Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek, I'm sure someone would have let me know by now.

AN: Written for a 5 Times prompt. 5 Times Amanda attempted to celebrate Earth holidays with Sarek and Spock, and the one time they surprised her.

I should preface this story as I did on the prompt: in my personal fanon Amanda's not some stranded house-wife on an alien world. Since it's super easy to communicate almost anywhere on the planet now, I can't imagine that she'd just cut herself off from Earth entirely. Also: Jeff is my OMC brother of Amanda Grayson, just...FYI.

New Year's.

For as long as Spock could cohesively remember, which was quite a considerable span of his life, his mother had always celebrated inexplicable occasions. The days on which she practiced them were hardly of note and very infrequently did she celebrate on the same day the next year. Of those many strange and scattered occasions, the one he became the most rapidly acquainted with was the celebration of one calendar year passing into the next. In fact, one of his earliest memories was of this particular celebration.

"Should old acquaintance be forgot, and ne'er brought to mind?" Amanda sung softly as she swirled a replicated flute of light amber liquid. Her glass bubbled and Spock watched her as she tabbed through the feeds on the wall display until she'd found the one she was looking for.

A place Spock didn't recognize appeared on the screen—it was dark there, though the sensors managed to pick up the gentle myriad of subdued lighting and the reflected glow of the screen itself. The room was full of humans, packed tightly and clad in metallic hats—much like the one his mother had perched on his own head—and carrying noise-making instruments—much like the ones she'd attempted to hand his father. His father had declined and gone to meditate.

A man with unruly dark hair appeared in front of the sensor—Spock backed up against his seat reflexively as the large face eclipsed the scene. His eyes were wide, his cheeks red, and his chin was covered in untamed, lengthy hair. Spock furrowed his brow and warily watched the man as he grinned and struck the side of his glass with his fingers. The dull, off-key sound attracted the attention of the room, and he bellowed at them jovially.

"Hey—Got her'—Mandi's on and her little one too!" The humans let out various sounds—loud and moderately shrill—as they waved at the screen. Spock was not sure what to make of them and was relieved when their collective eyes were blotted out by the strange man.

"Good to see you, Jeff," Amanda interrupted and Spock's eyes traveled from the screen to her. He had never seen that particular expression on his mother before—she had a broad, wry grin and an eyebrow arched as high as it would go. Her hip was jutted out and she balanced her drink-arm's elbow on it as she drummed her fingers on the wall. "How's the lag?"

The man on the screen was unmoving just long enough that Spock was certain his mother was going to repeat herself. His eyes traveled back and forth from the screen to her at least twice in the interim. Finally, the man's smile split his face again and he stepped back a bit from the sensors. He was very broad and clad in very distasteful, patterned clothing. Spock wondered the merits of a silver jacket and decided to ask his mother about it later.

"Not too bad—only about seven seconds, or so it says." A woman pushed up from behind him and waved her fingers at the screen.

"Oh he's just adorable, Mandi—I could eat him right up!" The woman was very focused on Spock and Spock's eyes widened slightly as she flashed a small, too sharp smile at him.

"It's okay, sweetheart," his mother interrupted the woman as she exuberantly explained the party. Amanda was smiling gently and inclined her head toward the screen. "It's a euphemism. It means she likes you." Somewhere during the exchange, the woman on the screen went from talking to watching them—her heavily painted lips transformed into a concerned frown and the burly man clapped her on the back as he started laughing.

"You scared him Jen! Give the poor kid a break!"

"Oh, Mandi, I'm sorry! Came on a bit strong, I think," the woman added and shoved the burly man in the chest as he wrapped his arm around her. His mother turned back to the screen and smiled.

"It's fine—don't worry about it, Janette," Amanda commented easily and her eyes darted to the clock. The chronometer on the display was ticking down with atomic accuracy, but she still managed to ask, "How much longer?"

Seven seconds later, the man lifted his drink-arm and glanced at his wristwatch. "A little more than five—say, where's that pointy-eared stick-in-the-sand husband of yours?"

"Meditating," Amanda answered and laughed, "It's the middle of July here, you know."

"Mother," Spock interrupted and Amanda turned to him in surprise, "I do not know July—are we celebrating it?"

"No sweetheart," Amanda stepped back from the wall and to the side of his chair—the man on the screen had just started a retort as she did so. By the time she reached the chair, the majority of the humans in the room were laughing genially—the man and woman included. "It's the change of the year on Earth, we're celebrating that."

"Oh, Mandi, he's just fantastic!" The man commented and Amanda smiled at him as she set her free hand on Spock's shoulder. His predominant question answered, Spock returned to his observations. The man on the screen continued his speech, but was interrupted as the woman clapped him on the shoulder and pointed out the chronometer on the far wall. As a second display in the room lit up—it was displaying an even larger crowd gathered beneath a holographic sphere of light—his mother perched on the arm of his chair and tapped his hat.

"So," she explained, "when that ball reaches the bottom and touches the ground, it's the new year. We're supposed to count down and, when it goes dark, you're supposed to give your date a very big kiss."

"I will...kiss a...day?" Spock asked and stared at his mother as though she'd come unhinged. How she managed to keep from laughing, in retrospect, Spock didn't know. She merely shook her head and indicated the crowd on the screen. Everyone in the room was standing significantly closer to the person next to them—the whole group had divided into pairs.

"Since your father wants nothing to do with this," Amanda explained and Spock looked back at her. "You're my date—is that acceptable, Spock?"

Spock paused and watched as the group cheered—the ball went up to the top of its support and the entire gathering was fixated on the far display. He turned back to his mother and regarded her with even curiosity. "Yes," he answered and Amanda smiled. The group on the television began to count and, as they reached seven he pushed himself up out of his chair and pressed his lips against his mother's cheek. She let out a surprised sound and blinked down at him.

"Oh—what was that?" Amanda questioned, her eyes bright and amused. Spock took some pleasure in the fact that she was happier now than when the burly man had appeared on screen. As the numbers counted by, she frowned and laughed. "Oh! The display is seven seconds late! How smart you are!"

Spock understood that his mother knew more than her first repetition of numbers—but he felt warm under her praise. When the crowd reached zero, she placed an exuberant kiss on his forehead and let him try some of her drink—it was dry and bitter. He did not enjoy his sip.