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Spock leaned back into the cushions of the overstuffed sofa in McCoy's Georgia home, his long fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of peppermint tea, watching Jim and Leonard bicker over nothing in particular as they put up holiday decor, the pair jumping from topic to topic like hummingbirds flitting from flower to flower. He had never dared to hope that he would get to live a life filled with moments this wonderful, with not one, but two people who both understood and accepted him.
After the dissolution of his childhood bond with T'Pring, Spock had come to several overdue realizations.
The first had been that he didn't want T'Pring, and never had. In the moments after McCoy had beamed back to the ship, believing that he had lost his captain, had lost Jim, the only emotion he could feel in her presence was anger, perhaps even something he was coming to recognize as hatred. He had never felt hatred before, not even for the children who had bullied him in his youth. But for someone who would treat Jim's life so callously, he found that he was capable of producing the emotion in spades.
The second realization was embarrassing - not for its contents, but for the simple fact that he hadn't arrived at it before. It had been that he couldn't envision a life worth living without Jim by his side. Without Jim, it would not matter what became of Spock. It would not matter whether he spent the remainder of his too-long life in a Klingon labor camp or on the finest ship in the 'Fleet. He would be equally miserable.
The third, he had required Jim's assistance to reach. The third was that his captain felt the same way about him, and had for a long time. When they had left sickbay to "go mind the store", as Jim had phrased it, they had taken an unexpected detour to the captain's quarters. Spock had been so relieved to see him alive that he hadn't even questioned it. And in the privacy of his quarters, Jim had confessed to his feelings for his first officer. He had also shared something with Spock that he had not previously bothered to tell anyone else. That he was something called "ace". He described it to Spock as a sort of lack of sexual feelings and desires.
Spock had taken it all in stride. He was, quite frankly, already more familiar with human sexual drives than he was comfortable with. It was hard to possess Vulcan senses whilst living in close quarters with approximately 400 humans, and not be informed about human sexual drives. The confession had been a relief. While Spock had always assumed he would be required to participate in sexual endeavors to please a partner someday, he had never found the idea very... agreeable. Spock, ever the logical being, had merely informed him that pon farr could possibly be resolved through meditation, and Kirk had, of course, told him that pon farr was a very different situation. Specifically, that he would not allow any preferences or aversions of his to risk Spock's life. Still, the Vulcan had resolved to learn as much as he could about resolving his time through meditation.
It had been a little more than two years since that day; two years of shared meals, games of chess, and staying overnight in Jim's quarters, crowding into Jim's single bed with their limbs intertwined and occasionally kissing purely for the intimacy of the act.
Over time, Bones had wormed his way into sharing some of their meals and their free time, though never their bed. Sometimes, the three of them did nothing more than sit together and read, but the simple act of doing it together brought Spock more joy than he had previously assumed possible. While Bones wasn't part of their romantic relationship, and often sought out others to "release tension", as he phrased it, he always returned to them at the end of the day.
And so, given their relationship, when the Enterprise had docked near Earth for repairs just in time for the winter holidays, it was unanimously agreed that they would spend their leave at McCoy's home in Georgia. The temperature was better suited to Spock, and the location better for McCoy to meet up with his daughter, who worked as a nurse in an Atlanta hospital.
----
"Spock, settle an argument for us," Jim said, breaking into Spock's musings.
"I shall endeavor to do my best, Jim, but I will remind you that even I cannot manage the impossible," Spock replied, one side of his mouth twitched into the barest hint of a smirk.
Bones looked away, but Spock didn't need to see his face to know he was trying to hide his own smile. Jim didn't bother to hide his own fond eye roll.
"What is the ultimate holiday drink - hot chocolate or eggnog?" Jim plowed on ahead without verbally acknowledging Spock's snark.
Spock simply raised an eyebrow at him. "As I consume neither of those beverages, I cannot imagine why you would seek my advice on such a matter."
"Spock!" Jim chastised. "You're supposed to back me up!"
"Is this another one of your human traditions?" Spock asked.
"No," McCoy broke in. "He's just trying to cheat."
"Cheat? Me? I would never," Jim pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense.
"May I remind you, Jim, of a test called the Kobiya--"
"Alright, alright, fine! You got me," Kirk interrupted, flopping dramatically onto the sofa in defeat, his head landing neatly in Spock's lap as Spock set his cooling tea on the side table.
"Spock, did he just admit defeat?" Leonard asked with exaggerated disbelief.
"It would appear that he has... perhaps we have finally found a true no-win scenario, Doctor."
Kirk turned to press his face into Spock's stomach, mumbling something unintelligible. Spock gently raked a hand through his hair, and the grumbling turned to a noise of appreciation.
McCoy, obviously having accepted that the time for decorating was over for now, picked up a padd and used it to poke at Jim's feet. Obediently, Jim lifted them long enough for McCoy to sit down, and then dropped them back into his lap. Bones gave them a brief disgusted look, but said nothing more as he settled in with his padd to read.
Spock returned to his own musings, his hand still stroking through Jim's blonde hair.
He had never celebrated holidays on Vulcan. If he'd been asked three years ago, he would no doubt have found the concept highly illogical. But now, sitting here with his two favorite people in the universe, he could think of no place he would rather be.
---
If you had told James T. Kirk that someday, he'd be grateful to the Klingons for firing on the Enterprise and rendering her largely inoperable, he would probably have had you committed for an involuntary psychiatric hold.
And yet, here he was. Grateful for absolutely everything and to absolutely everyone which had led to this moment. Even that bitch, T'Pring. Perhaps especially to T'Pring, for forcing him to face reality and inspiring him to open up to his first officer.
Kirk was trailing after Bones and Spock as they wound their way through the nursery's selection of pine trees.
