Parents and Vulcans

Title: Parents and Vulcans

Author: Tempest

Series: TOS

Parings: S/Mc, Sa/Am

Rating: PG

Summary: Spock and McCoy have a conversation after “Journey to Babel.”

Disclaimer: I don't own TOS. I never have, and I never will. Star Trek and all of its relations are property of Paramount and Viacom. I only own this story. Anybody who has a problem with the thought of men in homosexual relationships with each other, please stay away. Flames and feedback are welcome. Please ask before putting this anywhere.

Author’s Notes: It’s pure fluff, because nothing else I write is happy, and I promised something happy.


 Parents and Vulcans

By Tempest

March 1, 2010



Spock had been released from sickbay before his father, both for medical reasons and because the two of them combined had been driving the medical staff up the wall. Sarek’s procedure had been a matter of life or death, while Spock’s had only been risky. Thus, the medical staff was rewarded by only having to care for one Vulcan, and McCoy was punished for getting the last word by having one Vulcan during shift and one off.


Of course, he didn’t consider that much of a punishment.


If was after shift that the doctor returned to his quarters to find Spock there, waiting for him whilst pretending to be engrossed in a data chip. McCoy knew that the Vulcan was pretending, because he recognized the chip; the article hadn’t been interesting the first time around.  


“Honey, I’m home,” the doctor announced. The other man’s reaction was as respected. Spock lifted his head and replied in his usual, dry manner. “So I assumed. Besides you, only myself and the Captain possess authorized override codes, and as I was already here, and the Captain is still on duty, you were the only person with access.”


The remark only caused McCoy to smile and shake his head to himself. “You have a way of sucking the joy and romance out of any situation.”


“Evidently not, as you still find yourself interested.”


The comment prompted the doctor to roll his eyes. He turned his back to the Vulcan while removing his uniform shirt and pitching it in the recycler, and then he crossed the distance to the bed and sat on the edge. Leaning over, he removed his boots. “I was talking to your mother today; I tell you, that woman has the patience of a saint.” He dropped his boots to the floor and leaned back on the bed. “I’d like to think that’s how I’ll be in forty years.”




“I beg your pardon?” McCoy fished, giving Spock the opportunity to elaborate and further the banter.


“I said ‘doubtful,’ Leonard. I am sure you heard me.” That was it, no witty retort, no thinly veiled insult.


Banter was neither entertaining nor worthwhile when he did it himself, and McCoy sighed. He had kept his eye on Spock since the Vulcan delegation had beamed aboard, complete with revelation that the ambassador was his father. Of course, the pressing mission between solving the murder mystery and exposing the Orion agent had added stress, coupled with his father’s heart condition and the operation. Yet, disregarding all of that, the Vulcan had been defensive. During the tour of the ship, during the reception, over breakfast...


Then, of course, there were the mixed signals. Half the time, he felt as though Spock wanted him to have nothing to do with his parents, and at other times, he stood by and let his mother tell embarrassing stories about his childhood, stepping in only to make factual corrections or deliver a barb which was his version of gentle teasing. Vulcans. After spending time with Amanda, he had to wonder how she hadn’t lost her mind dealing with more than one of them.


What he had also observed was that despite the estrangement, Spock was quite similar to his father albeit distant, while quite close to his mother, despite the glaring personality differences. His lover, the Mama’s Boy, though he knew better than to ever say that allowed, or to think it loudly enough to be overheard.


“Is something wrong?”


“No.” Unfortunately, a “no” from Spock often meant “yes.”


“Look, I’m not trying to get you to clam up.”


“I know.”


McCoy sighed again, and then tried a different approach. “Is it because I’m comparing myself to your mother, or is it the comparison to Sarek?”


Spock’s pause was long enough that McCoy began to regret the question. In this, his experience was foreign; he had been young when his mother had died, so he didn’t know her well. As for his father...he had revered the man until the day he died, and still revered the elder McCoy’s memory. Perhaps, because he couldn’t quite relate, he had crossed a line.


Then Spock replied, “A combination, perhaps. I do not want to think of you as my mother, nor do I want to think of myself as my father.”


That was understandable. “That’s fair, given the dynamics.”


Spock’s pause was longer than the first; this was a new record, one which the human hadn’t intended to set. “I do not believe you understand what I am attempting to communicate.”


The human might usually snap a “try harder, then,” but this seemed to actually be a challenge for the Vulcan, which meant it was emotional. One of McCoy’s personal rules for their relationship was to never make Spock regret emotions, and if that involved extra patience while he worked through expression that came so naturally to his mother’s species, then so be it. “I’m listening.”


“The nature of my relationship with you is not one that should have parallels or connections to my parents.”


This was an historic day; Spock had just told him, in that roundabout, overly technical way of his, that he didn’t want to picture having sex with his mother, McCoy having sex with his father, or presumably his parents having sex with one another or at all. That McCoy could relate to. “Ah, well, I have to say we’re in complete agreement there.”


The Vulcan stared at him from across the room, and momentarily, McCoy was concerned he might have crossed a line, unintentionally insulting the other man’s family. However, Spock said nothing, instead rising from the desk to sit beside the doctor on his bed.


McCoy turned his head, leaning in to brush his lips across Spock’s cheek. The Vulcan did not turn to return the kiss, but he also didn’t pull away, which was a start. He held up two fingers, the way he had seen Spock’s parents do in public, the way Spock had taught him in private. The Vulcan touched his fingers to McCoy’s, simply holding them still for a moment, before then caressing the length of the human’s fingers with his own. When he leaned in for another kiss, the Vulcan returned it.


Breaking the kiss, he pressed his lips to Spock’s cheek again, and then said, “Although, your mother did mention the most interesting fact about sandalwood...”



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