The rain always reminded Spock of family.
Rain was a rare occasion on Vulcan, needing precise conditions that took many months to get right. Normally, the arid conditions of the planet prevented the water vapor in the air from collecting long enough to form even the slightest drizzle. But once or twice every year, when the temperatures cooled ever so slightly, the clouds would gather, the skies would gray, and the rain would pour. It was strange and beautiful and even the eldest residents of Shi'Khar city would stop and take notice.
Spock's family was no different.
He remembered waiting by the window on his tip-toes, fingers curled around the sill, eyes wide and glued to the sky. As the first clap of thunder echoed off the mountains, Spock would dart down the halls, skidding to a stop at the back door.
His mother would lead him onto their balcony, protected from the rain by the canopy overhead. Together, they would sit and watch the storm roll in; Spock curled against his mother's side, her fingers idly carding through his hair. His father would stand in the doorway, doing his best to act as if his interest was solely on his wife and child. But Spock knew, could see the faint flicker of wonder deep in his dark eyes.
With each storm came a chance for their bond to strengthen, brought together by their silent awe. And when the clouds parted and the blazing sun reappeared, Spock felt fuller, more loved and alive than ever before.
It rained far more often in San Francisco, but the rainy days never ceased to fill Spock with that same warmth.
Those same claps of thunder he'd heard a lifetime ago lead him to his own back porch that day, to Jim sitting beneath the shelter of their awning. Spock watched his mate rock back and forth in their porch swing, cradling their son to his chest. Their Grayson watched the sky with large and wondrous blue eyes, the wind flicking the waves of his blue-black hair around his faintly pointed ears.
He slipped onto the swing beside Jim, the corners of his lips tugging up as he shift Grayson from one side to the other. Jim held their son with one arm, the other slipping around Spock's shoulders. He leaned in closer, draping an arm across Jim's chest to rub at Grayson's back.
Spock cherished the moments, reliving the warmth and love he felt as a child. And if he closed his eyes long enough, he swore he could feel his mother once more, the whipping wind becoming her lithe fingers and the sweet, wet smell registering as her musky perfume.
Spock loved the rain.