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Scanners indicated that the planet's atmosphere was stormy, so transporting to the surface was out of the question. Even though Scotty assured them that it would be no problem to beam the landing party directly to the area Spock had pinpointed, McCoy staunchly refused to step onto the platform.
"I'm not dying on Christmas," he declared and stood with his back against the wall. Scotty sighed. Jim sighed. Spock raised an eyebrow. Jim's choice was to order McCoy to beam down or bring along a different member of the med team. So when Sulu offered to pilot a shuttle, eliminating the need for the transporter altogether, that was that.
"Captain," Spock whispered into his ear as they exited the transporter room. "This is not an efficient use of resources."
"It's fine, Mr. Spock," Jim said, clasping his arm through Spock's thick jacket. "I think we're all a little jumpy after that last ion storm."
"The likelihood that we would encounter that universe again is—"
"Spock," Jim said kindly. "I know. Prepare the shuttle for departure. I'll meet you in the shuttle bay in a few minutes."
"Sir," Spock said, inclining his head.
***
"It's snowing!" Jim exclaimed as soon as the shuttle door lowered.
All around them, the snow fell rapidly: large, heavy flakes which settled on the ground, the trees, and the shoulders of the away team as they exited the shuttle. Jim zipped his jacket to his throat, pulled on his gloves, and started down the ramp after them.
The planet was quiet, devoid of animal sounds, just the crunch of ice under his boots as he walked. When was the last time he'd seen a snowfall? On Delta Vega, he supposed. That was what, almost four years ago? He laughed, recalling his anger at Spock for marooning him, how he would've decked him if given the chance. He glanced over his shoulder to see Spock headed in his direction and slowed his movements.
He wondered if Spock had ever seen fresh snow before. It was possible; he'd lived on Earth for several years, but San Francisco wasn't known for skiing. Jim had thought about inviting Spock to spend leave with him in a cabin somewhere, just the two of them and a roaring fireplace, but Spock had insisted he volunteer his time on the colony. Jim had spent his leave sweating his ass off in front of a fireplace on New Vulcan instead.
"It's beautiful here, right?" he asked as Spock reached his side. Spock picked his feet up higher with each step than was necessary, like he was plodding through mud.
"If the the absence of scenic diversity can be deemed beautiful, Captain."
"I like how still everything is," Jim breathed. His words curled like smoke in the air.
"Perhaps everything is simply too cold to move."
"Do you have on your thermal?" Jim asked, turning toward him. He tugged Spock's collar higher and his hat more firmly over his ears.
"Yes," Spock said, his breath escaping as a white puff.
"Gloves?" Jim asked. Spock held up both hands to indicate he had worn them. "Good. Let's get scanning, so we can get back to the ship ASAP. We have a party tonight, remember."
"I cannot forget," Spock told him. "You have not ceased to remind me for the past week."
"Well," Jim said, grinning up at him. "After the success of last year's party, I figure this one can only be better."
"If you are planning to intoxicate me again..." Spock began, but Jim put a finger to his lips.
"I'm planning to get Bones drunk, sing some Christmas carols with Scotty, and get naked with you. How does that sound?"
"Infinitely preferable to spending the afternoon on a planet made of ice," Spock said.
"So you're really nixing the honeymoon on Delta Vega?" Jim asked, shaking his head.
"I believe I have made my feelings on the matter known."
"Fine, we'll go to Trillius Prime," Jim said, running a finger along the fastenings on Spock's jacket. "What is it with you and that planet, anyway? They're not Federation members."
"Vulcans were the first to have contact with them," Spock said. "We are still on good terms, but that is not my reason for choosing it. It is the color of the sky. I am particularly fond of that shade of blue."
"Why can't you say stuff like this in front of Bones?" Jim asked. "He doesn't believe me that you're a closet romantic."
Spock's mouth curved into a smile. He touched one gloved hand to Jim's face. "I do not care what Dr. McCoy thinks of me."
