It was Jim Kirk, who told me to attend parties aboard ship.

While Christoper Pike was my Captain, he always accepted my need for privacy.

But not Jim Kirk. He came to me after the first party that took place under his command, and explained to me:

"Humans fear what they don't know, Mr. Spock.

Many crewmen are uncomfortable around you, because they don't really know you. In attending our parties you can show them that you care for them. This is important for them to know.

I want you to attend in the future, at least a little while."

He smiled at me then. And I found myself nodding agreement.

I could not deny him anything from the very first moment, when he smiled at me like that.

And I could see how easily he got the caring and even love from the crew. Captain Pike certainly was respected, but he never got that adoration that Jim Kirk got nearly from the beginning.

He made the crew know that he cared and they returned that in doing more that just their best to carry out his orders.

It is what makes them the best crew in Starfleet.

Since then, I attend. Today it is the fourth Christmas party and, as usual, I am standing by the wall in the back of the room, watching.

Earlier, Uhura asked me to play my lyre to accompany her singing. That has become a ritual during the years now. She did it the first time when I attended my second party aboard ship.

She stood in front of me, begging me not to deny her that wish with her eyes, and I looked over to my Captain, and saw the same wish in his eyes. I assume it was Jim, who told her about my playing the lyre in the first place.

He wanted to include me. He has several ways to do that, and it always gives me a strong sense of belonging. When I took my lyre and stepped to the middle of the room, he smiled.

I would do nearly everything to make him smile like that.

Today, after playing and returning to my place in the back of the room, Jim joins me. He stays at my side, a glass with a drink - his only drink during the evening - in one hand. In between he is dancing with everyone who askes him to - men and women.

But after the dance he comes back to me. This, too, has become a ritual.

He has friendly words for everyone who comes over to us. But he remains at my side,

involving me in the conversations. I learned a lot about "small talk" that way.

Now, Dr. McCoy joins us.

As usual, it is not the first drink he carries.

He is in teasing mode and we have one of our word-fights. These too, are ritual by now.

There is something strangely comforting in such rituals. They tell that everything is as it should be.

Jim watches us, smiling, sometimes laughing out loud. It is the highest reward if I can make him join the teasing. If he does, I allow myself to tease him back. It brings a certain light to his eyes that makes my heart jump. It requires all my Vulcan control not to let it show on my face. Nevertheless, I do it again and again. A dangerous ritual indeed.

Later, McCoy leaves us. He goes over to the other side of the room, to join Scotty and Chekov. They will drink in earnest now.

Someone has dimmed the lights, people

are dancing closer and there are a lot of people remaining under mistletoe, kissing.

I remember quite well when Dr. McCoy

explained *that* ritual to me for the first time. He said:

"Spock, if you don't want to be kissed in public you should make sure *not* to stand under mistletoe. This is an invitation, you know?"

I kept that in mind. I never remained

standing under mistletoe since then.

The talk gets louder, full of coulorful metaphors. Jim looks at me. Time to leave the party. Time to let the crew have their fun without the command team watching.

We leave the room side by side. We walk the corridors shoulder to shoulder, back to our quarters. There I join Jim for a late game of chess. We do that often at shift's end, but after a party, and especially at Christmas, I know he does not want to be alone. We play one game, than sit for a while, quietly enjoying the company of the other. That too, has become a ritual during the years.

Then I rise and say good night. Jim smiles at me, and says his good night too.

Very early the next morning I get up, and when I leave my cabin, I am in time to join him.

Since he took command of the Enterprise, this is his gift to the crew, that he goes and cleans the room after a party. I found out about that and since I know, I help him. I am content to work at his side, no matter what that work is.

In those early hours it is just the two of us.

I will not miss this opportunity.

So here we are, moving around the room, picking up empty plates, glasses and paper wrappings from the floor. I have just picked up a piece of garment. I frown.

"Jim, look at this...."

He looks up, and a strange expressions crosses his face. I believe it is because of the bra I hold in my hand, but when he moves over he remains standing in front of me. Very close.

Our bodies nearly touching, his face in front of mine.

My breath catches in my throat.

He puts his hand on my neck. He leans forward and touches my lips with his. It is a feather light touch, cool, tender...

He retreats. His hands drop to his sides and he averts his eyes.

"You were standing under misteltoe..."

he mumbles, apologizing.

He starts to move away.

"Jim..." my voice sounds strange to my own ears.

He stops. Turns back to me. Looks into my eyes. I see his eyes widen slightly. His lips parting a little.

"Spock...?"

"I... still stand under mistletoe..."

The End.