Friends. Always.
Title: Friends. Always.
Author: jessofthebugs
Disclaimer: O, I have bought the mansion of a love, /But not posess'd it.
Pairing: Chekov/Joanna McCoy
Rating: Adult, 17+
Type: One-shot
Warnings: Cursing, sexytimes, OMG HET!, and Bones is not grouchy!
Word Count: ~2200
Summary and Notes: For the Poor Man's Sinfest Kink Meme v. 2.0 for the following prompt from sleepygoof8784 :
Chekov/ Joanna McCoy. They're fuck buddies (please I am dying for some Jo/Pavel sex), but she's pregnant. Does she tell him? Or really just anything with this pairing, please!
This has been posted over yonder ways in the comments of the Kink Meme, but here it is again, cleaned up and prettified.
On an unrelated note: Many, many apologies to those of you waiting for the next Dear Daddy,. It's in Beta, so I hope it will be edited and posted soonish. For those of you waiting on Balancing the Equation: #11, that's in progress and I promise I won't leave you hanging forever. Grad school is kind of life-sucking. Also, go lookit kadollan 's drabbles. (Clickenzie hier). They are made of awesomeness.
She's been aboard the Enterprise for a year now, working as a lab tech for her dad. She loves science, adores space, and even on those days when he's particularly irritable, she loves her dad. "So..." He crossed his arms over his chest like he was prepared for some kind of parental speech, "You and Chekov?"
"Pavel and I are just friends, Dad, that's all it is." He raises an eyebrow, she rolls her eyes. "No, really, Dad, we're just friends. We hang out, play video games, and talk about physics together. It's not a thing."
"He's eight years your elder, Jo." She considered herself immune to Daddy's scowl, but he did it anyway. He wouldn't be Leonard H. McCoy if he didn't.
"I know, Daddy. Uncle Jim's six years younger'n you, I might point out, and besides, Pavel and I are just friends, okay?"
The doctor's face softened some and he uncrossed his arms, "If I didn't know Mr. Chekov to be a perfect gentleman, I'd be polishing a phaser rifle outside your quarters after shift. Just be careful, Jo-Jo." He returned to his work after a fatherly smile and a pat on her shoulder and she just shook her head and cleaned up her workspace before heading to the mess to meet Pavel.
What she said to her dad wasn't entirely true. They were friends, but over the past few months, it had been more like friends with benefits. She's a girl, he's a guy, and after a good portion of Daddy's bourbon that first time, it just seemed like a good idea. There was no weirdness after, just tidying up and a "see ya next time." Sartori was serving meatloaf in the mess... again. It wasn't even real meat, but it was nutritionally balanced and vitamin-fortified. "Ugh."
"What do you mean, 'Ugh?' I like meatloaf!" He grinned like he always does, a twisted-up mischievous smile that spread across his entire face in a show of white teeth and genuine glee.
"But this," she poked the slice with her fork, "ain't meatloaf. My mama's meatloaf, that's good. I don't even know what this is."
"It is vegetable protein, fortified with vitamins." Jo smiled at the way he pronounced every syllable and thought fondly of one of the first long conversations they'd ever had about accents and language. "Eat, Jo, it is good for you." They ate and chatted, retiring to his quarters under the premise that they'd play chess later. They played, he won, and they ended up as they usually did, half-naked and in his bed. She'd taken her tights and boots off and he slowly pulled her underwear down, tossing it with a playful laugh onto the 3-D chess board where it knocked over a queen and a knight on the 2nd level. He ran his fingers over the coarse black curls between her legs and through the slick furrow, teasing her to the point of near madness.
"Goddamn, Pavel!" She grabbed his butt and pulled him closer to her, his still-clothed erection pressing against her stomach. "Would you get on with it already?"
"Aww..." He pouted, "But I love to tease you! You make such funny faces." Her scowl failed to conceal the smile behind it and he grinned, "Yes! The faces! I love the faces!"
