Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Jim Kirk x Unknown
Words: 917

Summary:
Jim is pretty stubborn when it comes to his hot chocolate.

Note:
Thank you to @dirajunara for helping me make Scotty Scottish!

"I swear it's not the same, Scotty!" Jim's voice was getting louder and louder as he argued with the Chief Engineer over the quality of replicated hot chocolate.

"Ye're bein' ridiculous, Jim! The only difference between replicate' food and cooked food is the way it's made! There is nothin' wron' with yer replicator!"

"You can't convince me that synthesized food is exactly the same as food that has been made from produce, that has been sowed, have grown and matured, been harvested and prepared on a stove!"

"The molecules are-! Oh, forge' it! If you wannae hot chocolate, replicate' is what ye're getting', ye stubborn git!"

That was a year ago. There wasn't really anything to measure seasons by on a starship. No changing weather, every day the same routine. It was all the same. Except when it came to Christmas. That's when Captain James T. Kirk traded half of the coffee he drank, with hot chocolate. And he was adamant about the quality, insisting that even though replicators made perfect food, it just couldn't make hot chocolate the right way. That argument with Scotty happened every year.

It was now the middle of November and I was waiting for Jim's craving for hot chocolate to start up again. It was running a bit late. Until finally, the last Monday morning of November. He was wearing his black uniform trousers and his black boots, the yellow command shirt was slung over a shoulder, hair still tousled from sleep.

"I want hot chocolate," he said, staring down at the replicator in our quarters. But he pressed the button and told the machine, "Coffee, black," instead.

I was sitting on the bed pulling on my boots but paused to look at his slightly defeated shoulders as the machine hummed for a few seconds, then poured coffee into his mug. "I'm sorry, love," I said as I stood up and walked over to him. My arms snaked around his torso and I rested my head between his shoulders blades.

"I just really want hot chocolate like they make it on Earth," he mumbled and laid his hands on mine.

"I know. But you like the replicated version too, so just get that. I can take that coffee." I moved my head to kiss his shoulder blade.

He contemplated in silence for a few seconds, I could almost hear the gears turning in his head and the curses he was shouting at the machine inside his head. But then he took the coffee out from under it and set it on the counter, a new mug taking its place. "Hot chocolate," he requested. A few seconds later, a perfect light brown slightly steaming liquid filled the mug, and the delicious smell of chocolate filled the air.

I inhaled deeply. "Smells nice."

"It's just to fool you." Jim took the mug, blew lightly on it and took a sip. "Blah. It's not the same."

"Are you having that awful drink now?" Jim asked that same evening when he walked in. I had indeed made hot chocolate and was relaxing with that and a book.

"I am. I also prepared a cup for you."

"I already had one cup of betrayal today." He sounded like a petulant child.

I marked the page in my book and set it down, before pushing the old Starfleet Academy mug towards him on the table. "Try it, Jimmy. I promise you won't regret it."

He looked at me long and hard, as if I was asking him to launch himself out of a torpedo tube and he was wondering whether I was worth dying for.

"Please, sweetheart. Sit down and have a cup with me before bed." I patted the seat beside me on the couch. For good measure, I bat my eyelashes at him.

He groaned. "Fine. Fine." He kicked off his boots and came around the small table and sat down next to me. Then he reached for the cup and lifted it to his lips. All the while, I was staring, watching his every move. The moment the mug tipped and the warm liquid ran past his lips, his eyes bulged to the size of deflector dishes. "What is this?!" he asked, his tongue darting across his lips to taste whatever was lingering there. He stared in wonder at the contents of the mug, then whipped his head around to me. "What is this?"

I grinned. "Hot chocolate. Real hot chocolate."

"How did you do this?"

"I may have bought a huge stash of chocolate bars last summer when we visited Earth. And cocoa powder. And vanilla extract. And just a few minutes ago, I replicated sugar and warm milk, and I made this for us."

I had expected Jim to jump and scream with joy. But instead, he took another sip, a large one, savoured it and then set it and pulled me into a hug. "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you."

I chuckled against his neck. "You're welcome."

"I love you so much." His voice wavered slightly.

I pulled back and looked at him. There was a shine in his eyes. "I love you too, Captain."

Jim leaned in and kissed me. He moaned and his tongue darted out and ran over my bottom lip. I knew he was tasting the chocolate on me, and as I opened up to him, I tasted the chocolate on him too.