Sometimes Blood Isn't Thick Enough

Title: Sometimes Blood Isn't Thick Enough
Author: Tempest
Series: TOS
Pairing: S/Mc
Rating: PG-13
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 relationship with each other, please stay away. Flames and feedback are welcome. Please ask before putting this anywhere.
Sometimes Blood Isn't Thick Enough
By Tempest
Augest 13, 2003

      McCoy sat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. He could hardly believe the wondrous turn his life had taken, what he had just gained. Who would have thought?

      The door slid open, and McCoy smiled. Spock walked into the room, as the doors slid shut. As soon as he was inside the quarters, Spock removed his science tunic and sat down on the bed next to McCoy's form. 

"What are you doing, Leonard?" Spock asked, reaching out to brush an errant lock of hair from McCoy's eyes.

      "I'm just thinking, Spock," McCoy replied, raising up slightly and laying a hand on the Vulcan's arm. He looked into Spock's eyes, a smile on his lips.  

      Spock moved in closer to the human. He was appreciating how McCoy looked in his off duty blue cotton robe. Interlocking his fingers with the doctor's, he allowed a small light to enter his eyes. "What were you thinking about, Leonard?"

      "About how wonderful it will be to be your bondmate, Spock. And how much I want to be, and how surprised I was when you proposed." 

      Spock eased himself down next to McCoy. "I find myself most amazed, too, when I think back to how you accepted my proposal," he added, still grateful for McCoy's affection.

      "So, about the ceremony, Spock. Will there be a party? Can I have guests? Can we dance?" McCoy bombarded Spock with questions. 

      "Yes, there will be a celebration, Leonard. You may invite whatever friends and family you desire. And Vulcan does not have a tradition of dance, but if it is your wish, we will."

      "Great, Spock. Jim and Scotty already know, and they're looking forward to coming. What did your parents say?" 

      "My parents *are* planning the ceremony. What do you think they said?"

      A huge grin broke out on McCoy's features. He pulled the Vulcan's head close to his and bestowed a chaste kiss on the soft, green lips. "Who said Vulcans aren't sarcastic?" He asked. "Oh well, I'm taking the good with the bad," he said, the grin still on his face. "I guess it just leaves my family then, right Spock?" 

      "Indeed. And if you wish them to attend the ceremony, you must inform them soon, or else they will not be able to make it from Earth to Vulcan in time for our bonding."

      "I'll get on it tomorrow, Spock," McCoy said, "I'm sure they'll be glad to hear about it. Mom's wanted me to settle down with somebody who'd love me for better and worse. And my brother always said he'd love to be my best man. It's too bad my dad's not alive anymore, because he would've liked you a lot, Spock." McCoy sighed, reflecting for a moment on his father. He missed him, and he knew he was responsible for his father not being able to attend. He squashed this thought, *It was what he wanted.* 

      "I am certain. Call them tomorrow, let them know the when and where. I am sure my parents will enjoy their company, and they will be welcome into my clan," Spock added, squeezing McCoy's hand gently.

      "Yeah, Spock. They'd like you a lot. I mean, aside from the whole vegetarian thing. You'd lose some points for that," he smiled at the Vulcan again.  

      "Yes, well, ingesting animal flesh is looked down upon in Vulcan society, so the same goes for you as well, Leonard," humor shown from the Vulcan's eyes as he spoke.

      McCoy smiled, "Staying the night, Spock?" 

      "Of course," the Vulcan replied. And to demonstrate his intentions, he stretched out on his side, next to the human, and pulled him into his arms, just holding him.

      "I'm glad." 

      "As am I."


      The next day, on his shift break, McCoy went back to his quarters. He showered and brushed his hair, throwing on the outfit he wore when he first left home for medical school, a pair of black jeans, and the shirt he had gotten from academy graduation, which still fit after all of these years. 

      He sat down at his desk and turned on the comm., keying it to his mother's house on Earth. He waited a minute as it dialed, making sure he knew what he was going to say. They would be so surprised.

