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Spock loved Leonard dearly and had early on resigned himself to tolerating Leonard’s… eccentricities… but this seemed excessive even for him.
“You wish to disrupt your natural circadian rhythm in order to watch a holo of a lighted sphere descending several thousand miles away?”
Leonard grinned. “Yep.”
“For what purpose?”
“Because it’s fun! It’s just what you do on New Year’s, Spock.”
Spock attempted to discern what a human would find “fun” about that activity, but he failed. “I must protest. You get quite cranky when you do not get enough sleep.”
Leonard’s smile chilled. “You’d better watch it or I’ll get cranky right now.”
Spock saw the logic in refraining from listing his other reservations. “Very well. I will remain with you this evening and do what I can to make sure you maintain an alert state.”
“That’s the spirit!” Leonard stuck out his hand eagerly and Spock met his fingers, feeling fond. Leonard still did not quite understand that the Vulcan kiss was meant to be a ritual gesture. He preferred to do it whenever he pleased. “But first,” Leonard continued. “Popcorn balls.”
Spock mouthed the words in confusion and then dutifully followed Leonard into the kitchen, where Leonard began getting out supplies. He retrieved a startling variety of liquid sugars and an equally startling amount of butter and then instructed Spock to begin popping dried corn kernels. Spock did so, enjoying the meditative sounds the popping produced and the way Leonard plastered himself to his back, kissing one of Spock’s ears.
He burned the first batch of popcorn, but Spock managed to remain focused during the second and third batches. He poured it into a large bowl and observed Leonard melting together the butter and sugars over a hot flame, testing the thickness of the boiling liquid over the back of a wooden spoon.
“My Daddy taught me this recipe,” Leonard said quietly, a little forlorn smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You have to wait for the sugar to sheet on the back of the spoon. See?” At Spock’s nod, Leonard took the pan and dumped the sugar over the popcorn and began stirring it quickly with his hands.
“Leonard! You will burn yourself.”
“A little burn never hurt nobody.”
Spock did not point out the double negative, but he did watch, worried for Leonard’s hands. But he emerged unscathed, and demonstrated how to compact the sugared popcorn into balls.
“Like a snowball,” he said to Spock, who had never seen a snowball in his life.
Still, he made a few of his own precise spherical shapes. They set them aside to cool and Leonard grinned, licking the residual sugar from his fingers apparently absent-mindedly, but he didn’t seem at all surprised when Spock took his hand from him and assisted him with his own tongue.
Leonard returned the favor. Spock felt it was a logical bout of reciprocity.
After, they went for a walk around Leonard’s property as they waited for their snack to set up. It was already pitch-black outside, save for the stars and the moon, which Spock was still surprised to see. As Vulcan had no moon, it was jarring every time he looked at it. The night air was chilly but not uncomfortable. It never really got cold in Georgia. Still, they walked quite close together, and when Leonard teased him about it Spock informed him it was logical to conserve body heat.
They walked down to the creek and Leonard threw rocks in the water as Spock leaned against a tree. The bark was cool and rough through his shirt. It always grounded him to be in nature, and he took full advantage of enjoying it then. He watched Leonard digging in the stream, pulling up stones and squinting at them in the darkness before tossing them back.
“Are you searching for something in particular, Leonard?” Spock called.
“No, just wanted to get my hands wet.” Leonard stood and strolled back over to him, the picture of nonchalance.
Too late Spock saw the mischievous glint in Leonard’s eye, and he tried to dodge as Leonard flicked ice-cold water at him. Leonard descended upon him, laughing, as he mercilessly pressed his shockingly cold hands against Spock’s neck and face and his ears.
Spock managed to grab his wrists, frowning at Leonard’s peals of laughter. “Leonard,” he said sternly.
“Oh, God, Spock,” he croaked out between guffaws. “Your face! Oh, you should see your face!”
Spock blinked, a droplet of water falling from his eyebrow to his cheek. “Is this part of the New Year’s tradition?”
“No, but it should be. Oh, quit your pouting and come here.”
Leonard’s warm kisses were a more than adequate recompense for whatever pain the water had caused.
The hour grew late. They walked back home together, hand-in-hand, and Leonard turned on the holoscreen and began to take out little colorful instruments.
“Noise-makers,” he explained. “For when the ball drops. And then right after we’ll go out and shoot the moon.”
