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Jim shivered as the breeze hit his face. It was a lot colder than normal as of late, forecasters were even threatening snow on the horizon if it didn’t warm up within the next week. Every step he took he regretted not wearing a jacket. Yet the feeling in the neighborhood was tranquil. The warm glow of the street lamps diluted the gloomy grey sky. The older couple down the block were walking their dogs. “Those proper Starfleet boys,” they’d refer to him and Spock. He was tickled every time Rose brought over a sampling of her baking. He waved at them in return, again regretting that even a simple pair of gloves would have helped.
It was the last day of classes before the new year. Jim was grateful all he had to worry about were exams. Of course after those exams he had a list of issues to tackle. He wanted to stay home for the holidays this year. Spock wanted snow. It rarely snowed in San Fransisco. Also, Jim had to bring up the fact that Spock, his completely logical Vulcan, wanted something so whimsically illogical. Then again Spock was a sentimental man. After what happened last Christmas, maybe he wanted a more positive memory. Jim didn’t want to pry.
He was lost in his own thoughts about going to Iowa or staying home or flying off to Vulcan for Hanukkah with Amanda. He lost concentration on the fact that he was freezing. He completely missed the fact that ever since Spock got home earlier that day he was baked out of his fucking mind.
“You measured this and checked it, right?”
“Of course I fucking measured it and checked it! You think I want your house to look like shit?”
Jim stopped short of his front lawn. He gazed at Spock atop a ladder and Bones at the foot of it holding a bundle of lights.
Jim could never get over the first sight of his husband. Whether it was in bed in the morning or later in the evening when he was engrossed in a book, he couldn’t hold back the fluttering of his heart or the nervousness in his gut. Spock always inspired Jim’s bashfulness. He blushed, watching his husband precisely anchoring Christmas lights to the trim of their roof.
Fresh haircut, new pants (he really needs to stop getting pairs that highlight his quads), the flimsy grey long sleeved t-shirt that was actually Jim’s….
“Jim, you trust me to not make your house look like ass, right,” Bones called out.
Ah yes, there was still this situation. Jim shook his head to regain his thoughts. “You better not make my house look like ass.”
“I am here to make your house the classiest one on the block. But the Grinch here thinks I don’t know how to measure.” Bones grumbled. “You know I’m a surgeon, right? I actually have to know the difference between .1 and .2 millimeters, right? RIGHT?!”
Spock purposely yanked more of the lights from Bones’ bundle catching the doctor off guard. A silent but telling action: Shut up, Bones.
“And how come I wasn’t invited to this,” Jim inquired.
“You were on campus,” Spock hammered the next section into place. “I was immediately inspired upon waking early this morning so I made preparations.”
“Meaning you woke up, smoked a bowl, went to the coffee shop and saw all the decorations, and your impaired brain was like ‘oh I gotta have those?’” Jim walked up to the front door. He looked up at Spock through the frame of the ladder.
Avoiding something, or still indulging?
Spock gave Jim the slightest uptick of the corners of his mouth.
“I’m impressed you got Bones to help out with the lights.” Jim cuddled into Spock, who pulled him close. “They look amazing by the way.”
Spock promised Jim earlier they’d both decorate the interior, but Spock also took the liberty of hanging lights in their bedroom. The soft warm glow and Spock’s heat brought Jim into a deep relaxation. He took great care to ease even the slightest of Jim’s worries; he felt as though it was his responsibility.
“He was perplexed when I called,” Spock mused. “However, I think he and I are coming to a silent agreement that we … enjoy … each other’s company.”
Jim chuckled. “You like hanging out together? All I ever see you do is bicker with each other.”
“Friendship comes in many forms.”
“Except you really did hate him calling you a grinch.”
“I find the winter holidays most comforting. I am very much the opposite of a Grinch.”
“Is that why you want us to go to Iowa for Christmas? The snow, the coziness of the fire? Me drunk off my ass because of rum, you fucking stoned to oblivion so you can dubiously consent to a wild public display of affection at the Christmas party?”