Jim leaned in for a kiss, but Spock merely nodded at him and pulled out his tricorder.
"You know, they have ice caves on Trill," Jim declared as Spock walked away.
***
"I forgot I was so good at making snowballs," Jim whispered to Sulu as he packed another one in his hands. His gloves were damp, fingers starting to chill, but he hadn't seen this much snow in years. He grinned against the numb feeling in his cheeks. "Sam and I used to have epic battles in the front yard."
"I can only imagine," Sulu said and brought his coat more tightly around him.
"Sorry there're no plants for you to adopt," Jim told him.
"My lab's full enough, as is," Sulu said. "It's just nice to get off the ship, stretch my legs."
"I wish we could stay here for the night," Jim said. "Maybe a campfire, marshmallows..." He patted the snowball, ensuring the form was round and solid, and launched it at McCoy. It struck him in the leg. McCoy turned around, scowling, and barked in Jim's direction.
"Would it kill you to act like a starship captain for one hour?"
Jim and Sulu snickered. Jim scooped up the makings of a second snowball, which he threw in a similar fashion with similar results.
"So help me, Jim, I will declare you unfit for duty."
"Where'd Spock go?" he called.
McCoy motioned behind Jim, toward a path that led into the nearby forest.
"Did he go alone?" Jim asked. McCoy shook his head.
"He took Hendorff with him."
Nodding, Jim checked his comm. "We've been on surface for an hour," he said. "The only thing down here is snow. Do you think that was enough time to gather the samples we need?"
"You'll have to ask your chief science officer about that," McCoy returned. "I'm just your CMO."
"You're a grouch," Jim told him. "Try to get into the spirit."
"You're the one married to an elf."
"Xenophobia, Bones..." Jim reminded him as he walked toward the woods.
The trees here weren't like trees back on Earth. They were shorter, with long, sweeping branches that had no offshoots. They arched overhead like spindly fingers, on either side of the path some animal had trudged through the woods. Sensors revealed no sentient lifeforms, but Spock had identified something that to Jim looked like a white moose with one antler.
Jim hoped Spock would be so wrapped up in science that he wouldn't hear Jim approach. He always liked to catch Spock when he was working. It was interesting to glimpse his face on the bridge, his eyebrows furrowed as he mulled over data from the computer. But to see him like this, in a natural setting, kneeling on the forest floor—it made Jim feel pretty damned proud just thinking about it. Of all the bridges on all the starships in the 'fleet, Spock had walked onto his.
(It's possible he needed to lay off the classic vids.)
He heard Spock before he saw him, spitting orders at Hendorff in a tone he hadn't heard Spock use in years, certainly never with a subordinate.
"I instructed you to hold the sample while I scanned it."
"Sorry, Commander, but it moved!"
"You allowed it to escape before I was able to complete the DNA scan. Now the record for this creature will be incomplete, unless we are able to recapture it."
"Sir—"
"Return to the landing party, Lieutenant. You are dismissed."
"Yes, sir," Hendorff grumbled and stomped past Jim (he gave him a sympathetic knock on the shoulder) and back toward the rest of the landing party.
Spock stood with his head bowed, looking toward the area where, Jim presumed, the creature had scampered off.
"Can I help?" Jim offered after a minute, folding his arms over his chest. Spock startled at his voice, turning his head sharply, and frowned.
"Doubtful," Spock said. He roughly pressed the controls on his tricorder with a gloved hand.
"Look," Jim said, moving closer. He lowered his voice. "I know the...whatever-it-was escaped, but did you have to talk to Cupcake like that?"
"If you had allowed me to bring my full science team, this would not be an issue."
"Spock," Jim said. He scrubbed the side of his face.
"There was no need for the majority of the crew to be given the day off duty."
"It's Christmas," Jim defended.
"A Terran holiday celebrated by only 72.54% of the crew."
