"Where shall we begin?" Spock mused.
"Well, this is Jim's..." McCoy picked up one box and freed it of its packaging. Inside the box was a beautiful abstract sculpture of two entertwined hearts, green and red.
"I did not know he was a conniseur of modern art," Spock commented. They placed the touching art piece on their bedside table.
Hours later, deep in the throes of tangled, sweaty ecstasy, neither man noticed the sculpture open slightly, revealing a tiny transmitting camera.
"Trust him to pick the most unusual gift," said McCoy, lifting up an old-fashioned birdcage. Inside was a blue and gold macaw, who blinked at them and clawed the bars. "Aaaawrk!"
"Fascinating," Spock observed.
"Aaaawrk! Who's a bonnie lass?" the bird screeched in reply.
"That's real cute," McCoy cooed. "It'll be fun to show her off tomorrow."
But by the next morning, the macaw had unfortunately learned some new phrases: "Hot holy Tuesdays, that feels damn good!", "Lick me like a homemade ice cream sundae", and, of course, "Illogical."
"I do not think your behavior is appropriate."
"And why not, ya tightassed Vulcan?" McCoy groused. "Can't you see I'm having fun?"
"These particular adornments," Spock explained in a low growl, "are intended to be worn over the *naked* body."
Spock handed over the next of their wedding gifts. "It is an electronic book," he reported when he had removed the crimson paper, "from Mr. Chekov. The card says that he has selected it specially to honor our same-sex bonding. It was written hundreds of years ago, when homosexuality was persecuted across the planet Earth. According to Chekov, this book was written by a famous Russian man who was jailed for his forward-thinking ways and alternative sexuality."
"Russian?" McCoy asked, curious. "Who's the author?"
Spock read from the disc. "Oskar Ilyich Wildov."
"A gift from someone called 'Tempest'," said Spock. "She is the leader of a group of creative writers, and she wanted to wish us well on the day of our bonding. Apparently, our romance is the topic of several hundred works of fiction."
McCoy's mouth hung open for a moment, then he shut it and smiled. "And one very magnificent piece of fact."
"Restraints?" Spock stared into the box. "Does she believe I intend to harm you?"
"There's a whip in there, too." McCoy pointed. "And--what's that?"
"I believe it is called a 'ball gag'."
"You interested in trying any of that... stuff?"
"Possibly, Leonard, but only with your mutual interest."
They both looked at McCoy's bulging crotch. "Well." He smiled. "But I don't understand why Christine would give us this stuff."
"Perhaps she is attempting to ensure that we will soon visit her in Sickbay," Spock said wryly.
"Oh, that's from Rand and Sulu," said McCoy, reclining on the sofa with a drink. He would have preferred continuing to unwrap their wedding gifts in the morning, but Spock's compulsiveness prevailed. "What's inside?"
"It is a Rigellian concoction designed to promote the longevity of complicated hairstyles," said Spock, reading from the canister.
"Figures, if it's from Janice," McCoy muttered. "Why would they give us hair cream? We've both got short, simple hair."
"There is a handwritten note from Mr. Sulu," Spock added. "Apparently, it also increases the longevity of certain conjugal pleasures."
"Apparently, someone has sent us another pet," said Spock.
They approached the basket and read the card. "From... Lyrastar," said McCoy. "Who's that?"
"I do not recall," said Spock, trying not to think about that incredible night on Risa.... no! Bonded! Parted and never parted. "What sort of animal did she give us, Leonard?"
"It's a dog! Cute doggy. Look at the doggy," McCoy gushed, in perfect baby-talk. He picked it up, and it licked his nose. "Takes after you, Spock!"