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“What is that?”
“I don't know.” McCoy turned the wooden sculpture over in his hands. “Do you think Spock would like it?”
“Seriously? You're looking for a gift? For Spock?”
Leonard glared at Jim and put the odd sculpture back on the table and wandered deeper into the shop.
“Yeah,” he finally admitted, “and it's your fault.”
“How?”
“You invited him over to experience a traditional Earth holiday. Well, it's not traditional unless there's presents.”
“Yeah,” Jim laughed. “The Japanese tea set we got for him last time we were on Earth. When we talked about this.”
“That's from you.”
“That's from us.”
“I happen to know he's got something for us individually, not us together.”
Jim stared at him, processing.
“So?”
“So, he puts out for two gifts and he only gets one? That's not right.”
Jim stared some more, looking at his husband like he was insane.
“We're a couple, that's what we do.”
“Did you get me a gift?”
“Yes.”
“OK, I got you one, too.”
“Good, you get to sleep in the bed that night.”
“So we'll each open two.”
“Oh my god, Bones!” Jim finally exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It's a nice gift, with multiple parts, that we know he's going to enjoy and use. He's not going to care how many he gets to open!”
“I care!”
“Are we seriously arguing over this?”
“No,” Bones denied, turning his back on Jim and inspecting another shelf in the shop. “I'm not arguing, I'm buying him something.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Jim wandered away, avoiding the startled shop keep who probably had no idea what the strange aliens who had shown up in the odd spaceship the day before were arguing about. First contact missions were complicated, even when they went great. Bones continued to browse, intently looking over one item and another.
“Hey, Jim?” he finally called.
“Yeah?”
“What do you get a Vulcan for Christmas?”
“Damned if I know what YOU get a Vulcan for Christmas. I've already got him something and it's great.”
He couldn't help the grin that stretched his face when Bones scowled at him from across the room.
~^~^~^~^~^~^
The Captain's quarters, occupied by the Captain and the CMO (tight fit, but they liked to be close) was decorated tastefully for a traditional Earth Christmas in the style of starship travel: there was a tree with bright lights and ornaments from all over the galaxy that would be put back in ship's stores when they were done with it and stockings hung by the view port with care. Anything else would have been too much.
“Too much?” Jim asked as he modeled his sweater for his husband. It was in the style of his captain's uniform tunic, but with light up wreath designs where ever his collar, insignia, and braids were supposed to be.
“Actually, it's almost tasteful for an ugly Christmas sweater,” Bones replied, fondly smoothing down the shoulders.
“You think my sweater's ugly?” Jim pouted, looking as if he were about to cry. Bones rolled his eyes and walked away, Jim's expression morphing into a grin. “Remember the first time I did that? And you believed me? You were falling all over yourself to explain.”
“Yeah, I didn't know you as well and you put some real effort into that performance.”
“What's the point, now? You know the punchline. Damn, is our marriage getting predictable?”
“Jim, Darl'n, you are never predictable.”
“True. Hey, when I was getting these ugly things out of storage I didn't see the one your sister got you two years ago, the one that didn't fit right.”
“Why were you looking for that?” Bones asked as he came out of the kitchen area carrying the shaped and frosted cookies they were serving before dinner was delivered.
“I wasn't looking for it,” Jim shrugged. “It just wasn't folded up under the ones we wear.”
McCoy just shrugged, but there was a caginess about him that had Jim suspicious. Before he could say anything else, Bones was moving behind the partition to their sleeping area to slip into his own ugly sweater, a traditional green with a cartoonish chimney motif with Santa legs sticking out of it. Knit pattered smoke 'moved' across the fabric in white blobs (the correct stitches of fabric were simply changing color to give the illusion of movement) while lights chased each other around the bottom edge as if the roof depicted on the sweater had been decorated. He came out just as Jim had prepared their hot beverages and set them down on the table with the cookies.
Everything was ready at precisely 1800 hours when Spock rang the door chime and entered, wearing a festive sweater in red with a green tree covered in blinking lights and moving ornaments while carrying two brightly wrapped packages.
“Wow, Spock,” Jim grinned, shooting an accusatory look at McCoy. “You wore a Christmas sweater? I didn't know you owned one. It's great!”
“Thank you, Jim,” he replied. “I did not, until this morning. Leonard was kind enough to give me his gift early so I'd be ready for the festivities.”
“So Bones got you...”
“A culturally appropriate piece of clothing to be worn during a specific celebration. It also represents the Human tradition of passing on previously given gifts that the original receiver had no use for. An incredibly logical tradition that reduces waste and makes certain that all gifts are used and appreciated.”
“Regifting,” Jim said in amazement. “He introduced you to ugly sweaters and regifting.”
“Yes, Jim,” Spock confirmed, sounding as if he was beginning to believe that maybe Jim needed a lesson in his people's traditions. “A very thoughtful gift I will care for and cherish throughout the years.”
“And that, Jim, is what you get a Vulcan,” McCoy smirked at his flabbergasted husband. “Knowledge.”
The End (Until After Spock Left)
(“You just wanted to get rid of that REALLY ugly sweater your sister cursed you with that never fit your shoulders.”
“Hey, you weren't helping, and it really did teach him about traditions. The fun ones.”
“The kind of sketchy ones, you mean. He's going to start regifting and acting like it's not something to hide.”
“Yeah, that was my gift to me this year. Now come here and let me help you out of that sweater Darl'n. I have another gift for you.”
“Really? Is that what we're calling it now? Talk about regifting. No! I was kidding! Bones, I'm gonna pee myself, stop tickling! I'll be good, I'll be good!”)
(The End This Time)