(no subject)
Who: McCoy and T'Pol
When: today?
Where: infirmary
What: T'Pol may be preggo and McCoy has to deal with this shit.
Warnings: mentions of vulcan sex-or-die
Of all the people he thought he had to worry about T'Pol had been low on that list. Though he would never say it out loud there was something dependable about Vulcan stoicism, you knew where they stood when disaster struck. Not that it would ever stop him from trying to get an emotional response or two out of the woman when he could, but knowing logic kept T'Pol from pulling the stupid stunts that Kirk or Scotty or hell, even Uhura did was a relief.
That was, of course, until he got to learn about 'Pon Farr.'
He had looked through the records on his PADD, even tried the library but he could find nothing more than what Spock and T'Pol already mentioned. And by mentioned he meant more kindly telling McCoy to take his questions and stick them in his red blooded, rounded ear thank you very much, because McCoy could see the eyebrow quirk even from the comments in his PADD.
Of course now he was considering it, and if T'Pol really was pregnant from illogical Vulcan mating lord knew what was next. She had enough baggage with Elizabeth's death and the Barge was no place to birth a child, let alone raise one. His already foul mood from some of the previous days was snowballing to a full fledged, vaguely neurotic worry over it all- over this child growing up back in T'Pol's time without a father, about T'Pol leaving at all because hell if the Vulcan hadn't grown on McCoy. He didn't make friends easily or readily, especially not with Vulcans of all things, but there it was, pure and simple.
He didn't even notice his hand rubbing nervously over his jaw until he hit the vaguely sore spot from Kirk's punch. He paused and nearly rolled his eyes. Lord look at him, worrying like a mother hen. What he needed was a drink, and he would damn well get one once T'Pol came and went.
When: today?
Where: infirmary
What: T'Pol may be preggo and McCoy has to deal with this shit.
Warnings: mentions of vulcan sex-or-die
Of all the people he thought he had to worry about T'Pol had been low on that list. Though he would never say it out loud there was something dependable about Vulcan stoicism, you knew where they stood when disaster struck. Not that it would ever stop him from trying to get an emotional response or two out of the woman when he could, but knowing logic kept T'Pol from pulling the stupid stunts that Kirk or Scotty or hell, even Uhura did was a relief.
That was, of course, until he got to learn about 'Pon Farr.'
He had looked through the records on his PADD, even tried the library but he could find nothing more than what Spock and T'Pol already mentioned. And by mentioned he meant more kindly telling McCoy to take his questions and stick them in his red blooded, rounded ear thank you very much, because McCoy could see the eyebrow quirk even from the comments in his PADD.
Of course now he was considering it, and if T'Pol really was pregnant from illogical Vulcan mating lord knew what was next. She had enough baggage with Elizabeth's death and the Barge was no place to birth a child, let alone raise one. His already foul mood from some of the previous days was snowballing to a full fledged, vaguely neurotic worry over it all- over this child growing up back in T'Pol's time without a father, about T'Pol leaving at all because hell if the Vulcan hadn't grown on McCoy. He didn't make friends easily or readily, especially not with Vulcans of all things, but there it was, pure and simple.
He didn't even notice his hand rubbing nervously over his jaw until he hit the vaguely sore spot from Kirk's punch. He paused and nearly rolled his eyes. Lord look at him, worrying like a mother hen. What he needed was a drink, and he would damn well get one once T'Pol came and went.