      The image of a strong-faced woman, long gray hair, and the same clear blue eyes as McCoy filled the screen. "Leonard?" she asked, surprised, and in a voice sweet as honey, and a drawl much more pronounced than that of her son. "How are you, son? Is everything alright?" 

      He smiled at her. "Everything's fine, Mom. How are y'all back home? How's Mike doing? And Charlotte? Have they had kids yet?"

      "It's getting quiet in these parts, Leonard. Many of the neighbors have moved away. Mr. Henderson died about a year ago; the kids took his house, sold it, and went back to England. Michael got a promotion at the science center, making him the Chief Scientist, and Charlotte is eight months pregnant." 

      He laughed, "That's great news Mom. Really great. Is it going to be a boy or a girl?"

      "It's a boy, Leonard. They're gonna name him 'David.'" 

      McCoy nodded in approval, a salute to his father. At least his brother would give his mother a grandchild. "Very fitting, Mom."

      "And what's new in that Starfleet of yours? Last you told me, you'd made CMO of the Enterprise." 

      He chuckled, "A lot's happened since then, Mom. Aside from saving the Captain's and First Officer's asses every mission, and many people dying, too many people..."

      "Don't be so hard on yourself, Leonard. It's a natural part of life. And medicine isn't an easy business. In that, you're a lot like your father." 

      McCoy fought back a tear that threatened. Everybody told him that, and he knew they meant it as a compliment. His father had been a wonderful man. But he had destroyed his father. Nobody else knew, of course, but he did. And it hurt whenever somebody told him how much he was like the elder Doctor McCoy.

      He nodded again. "I'm also getting married." 

      His mother's face turned into a smile. "That's wonderful, Leonard. Who is she? What's she like? Where'd you meet her? Are you coming home for the wedding?"

      McCoy laughed a little bit. He knew his mother would appreciate everything. "Well, mom, it's not a "she;" it's Spock. He's the First Officer, I wrote home about him when I first came onboard. He's gotten a whole lot less annoying and a lot more attractive. He's great: intelligent, sarcastic, good bedside manner, and damn tender when he wants to be. We, him, Jim, and I, have been great friends for the last couple of years. And as our friendship grew, so did the feelings I had for him, romantic feelings. As it turned out, he had similar feelings toward me. One day, he asked me to marry him. I said yes. Although, if he were here, he'd correct me. It's not a marriage, in the human sense. It's a bonding, a Vulcan marriage, with a marriage mental link as well. Either way, I want it, and he wants it. It's going to take place in three weeks, on Vulcan, in Shi'Kahr, the capital city. Ambassador Sarek, Spock's daddy, and also the Vulcan ambassador, is planning the whole thing. I want you guys to all come." 

      His mother's face tightened, a frown crossing her features. She was silent for a long moment, which seemed to last an eternity. Finally she spoke, her voice almost angry, in a tone McCoy had never heard from her before. "A Vulcan, Leonard?" She hissed, "A Vulcan, not only a Vulcan, but a male Vulcan. Have you no pride in the McCoy name at all? How could you possibly think of doing this? If your father were alive, he would be so disappointed. How could you?" Anger seethed through her words, "How could you? A real McCoy would never! You don't deserve the name "McCoy," Leonard," she spat. And then, she cut the connection.

      McCoy sank down as low as he could into the chair. He buried his head in his hands. His father would never have gotten so angry. His father would have given Spock a chance, would have seen how wonderful he was. 

      He felt nauseous. Never before had he seen such hatred in his mother's eyes. Hatred for Spock, hatred for his decision, hatred for their love.

      He thought to himself, and he knew that he had a serious decision he had to make. It was his family, or Spock, and he did not wish to lose either. 

      He needed to think. Spock, his future family, or his mother, his past family. He sighed again as he crawled atop his bed, losing himself in thought, as memories began to flow through his weary brain.

      Sunday picnics with his younger brother Mike, his father, and his mother. How happy they all were together, simply relaxing in the sun, talking, eating, enjoying the scents of the South, the sweetened tea and meats. 

