Spock awoke as the dim light of dawn began to peek through the curtains. Nyota, who had again nested herself with both pillows (How had she taken his again?) and most of the blankets, slept peacefully. He rolled quietly off the bed, careful to minimize his movement, and walked to a corner of the room for meditation. Lighting a small candle, he focused on the flame, gathering his thoughts before embarking on contemplation.

He had much to contemplate. The stimulating sights, sounds, and interactions—even the food—at the party demanded interpretation and order. Which behaviors fell under the purview of Halloween, and which represented his cousins' traits and personalities? What had he learned from this experience? He settled into his posture, beginning the measured breaths that ushered him deeper into his own mind, then refocused himself more intently on the flame before finally closing his eyes.

He found it was difficult to analyze his experiences objectively. Indulging his human half last night had altered his perceptions. Now it was difficult to filter out the emotional aspects from the dispassionate assessment of his relatives and their interactions with him. Identifying the signs, aspects, and stages of non-professional relationships was not his strong point. At the Academy, he had not recognized the true nature of his own developing relationship with Nyota until she, exasperated and impatient after experiencing a life-threatening episode, bluntly outlined her feelings for him and the feelings she suspected that he had for her. Only then had he realized the type of "attachment" he had.

Since then, with Nyota's help, he had become more practiced at recognizing the cues and behaviors involved in developing platonic and romantic affiliations. Brilliant as he was intellectually, he remained uncomfortable making such determinations, as they often depended on his underdeveloped ability to read emotional subtleties.

Even though he believed that he and his cousins had found an affinity, he had been wrong about such things before. Many times humans smiled and professed one viewpoint while thinking another. His mother had called them, including some in her extended family, "snakes in the grass." But none of the Graysons at the party were among those that Amanda had named as such.

The Grayson cousins had treated him much as Margaret and Allen did. They did not appear uncomfortable around him. They shared their stories openly and enthusiastically. As the party had progressed, they teased him in the same manner as they teased each other. No one had made any snide comments that he overheard—and rarely had he attended a social gathering without hearing two or three about his appearance, heritage, or mannerisms. On the contrary, his cousins insisted on drawing him into their conversations and activities. Again, he wondered: Was this what it was like to belong? Did he belong?

A couple hours passed, and his meditations remained unsettled as human doubt and Vulcan reason conflicted. Finally he had to set his thoughts aside until he could gather more data on the matter. He brought himself back to full consciousness as the pile of blankets over Nyota's figure stirred.

One of her hands reached to his side of the bed to find him gone. Blankets flying, she sat up with a start. "Spock?"

She looked around, finally spotting him in the corner. He slowly opened his eyes, which met hers.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were meditating."

"I have finished," he said, getting up and returning to the bed. Nyota broke into a wide smile, pleased to see him. Her mood was infectious, and he set aside his doubts for the moment. He almost smirked as he stole back his pillow and reclined upon it as if to claim it, and he allowed her to see accusation in his eyes.

She laughed, realizing she had taken his pillow sometime during the night, which was typical. He was cute when he was mildly annoyed. Maybe more than mildly, as he reached over to steal back some more of the covers as well. His eyes glinted, challenging her to try and take them back.

"Oh, no, I'm not getting into another tug-of-war with you!" she declared. "I have a better idea." She moved closer to him, touching her forehead to his. "See? If we're close enough, we can share."

"In theory, yes," he stated. He sunk down further into his pillow and gathered the blankets around them. "Your nocturnal habits, however, do not suggest a proclivity for sharing."

She laughed. She could not deny it. This was not their first conversation on this topic, nor would it be the last.

"I had fun last night," she said, deliberately changing the subject. "Your cousins are great. What did you think of them?"

Objectively, he had an answer. "They were consistent with Mother's descriptions," he said.

"And how did she describe them?"

"She described them as hospitable and engaging. She noted their commitment to and excellence in a wide range of professions and pursuits. These traits were consistent throughout the group."

She rolled her eyes. "Spock, you make them sound like lab rats. What did you think of them personally?"

