"Your girlfriend is expanding," McCoy echoes from behind the other man, arms crossed as he gives him a dubious look. "I'm guessing she's either contracted some kind of virus that's doing a number on her or I ought to give you some congratulations." He arches his brow. "That is, if you're happy about it."
"Hell, if they're going to expect me to keep it together out in the pitch black vacuum of death, I'm going to crack a joke or two," McCoy announces with a tight smile, arching his brow. "So it is the latter? How pregnant is she?"
"You know, McKay, you could just wing it when the kid gets here. That's what I did."
Jack didn't particularly care if his advice was solicited; he'd never cared before the island and he wasn't going to start now. Besides, Jill had seemed to appreciate his advice.
"Since when do you have a kid? Or is there something Carter hasn't told me?" Rodney griped. O'Neill wasn't exactly someone he wanted to see him going through parenting books, it was embarrassing, and they were kind of friends now which made it more than a little humiliating to admit he was about as prepared for this as Dorothy had been for the tornado.
He was working on it, though. All he needed was a Toto.
"He died a long time ago," Jack said, slightly more subdued than he'd been a second before. "But I still remember how to do the whole thing. Love kids, even if they are little monsters."
"Oh." Crap. Now he felt bad. Worse, anyway. "Sorry."
He was silent for a moment, looking at his laptop screen. "I hate kids," he said, when he finally spoke up again. "I mean, I don't hate them, I just - I'm not good with them. I make them cry."
"Still just skimming?" Jill asked with a smile when she spotted Rodney and caught sight of his reading material. It wasn't like she could really tease him much about it, not when, just a week or so earlier, she'd been doing the exact same thing and reacting in about the exact same way. Despite her smile, the situation was still utterly terrifying and she was fairly convinced that neither of them had any idea what they were doing.
Okay, so he obviously hadn't intended to hide from Jill considering he was out in public and all, but he hadn't exactly intended for her to catch him doing this, either. He'd thought she'd be in the lab or lying down or something, but she was here so he guess he just had to deal with it.
"I'd call this...extensive skimming," he admitted.
"Extensive skimming," Jill repeated, glancing over the titles of the books he'd discarded at his feet, giving him another faint grin. She understood the anxiety and the need to have as much information as possible. If they were well informed when the baby arrived, maybe they would have a better chance of not screwing it up completely.
At the moment, Jill was still trying to find the part of her that was supposed to be excited.
Rodney was experiencing more dread than excitement, presently. His research hadn't done much to change that.
"Fingernails and toenails don't start to develop until about the fourth month," he said. "Did you know that? I didn't know that. But I guess it makes sense, I mean you wouldn't want something with fingernails scrabbling around in there for too long."
A trek up to the compound with a baby in tow was enough to tire anyone out -- Devon included. As soon as he was inside the compound and let Ellie have some time alone before he had to head to the clinic, he headed into the rec room and carefully set Madeline down on one of the couches before sitting down next to her himself.
She seemed happy enough to be there, and as Devon stretched his arms out, he caught sight of the other guy there and the book he was reading.
"That's a pretty familiar sight," he said, looking amused. He still had his own stash of books on the same topic, shoved under their bed to make room for the actual baby.
"What?" Rodney looked up and over at the Calvin Klein model, frowning. He had a baby next to him.
"Did someone leave that there or is that yours?" he asked, wondering if it was a boy or a girl. You could never tell, with babies. Rodney had learned not to take telltale colors like pink or blue for granted, just in case. And when it was wearing yellow you were in deep trouble using gender-specific pronouns.
Devon wasn't really into snap judgements, but maybe the expectant father book the guy had would give him some kind of sense about how to deal when talking to other parents about their kids.
People could only take so much freaking out before they told you to get a grip.
"She's mine," he replied, undeniably proud about that fact. "Her name's Madeline. I'm Devon."
Rodney was about as good with parents as he was with children. Which was to say, not very.
"Nice name," he said, vaguely aware that was the sort of thing you were supposed to say. "Er, hers, not yours. Not that yours isn't - I'm Rodney. Dr. Rodney McKay. My girlfriend's pregnant."
Not the best, as introductions went, but it was true.
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"And I didn't say I wasn't happy about it," he added after a moment, and this time he did turn to give the other man a dirty look.
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He looked queasy at the thought of it.
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Jack didn't particularly care if his advice was solicited; he'd never cared before the island and he wasn't going to start now. Besides, Jill had seemed to appreciate his advice.
"Congrats, by the way."
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He was working on it, though. All he needed was a Toto.
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He was silent for a moment, looking at his laptop screen. "I hate kids," he said, when he finally spoke up again. "I mean, I don't hate them, I just - I'm not good with them. I make them cry."
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"I'd call this...extensive skimming," he admitted.
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At the moment, Jill was still trying to find the part of her that was supposed to be excited.
"Learn anything interesting?" she asked.
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"Fingernails and toenails don't start to develop until about the fourth month," he said. "Did you know that? I didn't know that. But I guess it makes sense, I mean you wouldn't want something with fingernails scrabbling around in there for too long."
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She seemed happy enough to be there, and as Devon stretched his arms out, he caught sight of the other guy there and the book he was reading.
"That's a pretty familiar sight," he said, looking amused. He still had his own stash of books on the same topic, shoved under their bed to make room for the actual baby.
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"Did someone leave that there or is that yours?" he asked, wondering if it was a boy or a girl. You could never tell, with babies. Rodney had learned not to take telltale colors like pink or blue for granted, just in case. And when it was wearing yellow you were in deep trouble using gender-specific pronouns.
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People could only take so much freaking out before they told you to get a grip.
"She's mine," he replied, undeniably proud about that fact. "Her name's Madeline. I'm Devon."
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"Nice name," he said, vaguely aware that was the sort of thing you were supposed to say. "Er, hers, not yours. Not that yours isn't - I'm Rodney. Dr. Rodney McKay. My girlfriend's pregnant."
Not the best, as introductions went, but it was true.
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