      Sometime last month, he had been working 37 hours nonstop. He was exhausted, mentally, physically, and had been in his office looking over files. A shadow descended upon his doorway and he looked up. Spock stood there holding a tray of his favorite foods. He set it down and pulled up a chair, making it clear that if he didn't eat of his own volition, the stubborn Vulcan would feed his meal to him.

      His parents at his medical school graduation, Mike had been off at University and hadn't been able to make it. His father's eyes smiling at him, perhaps the only eyes bluer than his own, his mother telling him how proud she was, they both were, of his achievements. Telling him what a wonderful doctor he would be. 

      Last year, at the Starfleet Awards Banquet, when he had won the Medical Officer of the Year title. Himself blushing and modest, not wanting the praise of the room, finding it superficial. He had gone out into the corridor to hide. Soft footfall behind him, a strong hand taking his wrist up gently. Dark sable eyes peering into his, a deep voice whispering, telling him what a wonderful doctor he was, how proud he was to know him.

      His father, on his deathbed, urging McCoy to pull the plug to give him peace. McCoy the younger refused, multiple times, unable to take life. The pleading eyes of his father, tearing, whispering "Leonard, son, I love you, I'll think no less of you whatever you do." His own action moments later. 

      The day before he entered into his relationship with Spock, lying on the floor, his head dizzy. The instrument, it was gone. Spock kneeled over him, looking into his eyes, concern in the sable orbs. A soft voice as he whispered, "Leonard McCoy, should you choose to stay here for your last year of life, I will understand. And knowing that you very well may choose that, I still say this with the meaning of my being 'I love you.'"

      The memories flowed through his brain as he drifted off into a much-needed sleep. 

      He awoke to the sound of boot patter on the floor. His hand moved to his eyes, wiping the blurriness of sleep away. "Who?" he asked softly.

      Spock walked quietly to the bed, moving to sit on the edge, careful to not take up any of McCoy's area. "I did not mean to disturb your rest, Leonard." 

      McCoy shook his head. "No, you didn't, and I'm glad I'm up. I need to get something puzzled out, and it's driving me up the wall."

      Spock, never resisting a chance to play their game, replied "But you are on the bed." 

      McCoy sighed, not even giving his typical 'you green-blooded hobgoblin. You know damn well what I mean.'

      Spock sensed this, and reached out to lay a hand on McCoy's arm. "Leonard, something it troubling you. What is it?" 

      McCoy sighed again, not wanting to delve into details. Not wanting to hurt Spock before the final decision was made.

      But the brown eyes implored him to speak, and despite himself, he found the story spill out. 

      Spock was silent for many moments afterwards. McCoy, not sure if he was hurt or angry, said nothing as well.

      Finally, Spock took in a deep breath. He gaze McCoy's arm a very human squeeze with his hand, as he said softly, "Leonard, although I do not agree with your mother's tactics, I respect her opinion. And I can understand how your roots could be deemed more important. On Vulcan, one is bound by skan, the family, and this bond overrides even the loyalty to one's bondmate." 

      McCoy looked up, curious.

      The Vulcan continued. "And being Vulcan, the dilemma you face is not new to me. The choice is yours, Leonard, and I respect your thought processes that your decision will be the correct one. And I want you to know, that I will think no less of you whatever you decide to do." 

      Those words...that look...McCoy closed his eyes and made his choice.


      Three weeks later, Spock and McCoy stood on the red sands of Vulcan, staring into each other's eyes, feeling for the first time their bonding link. As Spock reached two fingers towards McCoy's, he sent a tentative thought to him. //Leonard, do you regret your decision?// 

      A smile crossed McCoy's lips as he returned the intimate touch. //No, Spock, I don't. For you see, blood is much thicker than water, but sometimes, even it's not thick enough.//

      Over the link, Spock sent his comprehension, as they two walked back from the porch of Sarek's home, intent on finishing up the party with McCoy's new family. 

      And somewhere on Terra, a blue-eyed Southern Belle, aged in mind, not in beauty, placed a family photograph faced down, with a disappointed shake of her head and a whispered, "Leonard..."