"Yes," Jim said. "Almost three fourths of the crew celebrate. It's a big deal for a lot of them, so I gave anyone who wants it the day off. Now if you want to stay here for another day, bring your scientists down in the morning for another sweep of the surface so you can get the proper readings, that's what we'll do."
Spock pressed his lips together in a line and looked at his hands. Jim noticed that Spock was shivering, his cheeks and nose ghastly pale.
"Have you been regulating your body functions?" Jim asked.
"Of course," Spock snapped.
"What's your core temperature down to?"
"88.6 degrees Fahrenheit."
"Spock!" Jim exclaimed. "We need to get you back to the shuttle before you get hypothermia."
"I am fine," Spock said, holding his tricorder up to the nearest tree, to a darker patch of snow he cleared away with a hand to reveal some type of cold-resistant lichen.
"Are you seriously going to make me order you?"
Spock glared at him through narrowed eyes and switched off his tricorder.
"Go back to the shuttle, Mr. Spock. I'll join you shortly."
Jim listened to Spock's footsteps crunch until they faded.
***
"Well, congratulations," McCoy said as Jim approached the shuttle. "It's a Vulcan popsicle."
"Is he inside?" Jim asked.
"Thankfully," McCoy said. "Hendorff was a few seconds from shooting him."
Jim raised an eyebrow.
"It was on stun," McCoy added and held out his hands. "Are we heading back to the ship?"
"Give us a couple minutes, will you?" Jim asked, pressing the button which opened the shuttle's passenger door.
"Oh, sure," McCoy said. "It's not like the rest of us are cold or anything."
Jim rolled his eyes and stepped inside the shuttle. It was powered on, and the heat was blasting. Already, it was significantly warmer than the surface temperature. He ordered the door closed and pulled off his gloves, laying them on the back of the captain's seat. Spock was sitting in the rear of the shuttle, his head hanging between his shoulders, caught in his hands.
"Hey," Jim said, approaching him.
"I apologize for my behavior."
"Give me your hands," Jim said, kneeling in front of Spock.
"Captain…"
"Are you going to let me help, or are you going to let yourself get frostbite?"
Jim removed Spock's gloves and began to rub Spock's hand between his, intermittently blowing on it.
"Jim," Spock began when Jim sucked Spock's too-cold fingers into his mouth. "That is—" Spock's voice hitched.
"I know," Jim said breathily. "Me too, but I swear, I'm just trying to warm you up. Mostly. Do you want me to stop?"
Spock glanced to the door, then back at Jim. "It would be wise for us to cease this behavior until we are back in our quarters."
Jim bit his lip, then pulled out his comm. "Bones," he said. "Make sure no one comes in here for...ten minutes. Okay?"
"Jim," McCoy shot back. "If you think I'm going to sit out here and freeze while you and that hobgoblin—"
"Better make it fifteen. Thanks, Bones."
Jim snapped his comm closed and tossed it aside, shrugging out of his jacket. Spock raised an eyebrow but looked...interested.
"You know what they say about body heat," Jim said as he peeled off his shirt and unlaced his boots.
"This is not appropriate."
"It's science," Jim said. "I thought you'd like that."
Spock tried to roll his eyes but shuddered instead. Jim kicked out of his pants until he was clad in only black briefs, then stepped between Spock's legs.
"Arms," he ordered. "Up."
Spock mutely obeyed, holding his arms over his head like a child as Jim slipped off his wet coat and his tunic. He hung them from one of the ceiling hooks to dry, then pointed at Spock's legs. Spock frowned when Jim unfastened his fly; it deepened when Jim sunk both hands beneath his waistline before actually completing the task at hand and discarding of Spock's wet pants.
"You do realize I must be clothed when we return to the ship," Spock said dryly as Jim climbed onto his lap.
"I do," he said and wrapped his arms around Spock's shoulders. Spock's skin was always cool in contrast, but this felt like pressing his chest against a pane of glass. Spock brought his arms up around Jim and clutched at him, shivering.