"Shut up!" she swatted his arm and he laughed, "And Daddy says you're a gentleman. Little does he know-"
"Shh!" He put his finger to his lips, "The last thing I wish to think of now is your father. Now, take off your uniform, it is in my way."
"Pssht!" She pulled the minidress over her head and tossed it aside, "You're bossy."
He had her bra unhooked and half off by the time she'd divested herself of her dress. "You like it."
"As if. Now are we gonna have sex or what?"
She unbuttoned his pants and he pushed them down and kicked them off, "Da, da. There will be sexing. Shush." He licked and nipped at her breasts and then slid into her with a throaty grunt. He was good and knew just the right pace for her- when to speed up, when to slow down, and when to fuck like mad. They had fun and he watched her shower before she left for her own quarters.
"Bye, Pavel. See you at breakfast."
"Good night, Joanna. See you in the morning."
---
Several weeks later, they sat in the mess together as they usually did, but she only poked at her waffles and wrinkled her nose. "You are not hungry, Jo? But you love waffles!"
"I don't know, Pavel, my stomach's off today. I don't know what's the matter with me. I gotta get anyway. I've got some work to catch up on. I'll ask Daddy to see if I've got some virus or something when I go in. See ya later." She gave her waffles to Chekov and cleaned up her tray before making her way to sickbay. There was always some kind of work to be done, but it wasn't busy, so she sat up on one of the biobeds and waited. "Hey, Daddy, I'm not feelin' quite right today. It's my stomach. I think I might have a virus or something."
He took his readings and the eyebrow went up. He scanned her again and shook his head, "Jo-baby? I don't know how to say this," He snapped the sensor back into its place and set the tricorder aside, "but it looks like I'm gonna be a granddaddy."
"That ain't funny, Daddy. What is it, really? Acid reflux? Virus? What?"
"I ain't joking, Sweetpea. You can look at the readings yourself." He handed her the tricorder and clear as you please in blue letters were the words: "Diagnosis: Pregnancy. Fetus less than two weeks mature."
Everything she knew, her career in space, the life she'd started to build, her time on the Enterprise, seemed to crumble around these few words. A thousand emotions welled up into her throat and released as tears, "Oh, Daddy! What'll I do? I can't be pregnant now. How in the holy hell am I going to take care of a kid?"
He held her and let her cry into his shirt as he stroked her back, "I ain't gonna ask whose it is, but I want you to know that no matter what, I'm here for you." He kissed her head, "Babydoll, why don't you take today off? Christine and I can handle things here."
He handed her a handkerchief and she sniffed, wiping her face clean of tears and snot. "What am I gonna do, Daddy?"
"You keeping it?" She nodded. "Then what you're going to do is take care of my grandbaby. Beyond that, it's up to you. Now get out of here." He gave her a half-smile, "I've got sick people to take care of."
"Daddy?" She sniffed again and swallowed.
"What is it, Jo-baby?"
"Don't tell, okay?"
He nodded and tucked the tricorder under his arm, "I won't tell, Sugar. It'll be our secret for now."
"Thanks." They hugged and he kissed her head before she left sickbay to return to her quarters. There was a lot to think about before dinner and she wasn't even sure she'd be able to talk about it even then. When she arrived at her quarters, she spent a solid hour crying, another hour angry at herself, twenty minutes cussing Pavel, half an hour convincing herself that it wasn't really his fault, and then another full hour in tears. The first officer often commented in his wry, deadpan way on the McCoys' emotional outbursts, but he didn't know the half of it. She'd keep her weaknesses secret, hidden away behind closed doors like a McCoy.
She woke up to the door chime and wiped the drool from her face. "Who is it!"
"It's Pavel." He sounded worried, "You were not at dinner."
"Enter." The door whooshed open and he held a covered tray in one hand. Pavel Chekov really was a gentleman and always took care of his friends. When Sulu's console blew up in his face, he visited him every day in sickbay. When Riley needed a shift off for Good Friday, he pulled a double and expected nothing in return. "That's sweet, Pavel, but I don't think I can eat right now."
