Captains also have to be nice




Fandom: Star Trek TOS/Sci-Fi

Pairing: K/S

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Jim gets what he deserves, but from whom?

Disclaimer: The characters in this story don’t belong to me. I only borrowed them for some fun. No moneymaking, and no violation of copyrights is intended. The story is mine, and it is just fanfiction. If you are under age, please stay away. If you have a problem with this topic, then look elsewhere for your entertainment.


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Beta: English is not my native language, so please be patient with my mistakes. PhenDog did a really great job correcting my errors. My greatest gratitude to her. For all remaining errors, blame me.




He smelled the aroma of the needles – they had decorated the tree this afternoon - and also of the cookies – mom had baked some hours ago – as little Jimmy carefully climbed down the stairway in the dark. Actually, he should be in bed and sleep, but he just wasn’t able to sleep the night before Christmas. Especially now, because he had heard some suspicious noises. That just had to be Santa Claus, bringing his presents. He loved to get presents so very much. And he wanted to have them now. 


“James T. Kirk, you are not a nice boy!” the boisterous voice let him wince. 


Captain Kirk sat upright in his bed and squinted when the last remainders of his dream – a nice memory of his childhood at home on the farm in Iowa – gone away. But the boisterous voice didn’t fade. He realised it didn’t belonged to the dream but to that guy with the red cap and coat and the white beard that he saw in the dim night illumination standing in front of his bed. 


Red coat? White beard? Shouldn’t that tell him something? Santa Claus! Santa Claus stood in front of his bed?  Impossible!  He still must be dreaming. Santa Claus didn’t exist! And he was to old to be still believing in him. 


“Light on!” Jim ordered. The stranger didn’t disappear as his cabin became more brightly lit, but somehow he looked vaguely familiar now. Wasn’t there swung eyebrows looking out the red cap? 


“Spock, is that  you?” Jim asked, confused. 


“I am Santa Claus,” the stranger emphasised, but, in spite of the changed voice, Jim was certain it was the Vulcan in front of him. Who else could have been able to come unseen and at night into his cabin, through locked doors (only the one to the bath he shared with Spock was open) and without triggering the alarm?  Only the true Santa Claus – and he didn’t exist.


“What is this masquerade about?” Jim asked, slightly upset about the disturbance of his sleep. Okay, he had told Spock he should get more familiar with old Earth customs, but did he have to exaggerate things that much?  And where the hell had he found that costume on board the ship? 


Santa Claus pulled a book out of his sack. He also had a sack. Jim began reluctantly to admire Spock’s ingenuity and original faithfulness. But did he have to wake him in the middle in the night for that? The next day would have done as well. He really was exhausted from doing all the things that had to be settled by the end of the year – especially too long delayed reports. And tomorrow – or more accurately today, as it surely already was after midnight – the Christmas celebration with the crew was scheduled. The celebrations on the Enterprise were a well-known and famous legend, for which Jim always felt personally responsible, so he had had lots to do lately.


He wanted to accelerate things a little bit and go back to sleep. “Do you have a present for me, Santa?” he asked with twinkling eyes; he still loved to get gifts.


“James T. Kirk, over the last year you have not always behaved nicely,” Santa Claus ranted 


“Didn’t I? “ Jim asked back. “Can you give me an example?”


Santa leafed in his book. “You embarrassed your t’hy’la because you were flirting with strange women.”


“Hey, that was only in for the cause of our missions,“ Jim defended himself. “It has never happened otherwise. And, if you are jealous, why don’t you just tell me and then I stop?“


“You do not live according your nourishment plans,” the other continued without reacting to Jim’s objection. 


“Have you conceived this ‘game’ together with Bones?“ Jim asked back. 


Again, he did not get an answer. “You do not always follow the directions of the Federation and Starfleet.”


Jim just rolled with his eyes. 


“You often bring yourself unnecessarily in danger, frightening your friends with your actions.”


“Okay, okay,” Jim defended himself. “I understand. Let us bring this to an end. What do you want from me? Shall I recite a poem? Sing a song?”


“You deserve the rod,” was the boisterous return. 

And before Jim really realised it, he had received a strong blow on his back. 


He instantly burst out of the bed. “Ouch! That’s enough! You are over doing it, Spock!”


“I think more than one blow would be appropriate for your offences.“


Again the rod was lifted.  Jim backed back against the wall. “Enough!” he said. “Or shall I make it an order, Mr. Spock?”


“I am Santa Claus, I do not take orders from anyone,” his attacker answered indignantly. 


Jim sighed. “You are really exaggerate, darling,” he noted. “Please tell me what you want so that I can get back to sleep.”


“Do you promise to behave better next year?” the deep voice asked.  “Not to flirt so much, to follow your diet, and to be more careful and considerate with all your actions?”


Jim nodded. “I promise.”


“Well, you also did much good for your people and many others. So you will be forgiven but be warned, I will observe you further.”


“Okay, okay,” Jim mumbled. 


“Then you should have your gift,” Santa pulled something out the sack.  


As Jim accepted the packet, he was not able to resist his curiosity.  He really loved gifts. Impatiently he removed the bow and packaging; then he held an antique book in his hands, one he had longed after for a long time. 


“Spock, thank...” Jim looked up, and cut himself off himself. His cabin was empty. 




“You were a convincing Santa Claus, darling. You should play the part at our Christmas-celebration.  But I’m tempted to be upset with you because of the blow with the rod,” Jim said as Spock entered his cabin five minutes later through the bathroom. He now wore a black gown that made him look very sexy, at least in Jim’s opinion. 


“Santa Claus? I do not understand?” Spock lifted both eyebrows. 


“Oh, come on! Stop the game. I recognised you, of course.” Jim climbed out the bed, embraced Spock and kissed him. “Thank you very much for the book. It really wasn’t necessary to make me such a valuable gift, but I love it of course.”


Spock looked somewhat irritated at the book that lay on Jim’s night table. “I did not give this to you,” he said. “I wanted to give my present to you after the celebration.“


“You have not?” Now Jim also was somewhat confused. The book was obviously there; he could not have dreamed the whole episode. And who else would have played Santa Claus on him? Bones? Impossible; the physician would have betrayed himself after two minutes with shaking from laughing. That was sure. Another crew member? No, that would make no sense. Why should someone have done this? It was Spock, period!  But obviously he wanted to play it further. 


“Darling, it’s so sweet of you that you want to give me joy with celebrating old earthly Christmas-traditions.  But you can really admit it.”


Spock shook his head. “T’hy’la, I assure you, I was in the laboratory until exactly 5.67 minutes ago. The computer can confirm that. After that I returned on direct way into my cabin, changed clothes and came to you.  I did, however, not give you this book, and I was  previously not in this cabin.“


Jim stared at him. Spock did sound so convincing. And Vulcans did not lie, did they? “Have you really not been here? Dressed as Santa Claus?” he asked. 




“But who was it then?” Jim thought aloud. “It just can’t have been... no, impossible... or? Santa Claus? Does he exist?”


“There are more things between sky and earth than you may think,” Spock quoted.  And in his dark eyes there was for a brief moment a suspicious glimmering when he kissed Jim.