Spock frowned, attempting to parse that sentence. Surely Leonard did not mean it literally. As he was thinking, Leonard brought him a popcorn ball and curled up beside him on the couch. Spock tucked his arm around Leonard and nibbled on the candied popcorn, fascinated when the sucrose gave him a slight buzz of intoxication.
There were still many preparations to go before the main event. Spock watched as news reporters interviewed seemingly random people regarding their excitement for the new year. Some of them shared their new year’s resolutions, a practice Spock found quite interesting. As he watched, he realized Leonard had begun to doze off. He shook Leonard gently, then kissed him, and then finally pulled his ear to keep him awake.
“Ow! I’m up, I’m up. Jesus, Spock. Give me a break.” He took a vindictive bite of popcorn.
Spock merely raised a brow at that and settled back as the countdown flashed at large 10 on the screen.
“Get ready!” Leonard said, counting under his breath.
Spock watched, amused, as Leonard grew more and more excited with each passing second before he suddenly sprung up just as the ball finished crashing down, sending a series of fireworks across the holoscreen. Leonard twirled his noisemaker and shouted. Spock meekly twirled his as well until Leonard pulled him up into a searing kiss, crashing their fingers together as well in a sloppy Vulcan-kiss.
“Supposed to kiss to ring in the new year,” he said, winking at Spock and kissing him again. “Now, are you ready to shoot the moon?”
Spock had contemplated this and had finally decided it was likely a sexual euphemism. He was therefore surprised when Leonard pulled out an antique shotgun and a dusty pack of shells.
“This weapon does not appear to have the yield necessary to reach the moon. It is not even a phase-based weapon.”
“These blank shells won’t help, either,” Leonard said, shaking the box at him. “It’s just a saying, Spock. This is an antique shotgun, more than two-hundred years old, last count. It’s been a family tradition to go out and shoot the sky to celebrate the new year.” His smile wobbled suddenly. “Will you share it with me?”
Spock thought of Leonard alone on New Year’s eve last year, and the year before, and for so many years before that, and he nodded. “I would be honored.”
The temperature had dropped still further, but they only slipped on their boots and forwent their jackets as they stomped outside. Leonard loaded up the weapon and lifted it towards the sky, looking down the sight. Spock had the odd thought that he looked more comfortable holding the antique than he ever had holding a phaser. When Leonard fired, Spock jumped at the sound, so caught up in his reverie that it came as a shock.
Leonard whistled. “Clean miss, I’d say,” he said, grinning.
“Leonard, this is highly unusual.”
“Hey,” he said. “I may be just a backwoods boy from Georgia, but you knew that full well when you decided to hitch your wagon to my train. Now come here and let me show you how it’s done.”
The kick surprised Spock at first, despite Leonard’s attempts to get him to hold the thing correctly. The second shot was better, but by that point Spock’s ears were ringing from the concussive noise. Leonard took pity on him and finished off the round before leading the way back inside.
Spock helped him clean up, feeling slow and tired. Although his Vulcan physiology meant he required less sleep than a human, he still wished for bed. He wanted to lie with Leonard and whisper into his hair.
Finally, they were done, and he got his wish. They crawled into bed together and Spock turned out the lights.
Leonard sighed against his neck and kissed him there, gently and sleepily, clearly too tired to start any sexual activity that evening. “What’s your resolution, Spock?”
Spock considered for so long that he could feel Leonard drifting off to sleep. When he spoke, Leonard startled and shifted to look up at him. “I believe, Leonard, that I have never told you I love you.”
Leonard appeared to be holding his breath. “Oh?”
Spock leaned in and kissed him, hiking the blankets a little higher around their shoulders. “I love you,” he whispered against Leonard’s lips. “My resolution is to ensure that you never doubt that simple fact.”
“Spock,” Leonard murmured, voice rough with emotion. “Jesus, I–I could never forget. You know that I, well…It’s harder for me to say, but I…Really do. Love you, that is.” He chuckled sleepily.
Spock smiled, glad the reaction was hidden in the dark. “I know.” He kissed Leonard’s forehead and then down over his cheek, feeling a slight wetness there. “Sleep now. Tomorrow we will face the new year together.”
“Sounds perfect,” Leonard breathed, and fell asleep as Spock held him.