"Your papa said you were ill, so I brought you borscht. It is good for digestion. Mine is not as good as Mama's, but it will do." He set the tray on the bed. "You look terrible. I hope it is not contagious."
"Thanks. You sure know how to charm a gal." She smiled and shook her head, "Anyway, I'm pretty sure this ain't contagious." She ate small spoonfuls of the bright pink soup and tiny bits of bread as they chatted about this and that, but she didn't tell him. She couldn't tell. Eventually, he left with the unfinished soup and she lay back down to think long and hard about what to do next.
Two weeks passed and the "morning" sickness didn't let up. It was, in fact, a dirty lie to call it morning sickness since the nausea lingered morning, noon, and night. She mostly lived on bread and ginger tea with the occasional half-bowl of borscht that Pavel insisted on bringing her. "I have brought you soup for your stomach, Jo."
"Thanks, Pavel. I'm sure this will pass soon." She'd been saying that the whole time, but the excuses and hedging around the truth were beginning to wear thin.
He pursed his lips the way he always did when concentrating or worried, "I am concerned for you. You have been ill for two weeks and not getting better and I am worried that this may be something very serious. I asked your papa, but he says you are fine. I don't believe him. You are not fine and have been acting strange lately. What is the matter, Jo? I am your friend. Please tell me what is the matter."
She sighed and pushed the soup away, feeling sick again. "Pavel..." She tried to choke down the tears, but they fell in spite of her. "I'm pregnant."
His already big eyes widened and he ran a long hand through his sandy curls, making all kinds of exclamations in Russian. He switched back to English as he paced the room, "Shit, shit, shit! What will we do? The baby is... mine?"
"Yeah, Pavel, it's yours."
"Shit. Bozhe moy - Fuck! Ai! We will get married right away. I will ask your papa today and the Captain can-"
She scoffed, "What are you, from the Dark Ages?"
"No, Russia." He continued pacing and cussing.
"You don't have to marry me just because I'm pregnant. Geez, Pavel, this is the 23rd goddamned century! You don't think I can handle this on my own?!" She set the bowl of soup aside in anticipation of the famous McCoy emotional outburst that began to rise up in her chest. "For the love of God and all that's holy-"
"Mama is going to kill me!"
"I'm going to kill you! Dead! D-E-D, dead! For fuck's sake, Pavel-" She threw her arms up in a mock-surrender, "I can't believe you!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He stopped pacing and turned his attention to her. "Please don't be upset."
"I ain't got started on upset yet, Pavel Andreievich Chekov. You just wait 'til I get goin'!"
"Please," he softened his voice and sat on the end of the bed, hunching down so that his eyes were level with hers, "calm down, Jo. You will hurt the baby being so upset."
"Did you fail basic biology?!" She picked up a pillow and threw it at him, but he quickly put it back in its rightful place at the head of her bed.
"I'm sorry." She grabbed the pillow again and raised it as though to throw it at him again, but held it in her lap and cried into it instead. "I, eh, I should have been more careful. We will fix this somehow, you will see. I will take care of you, I promise."
"No, Pavel," she sniffed and wiped her eyes with her hands. He handed her a tissue from the box next to her bed and blew her nose, finally finding her composure. "We're not making the same mistake my parents did. They stayed marrried too long because of me and I don't want to do that. We're going to continue on as we have been, as friends."
He hung his head and nodded, "Okay."
"And if it gets to be more than that, so be it." She let him scoot closer to her, "I don't want to raise a baby that doesn't know its daddy, so you ain't allowed to go too long without seeing us, okay?"
"Da, yes, of course. I will teach her Russian and the names of all the stars and planets. I will be a good papa, I promise." He stroked her arm and she put her head on his shoulder. "Even if we do not become husband and wife, I will be a good papa."
"And we'll stay friends?"
