied as respectfully as possible, setting his pen down.

"Come play chess," Jim had adamantly repeated, and Spock could hear the mischievous smile in his voice. The captain enjoyed pulling Spock away from his work. "And bring your lute."

"Very well, Jim."

Spock finished tapping out his report and uploaded it to the Enterprise's main computer. He slipped the PADD into his back pocket as he entered the Rec Room.

The only people in the room were Doctor McCoy, Uhura, Scotty, Chekov, Sulu, and Jim, and they were all sitting together at a table near the Christmas tree. The only chess board set up was all the way on the other side of the room. This gave Spock the distinct impression that he and Jim were not going to be playing chess.

Jim caught sight of Spock from across the table and shot him a grin over the top of Bones' head. Chekov saw him next and gestured for him to come over with an animated wave. With an urge to roll his eyes, Spock walked slowly over to the table where his friends all sat. Jim kicked out the chair beside him so the Vulcan would have a place to sit. Spock sat beside him quietly, settling his lute against his shoulder.

Sulu stood, shifting his hands behind his back to conceal a fuzzy red and white Santa hat which he plopped unceremoniously on Spock's head. The others sitting around the table laughed, though Spock's attention settled on the laugh of his T'hy'la as Jim's hands reached up to pull the white fuzz of the hat down over the Vulcan's ears.

Spock glanced across the table at Bones, who was looking back at him with a smug grin under his eyes.

"Doctor, I do believe you are rather enjoying my predicament," he said with an eyebrow raised into the hat.

"You can bet your pointed ears I am," Bones replied with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Scotty stood, going over to the replicator and coming back a few seconds later carrying a nearly overflowing pitcher of hot chocolate and a stack of seven glasses. He passed the glasses out to everyone at the table and filled Spock's higher than everyone else's despite his protests. Uhura produced a plate of star-shaped sugar cookies from who-knows-where, and Bones replied to Spock's questioning look with, "We waited for you to get here before we started the party."

"I was not aware we were having a party, Doctor."

"It was Jim's idea," Scotty cut in after setting down his drink.

Spock looked over to Jim who grinned again. "It's our last Christmas on this mission; we had to do something."

"Good hot chocolate," Sulu managed around his mouthful of cookie.

"Of course it's good," Chekov said proudly. "Hot chocolate was iwented in-"

"Not Russia, Pav," Uhura laughed.

"This is an old family recipe of Bones', right, Bones?"

The doctor cast his blue eyes over to Jim. "That's right. My grandfather decided it would be better with a shot of Bailey's Irish Cream and it's been that way ever since."

The group of officers fell into a comfortable and companionable silence, and for a short time the only noises to be heard were those of the Enterprise herself as her engines purred through space.

Spock set his empty glass back on the table and nodded appreciatively at Scotty when the engineer poured him another drink. He picked up his lute from where he had set it on the floor, and, after making sure it was still properly tuned, began to play Christmas carols softly.

Uhura was the first to notice, and soon her melodious and soulful voice joined Spock's chords in "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" as he played.

The other officers joined in when the songs turned jovial, and many songs and many pitchers of hot chocolate later, when Spock shakily set down his lute, Scotty drunkenly clapped his hands and cheered for the crewmen who had sung and played.

Bones pushed himself to his feet, wandering behind the tree and rummaging around for a moment before coming back with something green held loosely in his fist. The doctor leanded against the table with his free hand behind Jim, raising the object now held between his fingers with a buzzed grin.

Dangling above and between Spock and Jim was a vibrant piece of mistletoe, the white berries glimmering a soft rainbow in the lights of the Christmas tree.

A few chuckles escaped the others as Jim took notice of the plant by his head and a pale blush spread across his cheeks. Spock's face was already tinted a pale shade of green by slight intoxication and the color only deepened as Jim reached over to grab Spock's hand and press their index and middle fingers together.

Jim's laughter echoed in Spock's mind as they locked eyes and seemed to share the same sentiment, "Our friends are jerks."

Whether it was because of the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe or the intoxication, not one of the officers knows, but Spock leaned forward and pressed his lips against Jim's. Cheers and whistles erupted from the remaining officers, but neither Jim nor Spock heard them over the chorus of harmonies flurrying between their minds.

Even though he was not certain of the origins of the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe, Spock most definitely was certain that he liked it very much, illogical though it may be.