Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek, someone would have told me by now.

A/N: Just a cute little short--Spock's had a bad day, and wakes his mother up in the middle of the night.


Amanda frowned as she watched her son linger in the doorway of the master bedroom. The lights were dimmed lower than Vulcan tolerance, but she could see him just fine in the low lighting. His head was dipped down, an obvious attempt to hide his face from her, and his shoulders were slumped as he leaned toward the threshold. Something in Spock's hesitation spoke of his father and Amanda nearly sighed—the two had great difficulty interacting, despite willingness on both sides, and the problems had only escalated in the short while since Spock had entered his public education.

"Spock," Amanda called gently and she watched as his shoulders jumped blatantly. His head shot up and his eyes darted to her—he couldn't see her, but he knew where she was.

"Mother," Spock prefaced, his voice very small, "I did not mean to wake you, I am sorry."

"I was already awake," Amanda assured him from halfway across the room as she sat up. As though suddenly aware of his actions, Spock stepped into the room and hesitated—his eyes darted to Sarek's side of the bed, he didn't know it was empty—before continuing until he bumped into the mattress. Amanda watched him and was glad he couldn't make out the smile that his blind travels elicited from her. "Come here," she added and tapped the side of the bed.

Spock's eyes darted across the space where the bed resided, as though he could not identify the source of the sound or the area she indicated, and he frowned openly. Amanda repeated the motion and, after careful consideration on her son's part, he moved around the perimeter of the furniture toward where she lay. He navigated via his hand on the bedspread and pulled back sharply when his fingers came into contact with her arm. He frowned and looked down at his feet--or, at least, in the general direction of the floor.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" Amanda prompted quietly and leaned toward him.

"I am unable to sleep," Spock responded in that same small voice he'd used earlier. "My thoughts are..." he paused to consider the correct word. "Loud," he concluded softly and folded his hands before him.

"Do you want me to tuck you in?" Amanda asked before she caught herself—the colloquialism slid over Spock and his shoulders rolled in an unconscious imitation of her own shrugs. It was a movement he would not have allowed himself in Sarek's presence.

"I am calmer when I am near to you," he admitted and his head darted up, "and father," he added swiftly.

"Ah," Amanda responded as the situation dawned on her. Before Spock could continue his explanation of his actions, Amanda turned and slid her arms beneath his. His pajamas bunched as she lifted him and pulled him into her lap. Spock was heavy—too heavy for her—but he was also only four years of age and very much in need of this kind of comfort...whether anyone would admit it or not. Spock was frowning at her when she looked down at him—obviously he disapproved of this—but he'd not stiffened at all when she scooped him up, nor did he struggle as she hugged him and swept his legs under the blankets.

"This is ina...inappro," Spock flushed, Amanda could feel the heat of his face against her collarbone even if she couldn't see the green tint in the half light, and was silent briefly as he considered his words, "Father would disapprove."

"Oh," Amanda commented conversationally and rubbed a small circle on Spock's back with her thumb as she hugged him. "I know." Spock was silent and Amanda could feel his very subtle movement as he tried to place his ear above her heart. "Do you know what he would say?" Spock stiffened slightly but relaxed after a few seconds.

"I cannot predict that," Spock replied evenly and Amanda almost laughed.

"He would tell you," Amanda supplied genially, "that this course of action is very, very illogical. That you should meditate, as the comfort of your mother is not always accessible or appropriate." She took a deep breath and leaned back against the headboard of her bed. "He would then tell me," Amanda continued, "that I am encouraging you to be dependent and undoing all the work you've done in your school training."

"Mother," Spock began quietly, with a lilt that told her he was about to disagree. She shushed him and pulled the blankets up to his chin and her shoulders.

"And he would be right," Amanda added and, at this, Spock hugged her tighter for a fraction of a second. "Except that, I know that you know all of this," Amanda spoke slowly and Spock remained silent, "and something as simple as this," she shifted her arms around Spock, "isn't going to ruin all your hard work."

Silence reigned between them for several seconds before Spock spoke up, "Of course." He made to push away from her, and Amanda shook her head. She shifted in the bed, lying down on her side, and took Spock with her. Once she'd all but cocooned him in the blankets and her arms, she heard his muffled protest against her pillow. "Mother, I should return to my room."

"No," Amanda answered, "Since your father is going to be meditating all night, I need someone to help warm up this bed." Just as she drifted off, she heard Spock mutter something about how his remaining was therefore logical, and she hoped he wasn't offended by her short laugh.

Amanda awoke several hours later, just as dawn was creeping through the windows, and found Sarek staring down at her. She turned to face him and he arched an eyebrow before looking pointedly at Spock. Spock was curled into a ball of blankets with only the ruffled crown of his head sticking out. He looked absolutely comfortable and had moved in the night to occupy the dead center of Sarek's section of the bed. Amanda stifled a laugh before she looked back at her husband.

"So you didn't come to bed, then?" Amanda prompted very softly, despite the unlikelihood that hers or Sarek's voices would rouse the deeply slumbering child. Sarek stared at her mildly.

"If you insist on sharing your bed," Sarek stated evenly, "we will need more space."

"Don't tease," Amanda chimed back at him, but the smile on her face was incongruous with the light bite to her words. "It's far too early for that," she added with a short yawn.

"Indeed," Sarek agreed to nothing in particular and his gaze fell on the Spock-ball again. "The other children are unwilling to interact with him in a non-confrontational manner."

"I'm not surprised," Amanda answered and Sarek continued to stare at the blankets. "He's different, that never goes over well with children."

"You are encouraging him to be dependent," Sarek stated flatly and Amanda's smile visibly confused him as he turned back to regard her.

"He's different," Amanda repeated," He needs to be treated differently."

"Vague," Sarek complained as he folded his hands behind his back, "but appropriately logical." He stared at her for a long time and Amanda couldn't help but get the feeling that he was put out because he'd been unable to garner the same physical contact she'd given to Spock last night. With a smile, Amanda held out two fingers and Sarek (almost eagerly) answered her motion with his own. After a short time, he removed his fingers from hers and his expression seemed lighter. When he left the room, Amanda looked from the doorway to her son and she shook her head.

"Vulcans," she proclaimed softly and rolled her eyes.