Feet shuffle, gaze, downwards. George is nerves because everything is still new. He knows he's asking a lot, a sense of normalcy. So if the answer is no, he'll understand. But he'd hate himself if he didn't ask. "Jim." He begins, hesitating before finding resolve. "I know life must be vastly different but I wanted to know if we could spend Thanksgiving together. You, me and Spock." He want's to say more, but short and sweet is better. George waits, hopeful.
“ george! ” he greets, searching the subtle twist of anxiety in the man’s face with a furrow of his eyebrows. the question, likely rehearsed on repeat, catches him unguarded just outside his quarters at the end of his shift, where george was waiting for him. a defensive glance cast over his shoulder reveals they are indeed alone, cause well, he and spock, they’re not exactly— public.he fills himself up with a deep breath, meant to expel the weird surge of embarrassment that slaps him like a wet towel.
thanksgiving: it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it, and what george’s return might mean as far as social expectations. he can’t even remember the last time he’d been around family for the holidays. sixteen? seventeen? must have been seventeen, when winona had accumulated enough shoreleave to all but require her compliance in returning to earth.
“ i don’know, i mean. got straight to the point huh? spock doesn’t exactly observe terran holidays, you know? i’d have to run it by him. make sure it’s not— odd? i guess? ” he pushes his tongue against the inside of his bottom lip. takes one long look at george’s face, and gives him this. jim’d been hard on him. maybe they both need it. a sigh— and a genuine smile, soft as it was.
“ but— that sounds nice, dad, we can do it right. turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberries and apple pie. we can uh, even watch the game. i’lll ask him, alright? ” he doesn’t bust out the old parental moniker very often, but now felt right.
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