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Winter on Vulcan was a somber affair. It was also dry as hell and a balmy 17C during the day and below zero at night. To Vulcans it was perfect parka weather, although Leonard mostly got by with the sweater Amanda had made him. It was a soft wool number with little medical designs on front: scalpels and hyposprays and medical tricorders in neat little v-shaped stitches. He loved it.
They had been there visiting for a week when Spock woke him very, very early one morning and told him it was time. Time for what was less clear. Still, he put on his boots with nary a grumble, donned his sweater, and followed his boyfriend out of the house and down the ridge of the mountain.
It was colder at night. Spock was in his full winter jacket and thick pants. His breath misted in the cool air. Leonard watched him lead the way, smiling slightly to himself. Although they had only been dating two years he was still endlessly touched that Spock had invited him home for the observance of the Winter Vulcan holiday. He knew how private Spock was. He could have gone his whole life and not met Spock’s parents a second time, after Babel. Amanda had welcomed him with open arms, and Sarek at least hadn’t actively derided him although he did tend to keep to himself.
They walked in the starry light down into the basin of the desert. Here, the desert shifted from the high mountains into rock-strewn sand. There was more life here in the form of sleeping snakes and short, squat cacti and shrubs. Spock cast a glance back at him, eyes bright in the night.
Leonard felt his breath catch. He thought about asking where they were going, but seeing Spock gave him pause. He reached out and Spock took his hand, helping him down over the last rock. Spock held him for a moment, radiating warmth and happiness, before slipping his hand back into his pocket.
They walked quite a ways, seeming to wander until Spock spotted something in the distance and then headed for it directly. It appeared to be a cactus like any other, but Spock apparently thought it was something special.
Spock knelt beside it and brushed his hands over the sand, nodding to himself. He gestured for Leonard to kneel as well, and then produced two small digging sticks.
“Yon-savas,” Spock whispered to him. Somehow, the fact he was speaking Vulcan made the break in silence less jarring. “Dig with me. Take care not to puncture the fruit.”
They dug together. Just beneath the surface the ground was slightly frozen, and it took a bit of elbow grease to break up the sand. Gradually they revealed the root of the cactus, and then Leonard saw a series of fist-sized red fruits. Spock showed him how to tug it up and cut it from the root without losing the fruit, and they gathered four of them.
The sun barely peeked over the horizon. Spock sat back on his hip and took one of the fruits, cutting into it. His mouth was soft as he held a paper-thin slice up to Leonard.
With a grin of his own, Leonard leaned in and closed his lips over the thin wafer. Then he gasped. “What is that?” He coughed, his voice far too loud in the warming morning.
Spock’s eyes glinted, mischievously. “Yon-savas are known for their strong flavor.”
“I’ll say.” He coughed again, trying to place the flavor despite his burning tongue. It was not unlike biting into a stick of cinnamon, or maybe a habanero pepper. He watched Spock take a bit of the fruit, chewing thoughtfully.
“Perhaps, with an added incentive…” Spock murmured.
Leonard let his eyes slide shut as Spock kissed him. He could taste the fruit on Spock’s tongue, spicy and hot, but he was soothed by Spock’s gentle tongue and the soft exhalation of his breath. He placed his warm hand over Spock’s chilled one and ran his thumb over Spock’s knuckles. Spock gasped and Leonard slipped inside his beautiful mouth, loving the way he shivered from pleasure more than cold.
The sun had pinkened the sky when Spock pulled away, pupils blown and eyes half-lidded. “We must go,” he said with great reluctance. “Or we will miss the time.”
Their return trip across the desert was hurried. They climbed the mountainside as the sun was split in twain by the horizon. It was warmer now, and Leonard tugged at the collar of his shirt and thought of kissing Spock again.
Back home, Spock ushered him to light the incense as he coaxed the coals from last night back to fire. Leonard enjoyed the smooth, almost vanilla-esque incense. Spock put on a small cauldron of water to boil and collected a cast-iron teapot coated in a bright jade-colored enamel and a matching tea cup. He filled the teapot with the fruits they had gathered.
“We’re making tea?”
“There is a tradition,” Spock said quietly, pouring the boiling water over the fruits. The scent of the fruit steeping permeated the air, mixing with the incense. “Vulcans honor our family matron on the eighth day. In times past, retrieving the yon-savas to make tea usually involved facing the wild sehlat who prowled the desert night, hungry after their winter hibernation. Thankfully,” he cast a glance at Leonard, almost smiling. “We do not live in a place where sehlat are plentiful.”
“I’ll count my blessings.”
“Mother will come down when the sun lifts from the horizon. We will not speak, but we will honor her with our sacrifice as her children.”
Her—? Before Leonard could ask for clarification, Amanda stepped from the stairs into the room. He clamped his mouth shut and mirrored Spock’s low bow to her.
She was smiling as she walked over, resting her closed hand against Spock’s face and then turning to Leonard, repeating the action. She knelt on a cushion and they both knelt as well. Spock poured her a cup of tea and presented it to her, holding it with both hands.
She took it an inhaled deeply before drinking it in one draught. Leonard winced at the sight, remembering the pungent flavor of the plain fruit. He wondered if the tea was just as strong. She sighed happily when it was gone and then filled the cup herself, presenting it to Spock.
“T’nash-veh sa-fu. Ha’tha ti’lu.”
He drank the tea, and then Amanda repeated the exercise, this time presenting the cup to Leonard. He nodded to her and she smiled brightly as he drank. Then, she placed her hand on Spock’s shoulder and his and seemed to listen for a moment, smiling softly the entire time. Leonard had the vague impression that Spock was there. He usually only got this when they touched hands, but now he felt like Spock was sitting beside him both physically and spiritually. And he could feel Amanda as well. She radiated goodwill and kindness. She was so gentle yet strong. He tried to radiate how thankful he was for her, and he felt Amanda’s joy in response. She seemed to become a part of them, the three of them as closely knit as the stitches in his sweater.
He was not sure how much time passed before they broke apart. It was not as sudden as a link breaking. Rather, they pulled apart gradually and Amanda rose, smiling at them.
“And now for an Earth tradition,” she said. “How do pancakes sound?”
“That would be very agreeable, Mother,” Spock said, standing as well.
Leonard stood a bit more unsteadily. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
Her eyes twinkled. “You two enjoy the morning. I’ll call you in to set the table when it’s ready.”
Leonard watched her glide from the room, and then nearly jumped when he felt Spock touch his arm. He turned, floored by Spock’s bright and burning gaze.
“Thank you, Ashayam,” Spock whispered.
“I…was that…?”
“You were perfect.” Spock seemed more open than usual, utterly relaxed yet vibrating slightly. “Thank you,” he said again.
Leonard felt his lips twitch, confused yet pleased at Spock’s reaction. He leaned in and kissed Spock softly, and Spock entangled their fingers together as well. They stood together and breathed the same air, shared the same thoughts of gentle happiness, as the sun and fire warmed the room and then Amanda’s tinkling voice called them in to eat.