She was fishing for an emotion-based assessment. He did not have one, not one that he wanted to voice. "They were agreeable."

"Just 'agreeable'?"

In describing physical characteristics or professional profiles, Spock could go on ad infinitum, reciting every little detail. When describing personalities, Spock tended to be brief and to the point, so Nyota had not expected him to say much. Here he was holding back, even for him, and she was not sure why. She let the silence between them grow. It was always best to take uncomfortable discussions at his pace.

"Nyota, were their manners genuine?"

Hmm, thought Nyota, that was an interesting question. "Yes, they were. Why do you ask that?"

He looked away. "I am not adept at reading the nuances of human expressions in social environments. I do not wish to misinterpret them."

She realized what he could not ask himself. "Are you wondering whether they liked you?"

His expression remained unchanged, and he seemed to withdraw into his Vulcan self. She sensed his distancing from an emotion-based question as his mental and emotional defenses went up.

"Ashayam," she said, leaning over him and stroking his shoulder, "if only you could have heard them after you and Margaret left the room. Kathryn thought that you were absolutely charming. Glenn wished that we were staying longer so we could get together again. Elizabeth wants to have us over for supper, and Wyatt was almost begging us to…you don't believe me?"

His eyes no longer met hers. Was what she said really true? Life experience had taught Spock to guard himself against compliments, as most of them had not been made honestly. In personal relationships, Amanda and Nyota were the only two people in his life who had never deceived him. Keeping everyone else at a distance was easier. He had spent too many hours meditating on rejection and betrayal during his 26 years. He did not wish to do so again.

Nyota felt him stiffen in doubt. "Ashayam, I'm your communications officer. You know that I'm trained to see through bullshit, and there was none of that. None at all. You are amazing and brilliant. Grace said that she had a hard time believing everything Amanda told the family about you until she met you. She was blown away. And she's not the only one. Look at me…"

Whenever Spock's personal insecurities reared, Nyota wanted to lash out at the people who had conditioned him to doubt his own worth. She wondered how much their bigotry had stolen from him throughout his life and mourned his losses whenever his doubts surfaced. Emotional wounds took longer to heal—if they healed at all.

She tilted his head back toward her. "Hey, hey, look at me…. They loved your mother, and they see a lot of her in you. Actually, Kyle said that you got the best from both parents."

Spock remained carefully neutral, reluctant to believe her, but he continued to listen.

"When you told us on the bridge that Earth was your home, too, you didn't know how true that was," she continued. "Allen, Margaret, Janelle, and everyone else last night have accepted you into their family. And I know that you felt it, too, especially when we all went outside to light the pumpkins. There was a real togetherness there—that's why you were so relaxed and content when we got home. Can you accept the fact that you are accepted here?"

Could he risk it, opening himself to what Nyota believed the Graysons were offering him? Spock had long sought the sense of belonging he had experienced at Janelle's, the kind of belonging he had sought on Vulcan. Old habits were hard to break, doubts ingrained over his lifetime difficult to overcome. But Nyota never hid the truth from him, and he trusted her observations.

"I wish to do so," he admitted quietly.

"Good. I know you do." She drew him into a hug and held him there. "The party was the first step. You will get to know them better over time, and they will get to know you." She pulled herself up and kissed his forehead before settling back down to her pillow, then smiled. "They're wonderful people. You won't regret it."

He felt better. Nyota's confidence brought him comfort. Her observations of and conversations with his cousins had been consistent with his own. "Perhaps their underlying motivation is to retain your acquaintance," he said.

She looked up, shocked, then realized his mood had lightened. "Oh?"

"The quote was, 'I hope that he keeps bringing her around.'" Spock did not add the speculation about upcoming weddings that he overheard as well.

She smiled. "That can only happen if you do keep me around."

He grabbed her tighter. "Do you believe that I will not do so?"

"You don't have a choice because I'm not leaving you, so the Graysons are stuck with me by default."

"I believe that they will be pleased."

"And are you? Pleased that you're stuck with me, I mean."

He touched her temple, sending a wave of joy and contentment. She had her answer.