Spock lied his hand on top of Jim’s. He pressed his lips to the top of his husband’s head, soaking in the fragrance of his conditioner. “Your mental capabilities are improving.”
“And that’s all you have to say? You know we can do all those things here, in our home.”
It doesn’t snow in San Fransisco.
Jim sighed.
Vulcan is about as hot as Death Valley right now. Absolutely incompatible with Hanukkah, Christmas, and Solstice.
“Uh huh.”
These holidays deserve the proper weather. It just so happens you have family in a region with proper weather.
“Sweetie, t’hy’la, ashal-veh. Stop over thinking this. It’s okay to admit you illogically really really want snow because it’s romantic.”
The thought crossed Spock’s mind, which satisfied Jim for the moment. There was still a lot of turmoil between the two when it came to trust. The events over the summer still lingered between them, and Jim had to carefully delve into the locked pathways of Spock’s consciousness. It was a delicate struggle to find the balance between accommodating his insecurities and getting him to bravely admit his deepest thoughts.
Spock preferred to speak mentally to Jim. He felt it easier to convey most things through their bond, but he relented at times since Jim was still far away from attaining the skill. Phrases and small specific emotions were what Jim was mostly limited to, but for a human it was beyond what a Vulcan could hope for.
He could have conveyed this much better through a meld, but he wanted to use the only language Jim truly knew.
“Okay.” He grasped Jim’s hand. “I want to hold you close to me while we sit in front of a fire. It is late evening, dinner long past. The snow is falling, blanketing every surface and insulating noise to the point where all is quiet and still aside from the breaths you take. You fall asleep and I sit waiting for sleep to claim me as well. When we both wake, the snow is still falling. You pull me up the stairs and dress me in the warmest of clothes. You’re always pulling me after you, my love. Pulling me out of the house, pulling me down the block through snow that hasn’t been touched. You pull me into a kiss and when you break away you ask why I am still so cold despite the multiple layers of clothing…”
“Sweetie?”
“Hmmm?”
“Look up.”
Spock stretched to attain a view of the window that sat behind them. Through the sparsely closed drapes, he saw the flickers of white. It took a few minutes of astute observation to realize that it was snow.
“I want to stay home. In our home. This is our first Christmas together as a married couple. I want memories here.” Jim pulled back the curtains revealing the snow lightly falling. “Look at this.”
It was a thin layer, but it was sticking to the streets, the sidewalks, and all the grassy areas. Spock joined Jim at the window, pleased at the sight.
“More memories like this?” Jim linked his fingers with his husband’s.
Spock scrambled out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He left the room without a word. Not even an inkling through their bond. So Jim raced after Spock who dawned his shoes and threw on his parka.
He barely got on his own coat before he realized what Spock was doing.
“Don’t you think you should wait for it a little more before building a snowman?”
“The potential for the snow to melt before proper accumulation is too much to wait. I will build my snowman right now.”
Jim leaned on the front railing of their porch watching Spock gather mounds of snow. It was a wet heavy snow, but not too melty. Perfect for sculpting. At first Jim thought it was preposterous, but he caught sight of his neighbors across the street doing the same thing.
“Then I guess your snowman needs a bestie,” Jim jumped down from the top step and started gathering his own snow. He barely remembered the last time he built a snowman or had a snowball fight.
“This is your first?”
Spock nodded.
“Don’t get too hung up on making it perfect.”
Spock nodded once more.
I’ve deduced that snowmen are made from wholesomeness, not mathematics.
Jim may have just fallen in love with Spock all over again.
They managed to gather all the snow on their front lawn and the side walk and even into the street. It was enough to build two snowmen standing roughly 4 feet tall. Jim proudly examined the two sculptures.
“Perfect. They’re absolutely perfect.”
“I agree.” Spock slipped his arm around Jim’s waist.
Just like you.