#drsawbonesmccoy

“Remember, the most important thing is that you are content with yourself.” Spock said to Drowzee. The pokemon only blinked sleepily in response. Spock had been taking his pokemon to the beach for meditation every day since the weather became warm. 

He was fairly certain that Drowzee enjoyed these Vulcan lessons, but he still occasionally felt as if he was keeping Drowzee from his full potential by not battling him. 

“You are content, aren’t you?” Spock opened his eyes, but Drowzee was gone. “Drowzee?” Spock looked anxiously towards the ocean, panic rising in his chest. He was not the strongest swimmer, so he was unsure how he could rescue his pokemon if he was drowning.

But as he stood up, he saw Drowzee strolling down the beach towards someone else. Drowzee was not a fighter, but Spock was still concerned that they would be startled by his presence. As Spock approached, he saw the stranger was actually his friend.

Rain. Blood. Flashbacks of fights and confusion and pain--

The events of that night were never forgotten, they constantly fluttered through Mitarai’s mind, often mixing with all the other sins of humanity he’d witnessed on that video. They showed themselves in the forms of nightmares usually, but sometimes, it was the smallest of reminders that triggered the memories, clutching his mind with a vice grip and sucking the life of out him like a parasite. It all wore him down; he always loved the rain, until that one stormy night where he’d fought Kuwabara...

The breath caught in his lungs as the blond dashed from the city’s alleyway, blood trickling from a deep wound on his shoulder. Those who’d attacked him were nothing but street thugs, bullies - and Mitarai had more than enough experiences with those types -

Stifling fear of the traumatic events poisoning his mind was slowing him down, his fingers itching to use his second monster to finish off the attackers. He’d tried to run from the thugs and their knives, but he’d still managed to get slashed in the shoulder. Luckily, though, that gave him the blood to work with, and combined with the rainwater, he was able to craft a rather large water golem to defend himself.

However, even now that he’d escaped, his shoulder stung and he didn’t know if he was still being chased. If he was, he had one left - just one, and only ten minutes to keep them away.

He could not deny his health needs any longer. He’d been spending extra time sleeping, and at first he attributed this to the emotional toil he’d recently been through, but it was soon evident that there was more to it.

He found himself shivering, even when he was in the higher-temperatures of his apartment. With a sigh, he came to the conclusion that McCoy’s original request that he get a check-up was now sounding quite logical.

Spring was not far off, yet he knew he would be quite cold on the walk to the clinic. He wrapped himself up in a scarf and coat and prepared for the walk. He sighed as he entered the clinic and found that it was also just as cold inside. He looked around for some sort of receptionist but was instead greeted by something else.

“Chansey.”

“Um…” Spock tugged down his scarf from his face and examined the creature. It was a pocket monster; he knew as he had one of his own. He was not, however, familiar with its type, and he’d rather talk to someone that could talk back. “I am here for a checkup.”

“Chansey…” It smiled at him and took a few steps forward.

“Please do not come any closer, I may be infectious.” He took a cautious step backwards.

“Chansey…” It seemed to ignore his warning, approaching once more with a smile.

((who’s getting pregananant

“For the last time, NO.”