"Da. Friends, always."
Author: jessofthebugs
Disclaimer: O, I have bought the mansion of a love, /But not posess'd it.
Pairing: Chekov/Joanna McCoy
Rating: Adult, 17+
Type: One-shot
Warnings: Cursing, sexytimes, OMG HET!, and Bones is not grouchy!
Word Count: ~2200
Summary and Notes: For the Poor Man's Sinfest Kink Meme v. 2.0 for the following prompt from sleepygoof8784 :
Chekov/ Joanna McCoy. They're fuck buddies (please I am dying for some Jo/Pavel sex), but she's pregnant. Does she tell him? Or really just anything with this pairing, please!
This has been posted over yonder ways in the comments of the Kink Meme, but here it is again, cleaned up and prettified.
On an unrelated note: Many, many apologies to those of you waiting for the next Dear Daddy,. It's in Beta, so I hope it will be edited and posted soonish. For those of you waiting on Balancing the Equation: #11, that's in progress and I promise I won't leave you hanging forever. Grad school is kind of life-sucking. Also, go lookit kadollan 's drabbles. (Clickenzie hier). They are made of awesomeness.
She's been aboard the Enterprise for a year now, working as a lab tech for her dad. She loves science, adores space, and even on those days when he's particularly irritable, she loves her dad. "So..." He crossed his arms over his chest like he was prepared for some kind of parental speech, "You and Chekov?"
"Pavel and I are just friends, Dad, that's all it is." He raises an eyebrow, she rolls her eyes. "No, really, Dad, we're just friends. We hang out, play video games, and talk about physics together. It's not a thing."
"He's eight years your elder, Jo." She considered herself immune to Daddy's scowl, but he did it anyway. He wouldn't be Leonard H. McCoy if he didn't.
"I know, Daddy. Uncle Jim's six years younger'n you, I might point out, and besides, Pavel and I are just friends, okay?"
The doctor's face softened some and he uncrossed his arms, "If I didn't know Mr. Chekov to be a perfect gentleman, I'd be polishing a phaser rifle outside your quarters after shift. Just be careful, Jo-Jo." He returned to his work after a fatherly smile and a pat on her shoulder and she just shook her head and cleaned up her workspace before heading to the mess to meet Pavel.
What she said to her dad wasn't entirely true. They were friends, but over the past few months, it had been more like friends with benefits. She's a girl, he's a guy, and after a good portion of Daddy's bourbon that first time, it just seemed like a good idea. There was no weirdness after, just tidying up and a "see ya next time." Sartori was serving meatloaf in the mess... again. It wasn't even real meat, but it was nutritionally balanced and vitamin-fortified. "Ugh."
"What do you mean, 'Ugh?' I like meatloaf!" He grinned like he always does, a twisted-up mischievous smile that spread across his entire face in a show of white teeth and genuine glee.
"But this," she poked the slice with her fork, "ain't meatloaf. My mama's meatloaf, that's good. I don't even know what this is."
"It is vegetable protein, fortified with vitamins." Jo smiled at the way he pronounced every syllable and thought fondly of one of the first long conversations they'd ever had about accents and language. "Eat, Jo, it is good for you." They ate and chatted, retiring to his quarters under the premise that they'd play chess later. They played, he won, and they ended up as they usually did, half-naked and in his bed. She'd taken her tights and boots off and he slowly pulled her underwear down, tossing it with a playful laugh onto the 3-D chess board where it knocked over a queen and a knight on the 2nd level. He ran his fingers over the coarse black curls between her legs and through the slick furrow, teasing her to the point of near madness.
"Goddamn, Pavel!" She grabbed his butt and pulled him closer to her, his still-clothed erection pressing against her stomach. "Would you get on with it already?"
"Aww..." He pouted, "But I love to tease you! You make such funny faces." Her scowl failed to conceal the smile behind it and he grinned, "Yes! The faces! I love the faces!"