"I still do not understand what the purpose of this is," Spock protested.
"The purpose is to help me pick out the healthiest one," McCoy answered. He'd apparently given up on explaining why the tree was necessary, and moved on to Spock's role in the day's adventure.
"So that you may kill it?" Spock asked.
Bones sighed, tilting his head back to send a glance upwards that screamed, 'Help me.'
What he said aloud was different. "This isn't the goddamned 20th century anymore. We'll acclimate the tree to the house over the next week, and it'll stay indoors for maybe three days. When the holiday is over, we'll plant it out in the yard where we're havin' issues with soil erosion. Does that meet with your approval?"
"I see," Spock said with a considering head tilt. "So we are to inflict needless suffering on it before we give it a purpose."
"Needless suff--!" Bones exclaimed, clearly in the midst of working himself up into a frothing rage. "If you want to see needless suffering, I can show you needless suffering!"
"That will not be necessary, Doctor," Spock replied, his voice drier than the damned Sahara.
"You--" Bones stuttered out, but he was interrupted by a chuckle from behind him.
He and Spock turned as one to see Jim's face turning red with suppressed laughter. Both of their expressions softened at the sight.
"So are we picking out a tree or not?" Jim asked when he'd finally gotten himself back under control.
Spock looked around at the assembled trees. "I suppose, since we are here, it is only logical."
Bones grinned, and grabbed Spock by the arm to lead him towards a group of healthy-looking Vanderwolf pines. They immediately began a discussion on the pros and cons of individual trees.
Kirk just watched them, fondly. As much as Kirk loves the Enterprise, she'll never be able to compare with how whole he feels when it's just him, Spock, and Bones.
---
It was two days until Christmas, or, as Jim insisted on calling it, "Christmas Eve eve." Just that morning, Spock and Jim had dragged in the tree from where it had been acclimating to the shade and warmth of the house on the screened-in porch. Leonard, who celebrated Christmas as a child and had thus inherited an unholy number of ornaments, tasked himself with pulling them out and unwrapping them.
Meanwhile, Spock and Jim were in the kitchen, planning... something... to commemorate the last day of Hanukkah.
"How much oil?" he heard Spock ask.
Knowing their dubious history with all things culinary, Leonard edged toward the entryway to the kitchen. He took up a position leaning against the pillar that separated his living room from his kitchen. Somewhere on the other side, there were little marks, over a decade old at this point, representing Joanna's growth.
"How about I tell you when?" Kirk murmured, leaning so far into Spock's personal space that Spock could probably feel the air displacement from Jim's batted eyelashes.
Without breaking eye contact with Jim, Spock tipped the bottle of vegetable oil down towards the pan.
Kirk leaned forward, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips. They withdrew from each other by mere inches, Kirk with a wide grin, and Spock struggling to maintain an appropriately Vulcan façade. They stood like that for a few minutes, as if no one and nothing existed outside of the two of them.
Leonard watched patiently, waiting. The more time that passed, the less he could believe that these two were the celebrated command team of the Federation's flagship.
After those few long minutes, he knew what he had to do.
"When," Bones's voice broke into the moment. Jim startled, whipping around to face him, but Spock managed to come back to reality quickly enough to stop pouring oil before the pan overflowed.
"Bones!" Jim exclaimed, as if he hadn't just nearly spurred Spock into spilling oil all over Leonard's kitchen. "Why don't you come help us? You could grate the potatoes."
Bones strode forward to take a seat at the kitchen island. "And let Spock miss out on a golden opportunity to show off his superior Vulcan strength?"
"I do believe that my 'superior Vulcan strength' would be more applicable to ridding the grated potatoes of excess moisture," Spock countered.
Jim pouted and turned to Spock. "You told me you'd never made these before!"
Spock suppressed a wince. "I said I had never made them during Hanukkah."
"Really?" Jim asked with narrowed eyes.
"My mother rather illogically believed in celebrating holidays based on seasons, not the calendar date. She said it was not the same to celebrate winter holidays in the summer."
"And they say Vulcans never lie," McCoy muttered to himself.
"Just for that, Spock, you get to chop the onions," Jim commanded. Spock opened his mouth to protest, no doubt logically, but he wasn't done. "Unless you'd like to try to convince me you've never seen an onion before?"
McCoy pressed a hand to his lips, trying to smother a laugh at the Vulcan's flummoxed (well, what passed for flummoxed on a Vulcan) expression.
"And you!" Kirk whirled towards the doctor, pointing the wooden spoon in his hand at him as if it were a deadly weapon. "I think you can help grate potatoes after all, don't you?"
McCoy grumbled something indistinct about good deeds and punishment, but he went to fetch the box grater regardless.
Kirk smiled at them both, satisfied, before turning to his own tasks. A couple of beaten eggs, a little bit of matzo meal... and he was going to have to do something about all that oil.
McCoy and Spock stole a glance at each other as soon as his back was turned. A Jim Kirk giving commands is a Jim Kirk in his element, and neither of them could ever truly begrudge him that.
After his marriage had gone down in flames, he'd lost custody, and Leonard had realized that he just wasn't cut out for that kind of relationship (nor did he really want one), he had thought he was done with this kind of quiet domestic moment.
When he had joined Starfleet and agreed to a deep space assignment, he hadn't particularly cared about the dangers of the career he was embarking on, because he didn't see the value in staying behind to watch the people he cared about move on without him.
He had never expected to forge a new family among his shipmates. And when his two best friends forged a romantic relationship, he had expected to find himself on the outside once again. He was more surprised than anyone when their relationship had only deepened into what he'd been looking for all his life. People he could just be with. People who, not that he'd ever admit it aloud, he loved.