a/n: Well, it's been awhile since the last chapter, alright? Alright.
Well, this hadn't been a complete failure. The classes were funny. There was a teacher, and everyone had headphones (since everyone did not speak the same language, the headphopnes translated what the teachers said) They had been through six different teachers. The teachers stayed long enough until they thought they could teach the class nothing more. Four teachers thought that McCoy would fail as a vulcan, one thought he'd do fine and the last one, having heard so many bad things did not acknowledge McCoy at all. McCoy couldn't tell if that was bad or not. So, many hours after the classes, Spock would be trying ot re-explain what hte teachers were speaking about in the class. The translators were not the best. In fact, they were down right the worst translators that ever exsisted.
But, while McCoy had not taken to the logic and emotion supressing, he had taken to reading the Vulcan language with great gusto. He was almost as good as Spock. However, while he could read it, he couldn't speak it or understand it orally. This didn't discourage him. He kept reading.
And now, now, McCoy had a fever. He was hot, he hurt. His emotions, which he thought he almost had control over were all over the place. Dammit all, he was so close.
Currently he was curled on the floor of th cave the was his housing. The floor was cold, he wasn't, it was comfy. Almost. Except that the skin not touching the floor and wall were on fire. Fire, flaming, he didn't understand why he had not spontaniously conbusted yet. It burnt and it hurt. And didn't understand what was going on.
The door opened and a pair of feet (he didn't pay attention to whose feet) walked in. They were connected to legs, which, in turn, were connected to a body. After finally gettingover himself he decided ot find out who the feet and legs and body belonged to. Spock. Well, that wasn't too suprising. Spock could be expected.
"I'm hot, Spock." McCoy said matter-of-factly.
"Are you?" He asked, "That is... odd."
"Very hot. I'm on fire Spock. This really sucks."
Spock bent down to touch McCoy's forehead. It was indeed burning. Spock's eyes widened ever so subtly.
"Oh... my." He said. McCoy narrowed his eyes at him. "I was not expecting... this... yet."
"What? Not expecting -what- yet?" McCoy growled.
"You, Doctor, appear to be in Pon Farr." Spock replied calmly.
"Great. Just bloody wonderful. I'm in heat." McCoy said, he changed his position and looked angry at the wall.
"Yes."
"Well, what am I supposed to do about it?"
a/n: I'm being evil. Eeeeeeeevil. Right-oh, I'm not sure where I'll go with this. Considering that this is me, you lot should be expecting me to go the way I probably will, but I might not. Though I probably will. But aren't I evil? Putting poor McCoy through Pon Farr? Heh heh... eeeeevil.
Well, this hadn't been a complete failure. The classes were funny. There was a teacher, and everyone had headphones (since everyone did not speak the same language, the headphopnes translated what the teachers said) They had been through six different teachers. The teachers stayed long enough until they thought they could teach the class nothing more. Four teachers thought that McCoy would fail as a vulcan, one thought he'd do fine and the last one, having heard so many bad things did not acknowledge McCoy at all. McCoy couldn't tell if that was bad or not. So, many hours after the classes, Spock would be trying ot re-explain what hte teachers were speaking about in the class. The translators were not the best. In fact, they were down right the worst translators that ever exsisted.
But, while McCoy had not taken to the logic and emotion supressing, he had taken to reading the Vulcan language with great gusto. He was almost as good as Spock. However, while he could read it, he couldn't speak it or understand it orally. This didn't discourage him. He kept reading.
And now, now, McCoy had a fever. He was hot, he hurt. His emotions, which he thought he almost had control over were all over the place. Dammit all, he was so close.
Currently he was curled on the floor of th cave the was his housing. The floor was cold, he wasn't, it was comfy. Almost. Except that the skin not touching the floor and wall were on fire. Fire, flaming, he didn't understand why he had not spontaniously conbusted yet. It burnt and it hurt. And didn't understand what was going on.
The door opened and a pair of feet (he didn't pay attention to whose feet) walked in. They were connected to legs, which, in turn, were connected to a body. After finally gettingover himself he decided ot find out who the feet and legs and body belonged to. Spock. Well, that wasn't too suprising. Spock could be expected.
"I'm hot, Spock." McCoy said matter-of-factly.
"Are you?" He asked, "That is... odd."
"Very hot. I'm on fire Spock. This really sucks."
Spock bent down to touch McCoy's forehead. It was indeed burning. Spock's eyes widened ever so subtly.
"Oh... my." He said. McCoy narrowed his eyes at him. "I was not expecting... this... yet."
"What? Not expecting -what- yet?" McCoy growled.
"You, Doctor, appear to be in Pon Farr." Spock replied calmly.
"Great. Just bloody wonderful. I'm in heat." McCoy said, he changed his position and looked angry at the wall.
"Yes."
"Well, what am I supposed to do about it?"
a/n: I'm being evil. Eeeeeeeevil. Right-oh, I'm not sure where I'll go with this. Considering that this is me, you lot should be expecting me to go the way I probably will, but I might not. Though I probably will. But aren't I evil? Putting poor McCoy through Pon Farr? Heh heh... eeeeevil.