"Oh god," Jim said, burying his face in Spock's neck. "Baby, I had no idea you were so cold."
"It was tolerable," Spock informed him.
"I'm sorry," Jim mumbled.
"I was aware that I would be exposed to less-than-desirable climates when I enlisted."
"Good thing you're married to a hot-blooded human."
"We are not married," Spock said, but he tightened his hold around Jim and gently bit into his shoulder.
"Fine, bonded. Whatever," Jim said and kissed Spock's ear, rubbing his cheek against it. "We would be married, if you'd just say yes."
"I do not understand why it is necessary to join in more than one tradition."
"Because it means a lot to your awesome husband?"
"You are not—"
"I am," Jim cut him off. "I am awesome. Are you feeling any better?"
"My temperature has risen to 89.4."
Jim stroked his cheek, which was beginning to flush green again. He traced the outline of Spock's ear, grazing the tip.
"You know," Jim said idly. "I've heard the only way to really accurately measure your temperature is—"
"Do not say it."
"—rectally."
Spock sighed.
"Want me to check that for you?" Jim offered.
Spock shook his head, but his dick twitched, which Jim took as a positive sign. He ground his hips down politely, which made Spock groan.
"Maybe once we're back on board?" Jim suggested, but he rubbed against Spock some more for good measure.
Spock nodded against Jim's neck and bit him again, a little less gently this time.
***
"I've gotta hand it to you," McCoy said, clinking his glass against Jim's. They hovered near the dessert table, and Jim was down to crumbs on his third plate of pie. He tapped his toes to the music Scotty was blaring through the mess. "You throw one hell of a party."
"It's the eggnog," Jim confided with a wink. "It's spiked."
"You don't say," McCoy replied and held up his glass.
"You're in a good mood," Jim commented. "You should go talk to Carol."
"I think she's busy," McCoy mumbled, but they both looked across the room to where Carol stood chatting with Chekov. McCoy scratched the back of his neck and sighed.
"Better get in there, man," Jim said and elbowed him.
"She's fine."
"You're stalling. Want me to get the ball rolling for you?"
"No," McCoy said emphatically. Jim shrugged.
"I recommend the mistletoe approach. It's cliche, but everyone secretly loves it."
"It's better than your approach, getting your first officer drunk so he'll confess his undying love for you in a turbolift."
"I had no idea that was going to happen," Jim declared.
"Speaking of your first officer, I think he's looking for you, and I need a refill."
McCoy sidled off, so Jim caught Spock's gaze across the room. Spock raised an eyebrow, which made Jim grin and duck his head. He meandered through groups of crewmembers who stood mingling, to where Spock stood near the edge of the dance floor, a drink in each hand. He presented one to Jim and took a long sip from the other, which smelled suspiciously like chocolate.
"I thought you said I wasn't allowed to get you drunk tonight?" Jim asked with a lifted eyebrow of his own.
"Those were not my exact words," Spock said. "It was logical for me to consume a hot beverage, and I understand hot chocolate is seasonally appropriate."
"What's this?" Jim asked, indicating his own glass.
"It is something Mr. Chekov prepared for you. I am assured it will have the desired effect."
"Oh, really?" Jim asked and took an experimental sip. Whatever it was, it was strong. He exhaled, feeling the burn on his tongue and down the back of his throat. "Is there a message in all this?"
"None that I am aware of," Spock said innocently. "Except, of course, Merry Christmas. Captain."
He stroked one finger along the back of Jim's hand in a less-than-subtle display. Jim gave him a questioning look. Spock merely raised his eyes to the ceiling above them, where a familiar green sprig dangled from a gold ribbon.
"Cute," Jim said. "But you know, you don't have to get me drunk to get in my pants."
"It has never been necessary," Spock agreed. He sent a wave of lust to Jim, who instantly flushed. "But perhaps we could consider it our holiday tradition."