"Shut up!" she swatted his arm and he laughed, "And Daddy says you're a gentleman. Little does he know-"
"Shh!" He put his finger to his lips, "The last thing I wish to think of now is your father. Now, take off your uniform, it is in my way."
"Pssht!" She pulled the minidress over her head and tossed it aside, "You're bossy."
He had her bra unhooked and half off by the time she'd divested herself of her dress. "You like it."
"As if. Now are we gonna have sex or what?"
She unbuttoned his pants and he pushed them down and kicked them off, "Da, da. There will be sexing. Shush." He licked and nipped at her breasts and then slid into her with a throaty grunt. He was good and knew just the right pace for her- when to speed up, when to slow down, and when to fuck like mad. They had fun and he watched her shower before she left for her own quarters.
"Bye, Pavel. See you at breakfast."
"Good night, Joanna. See you in the morning."
---
Several weeks later, they sat in the mess together as they usually did, but she only poked at her waffles and wrinkled her nose. "You are not hungry, Jo? But you love waffles!"
"I don't know, Pavel, my stomach's off today. I don't know what's the matter with me. I gotta get anyway. I've got some work to catch up on. I'll ask Daddy to see if I've got some virus or something when I go in. See ya later." She gave her waffles to Chekov and cleaned up her tray before making her way to sickbay. There was always some kind of work to be done, but it wasn't busy, so she sat up on one of the biobeds and waited. "Hey, Daddy, I'm not feelin' quite right today. It's my stomach. I think I might have a virus or something."
He took his readings and the eyebrow went up. He scanned her again and shook his head, "Jo-baby? I don't know how to say this," He snapped the sensor back into its place and set the tricorder aside, "but it looks like I'm gonna be a granddaddy."
"That ain't funny, Daddy. What is it, really? Acid reflux? Virus? What?"
"I ain't joking, Sweetpea. You can look at the readings yourself." He handed her the tricorder and clear as you please in blue letters were the words: "Diagnosis: Pregnancy. Fetus less than two weeks mature."
Everything she knew, her career in space, the life she'd started to build, her time on the Enterprise, seemed to crumble around these few words. A thousand emotions welled up into her throat and released as tears, "Oh, Daddy! What'll I do? I can't be pregnant now. How in the holy hell am I going to take care of a kid?"
He held her and let her cry into his shirt as he stroked her back, "I ain't gonna ask whose it is, but I want you to know that no matter what, I'm here for you." He kissed her head, "Babydoll, why don't you take today off? Christine and I can handle things here."
He handed her a handkerchief and she sniffed, wiping her face clean of tears and snot. "What am I gonna do, Daddy?"
"You keeping it?" She nodded. "Then what you're going to do is take care of my grandbaby. Beyond that, it's up to you. Now get out of here." He gave her a half-smile, "I've got sick people to take care of."
"Daddy?" She sniffed again and swallowed.
"What is it, Jo-baby?"
"Don't tell, okay?"
He nodded and tucked the tricorder under his arm, "I won't tell, Sugar. It'll be our secret for now."
"Thanks." They hugged and he kissed her head before she left sickbay to return to her quarters. There was a lot to think about before dinner and she wasn't even sure she'd be able to talk about it even then. When she arrived at her quarters, she spent a solid hour crying, another hour angry at herself, twenty minutes cussing Pavel, half an hour convincing herself that it wasn't really his fault, and then another full hour in tears. The first officer often commented in his wry, deadpan way on the McCoys' emotional outbursts, but he didn't know the half of it. She'd keep her weaknesses secret, hidden away behind closed doors like a McCoy.
She woke up to the door chime and wiped the drool from her face. "Who is it!"
"It's Pavel." He sounded worried, "You were not at dinner."
"Enter." The door whooshed open and he held a covered tray in one hand. Pavel Chekov really was a gentleman and always took care of his friends. When Sulu's console blew up in his face, he visited him every day in sickbay. When Riley needed a shift off for Good Friday, he pulled a double and expected nothing in return. "That's sweet, Pavel, but I don't think I can eat right now."
