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Jim reaches for the Andorian Ale, pouring himself a shot and downing it in one.
"Captain," Spock appears at his shoulder, eyebrow lifting as he watches him pour a second of the blue liquid. "Is it wise to become intoxicated at this event?"
"Hey, I’ve fulfilled my one obligation here. And yes, it’s wise. It’s required, even," Jim winces as the shot goes down, gesturing at the dance floor in the middle of the Observation Deck-turned-Reception Hall, with the stars sparkling all around them. He eyes his First Officer skeptically. "Jesus, Spock. Of all people who should be as miserable as I am, it should be you. I just married your ex to my engineer, and you didn’t even flinch, man."
Spock lowers his gaze to the floor, ever unmovable. “Nyota and I ended our courtship on amicable terms. It would be illogical not to wish her and Mr. Scott happiness in their bonding.”
"Whatever," Jim says, "You’re still the ex, and I know parties aren’t really your thing. You’re entitled to skip out on this. I don’t even think she’d be offended."
"She would not," Spock answers, looking back at him. "I am curious, however. Why do you identify as ‘miserable’ at such an occasion, Captain?"
"Ah, I dunno," Jim says, scrubbing the back of his neck and watching the happy couple dance, Uhura in her glittering dress and Scotty in a traditional kilt. "Weddings. I mean, it’s an excuse for a big party, but under everything else, it’s about a connection, a commitment. You know? I don’t know if that’s something I’ll ever have. I don’t know that… that anyone would want that. Not with me."
Spock looks at his Captain for a long moment, then turns to the drinks to pour another pair of shots of the bright blue beverage that matches the precise color of his Captain’s eyes. “With due respect, Jim,” he hands him one glass and takes the other for himself, “I disagree.”