the Dalaverse

So here's my space_wrapped fic for this year. Still not feeling entirely up to the holidays, but I do enjoy this particular tradition.


Title: Let Your Heart Be Light
Author: Dala
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1375
Summary: written for this prompt: 'Christmas isn't a holiday either of them like (divorce happened, Jim's father, etc.). While on board the Enterprise, other crew members are brimming with holiday spirit. They are swept up and realize Christmas isn't that bad.'
Content Advisory: none
Disclaimer: standard applies, title from "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane



Let Your Heart Be Light


It was midway through December in their first year at the Academy when Jim and Leonard discovered they both hated the holidays. In Leonard’s case, it went back to his father’s firm belief that Christmas was either about God or crass commercialism and McCoys believed in neither. He’d celebrated with Jocelyn when they were first married, following her lead and mumbling the carols, but it was mostly a halfhearted attempt to appease her Methodist family. David had actually first gotten sick in winter; by the following December he was gone and Leonard was finalizing his divorce. The whole month was pretty much a bust, as far as he was concerned.

Jim was Jewish on his mother’s side, but she didn’t practice and he couldn’t remember ever celebrating a religious holiday. Then, of course, there was his January birthday. While Winona always got him a cake and gave him a birthday kiss first thing in the morning, she couldn’t stand being anywhere near people or newscasts for a good two weeks otherwise. So Jim, with all the seriousness of a seven-year-old, had informed her that he didn’t care about his birthday and didn’t want anything special. Winona held him tight and breathed an apology against his brow, but after that she was always the first to volunteer for short-range research missions over the holidays.

In lieu of celebrating, the two of them holed up in Leonard’s dorm room with a bottle of bourbon -- even the worst dive bars put up a garland or two this time of year -- and got so thoroughly drunk Leonard almost slept through his Christmas morning shift at the clinic. They did the same thing the next two years. Leonard wouldn’t call it a tradition, exactly, but it was about the closest he figured they’d get…at least until Jim took command of the Enterprise.

He got it, he really did -- they’d been out in space for ten months, out of direct face-to-face comm range for two, and folks were missing their homes and families. All the research had proven that encouraging personnel to maintain cultural practices was vital to shipboard morale. Given the high percentage of Earth-raised humans (and non-humans, for that matter), it made sense for command to host official celebrations of the popular winter holidays.

Leonard simply didn’t see why he personally had to be involved with any of it.

It all just seemed like overkill. Handmade decorations, tinsel, caroling, ruining perfectly good liquor by making it insufferably sweet -- and that wasn’t even covering the health hazards. Kevin Riley nearly burned down Rec Room Four trying to get a Yule log burning. Jim was forced to airlock Sulu’s supply of wreaths when they sprouted carnivorous fronds and attacked several crewmembers (“they looked just like pine, sir, how could I have known?”). Thankfully the four big trees were fake, but an ensign still broke her leg trying to put a star just right on top of one. And the germs -- it would be a wonder if half the crew weren’t down with Rigellian flu by January. Leonard tried to ban mistletoe outright, but Jim overruled him. The argument was apparently very amusing to everyone who’d witnessed it in the mess; Gaila managed to sneak some above the door to the his office and laid one on him in front of his whole staff.

Okay, so maybe he could put up with that one absurd superstition (and she was definitely the only person onboard who could pull off a fuzzy Santa hat, not that he would ever admit it). Still, by the time the twenty-fourth rolled around, he’d had more than his fill of Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Advent, Solstice, Festivus, and whatever damn thing had Scotty painting himself blue and running naked through the halls hollering about whisky and feet. He was actually looking forward to his and Jim’s annual escape from the madness and bottle of Woodford Reserve. It would be hard to top the previous year when they’d spent the entire day in bed, having just recently worked out an extremely beneficial friends-with-benefits deal, but Leonard figured that all things considered, he needed this respite more than ever before.

He took an unexpected detour and got back to their quarters later than he expected; still, he was a little miffed when the door slid open on a darkened room. True, Jim had been busy putting in appearances at all the festivities, but they’d had a plan for tonight and it didn’t include falling asleep before he’d poured the first glass.

After a moment he realized the room was dim, not fully dark. As he tracked the faint glow to the bedroom, Jim called softly, “In here, Bones.“

Ducking around the partition, he blinked as he took in the sight. There were a couple of candles flickering on the nightstand and a few more on the bookcase. Jim was sitting cross-legged on the bed, dressed in pajama pants. The warm candlelight cast shadows over the pale skin of his chest and brought out threads of gold in his hair.

Despite the sudden catch in his throat, Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you why improperly contained flames are against regulation?”

“What good’s being captain if you can’t flout the rules every now and then?” Jim’s mouth quirked up in a grin, and damned if his lips didn’t look ridiculously kissable by candlelight.

Leonard perched on the edge of the bed, inhaling the scent of burning wax and something faintly spicy. “What’s all this about?”

It wasn’t easy to see Jim blush in this light, but he glanced down and rubbed the back of his neck like he always did when he was embarrassed. “You know I’ve never been crazy about all this holiday stuff, but I’ve been making the rounds, talking to people.” Leonard nodded as he toed his boots off. He knew Jim had been especially interested in talking to Chekov and Rand, given that his only exposure to that part of his heritage was receiving a handful of gelt from a teacher in grade school.

“I‘m not saying I believe in any of it, or even that I understand all the traditions,” Jim continued in a thoughtful tone, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “But the one theme that seems to be constant is light in the darkness, and I like that.”

“When you put it that way,“ Leonard said, reaching out to lay his hand over Jim’s ankle, “I kinda like it too.” To his surprise he meant it; but even if he hadn’t, Jim’s smile would have convinced him.

They sat like that for a moment before Leonard sighed and pushed himself up. “Hang on a sec,” he said in response to Jim’s frown of confusion. He retrieved what he’d set down on the desk on his way in and settled next to Jim against the headboard.

“Here,” he muttered, dropping the plate in Jim’s lap.

Jim laughed, picking at the plastic wrap. “Bones, these are Christmas cookies. You going soft on me?”

Leonard’s scowl lacked any kind of heat and he knew it. “Shut up.” He shoved a green-sprinkled sugar cookie into Jim’s mouth and was gratified by instant quiescence. He’d have to ask Spock for the recipe.

“Perfect,” Jim sighed around a mouthful of crumbs. “This is a holiday ritual I could definitely get used to.”

“Mmmm,” Leonard agreed, reaching first for an iced gingerbread man and then for the bottle and glasses on the nightstand. He nearly fumbled it all when Jim suddenly flailed beside him.

“Jim, what the fuck?”

Rising up on his knees, Jim fixed Leonard with a look of puckish glee. “Almost forgot -- Gaila convinced me that this was a pretty awesome tradition too.” He slid the flannel pants over his hips. There was a spray of small white berries pinned to the waistband of his briefs.

"Unbelievable," Leonard remarked to the ceiling, shaking his head and taking a healthy swallow.

Jim pouted, doing a little shimmy and making the mistletoe bounce. "Aww, c'mon, Bones, don't you want a little holiday spirit in you? Well, not little..."

For that Leonard tackled him to the bed, removing the bourbon to safety in the same swift motion.