"Your papa said you were ill, so I brought you borscht. It is good for digestion. Mine is not as good as Mama's, but it will do." He set the tray on the bed. "You look terrible. I hope it is not contagious."
"Thanks. You sure know how to charm a gal." She smiled and shook her head, "Anyway, I'm pretty sure this ain't contagious." She ate small spoonfuls of the bright pink soup and tiny bits of bread as they chatted about this and that, but she didn't tell him. She couldn't tell. Eventually, he left with the unfinished soup and she lay back down to think long and hard about what to do next.
Two weeks passed and the "morning" sickness didn't let up. It was, in fact, a dirty lie to call it morning sickness since the nausea lingered morning, noon, and night. She mostly lived on bread and ginger tea with the occasional half-bowl of borscht that Pavel insisted on bringing her. "I have brought you soup for your stomach, Jo."
"Thanks, Pavel. I'm sure this will pass soon." She'd been saying that the whole time, but the excuses and hedging around the truth were beginning to wear thin.
He pursed his lips the way he always did when concentrating or worried, "I am concerned for you. You have been ill for two weeks and not getting better and I am worried that this may be something very serious. I asked your papa, but he says you are fine. I don't believe him. You are not fine and have been acting strange lately. What is the matter, Jo? I am your friend. Please tell me what is the matter."
She sighed and pushed the soup away, feeling sick again. "Pavel..." She tried to choke down the tears, but they fell in spite of her. "I'm pregnant."
His already big eyes widened and he ran a long hand through his sandy curls, making all kinds of exclamations in Russian. He switched back to English as he paced the room, "Shit, shit, shit! What will we do? The baby is... mine?"
"Yeah, Pavel, it's yours."
"Shit. Bozhe moy - Fuck! Ai! We will get married right away. I will ask your papa today and the Captain can-"
She scoffed, "What are you, from the Dark Ages?"
"No, Russia." He continued pacing and cussing.
"You don't have to marry me just because I'm pregnant. Geez, Pavel, this is the 23rd goddamned century! You don't think I can handle this on my own?!" She set the bowl of soup aside in anticipation of the famous McCoy emotional outburst that began to rise up in her chest. "For the love of God and all that's holy-"
"Mama is going to kill me!"
"I'm going to kill you! Dead! D-E-D, dead! For fuck's sake, Pavel-" She threw her arms up in a mock-surrender, "I can't believe you!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He stopped pacing and turned his attention to her. "Please don't be upset."
"I ain't got started on upset yet, Pavel Andreievich Chekov. You just wait 'til I get goin'!"
"Please," he softened his voice and sat on the end of the bed, hunching down so that his eyes were level with hers, "calm down, Jo. You will hurt the baby being so upset."
"Did you fail basic biology?!" She picked up a pillow and threw it at him, but he quickly put it back in its rightful place at the head of her bed.
"I'm sorry." She grabbed the pillow again and raised it as though to throw it at him again, but held it in her lap and cried into it instead. "I, eh, I should have been more careful. We will fix this somehow, you will see. I will take care of you, I promise."
"No, Pavel," she sniffed and wiped her eyes with her hands. He handed her a tissue from the box next to her bed and blew her nose, finally finding her composure. "We're not making the same mistake my parents did. They stayed marrried too long because of me and I don't want to do that. We're going to continue on as we have been, as friends."
He hung his head and nodded, "Okay."
"And if it gets to be more than that, so be it." She let him scoot closer to her, "I don't want to raise a baby that doesn't know its daddy, so you ain't allowed to go too long without seeing us, okay?"
"Da, yes, of course. I will teach her Russian and the names of all the stars and planets. I will be a good papa, I promise." He stroked her arm and she put her head on his shoulder. "Even if we do not become husband and wife, I will be a good papa."
"And we'll stay friends?"
"Da. Friends, always."