(no subject)
TITLE: tell me the story of how you ended up here
AUTHOR: eudaimon
RATING: PG13
PAIRING: Chekov/Sulu
SUMMARY: Epistolary.
A/N: Written for a request made by bzzinglikeneon here. thaursir is an awesome beta (but she knows that) and I love her deeply (and she knows that too). Chekov is supposed to have sort of awful handwriting and, if it's not working for you, you can find a text only version of the story here.
He's grown used to being woken by alarm, a soft a-tonal chiming in the dark. He stirs, his cheek against warm skin and blinks. The numerals on the clock glow gentle green in the dark and, not for the first time, it occurs to him that time means nothing in space. It means something because they say it must. He presses a sleepy kiss against Sulu's chest and rises, feels a familiar ache. Last night, Hikaru fucked him slow and deep, bent Chekov virtually double with his knees hooked over his shoulders. Chekov stretches both arms up over his head and smiles to himself in the dark. Usually, he's dragging himself out of bed at this hour so that he can make it back to his own room before anybody else is awake. It's not that they're ashamed, more than they both intend to be taken seriously in their careers and it's nobody's business, at all.
It's not that they love each other any less.
This morning, though, he gets up and puts his uniform on because there's a mission, because there's a shuttle leaving for a nearby space-station and Chekov is on loan, from Captain to Commodore. There are transporter pads to upgrade. It will only take a day or two.
He throws a couple of things into a bag, stifling a yawn against the back of his head, leans over the desk on one arm to write a note by the glow from the clock and then he's out of the door. He comes back to press a kiss to Hikaru's temple without waking him and then he's gone, really gone, leaving the man he loves sleeping in a rumpled bed that they've been sharing for five years, nobody to wake up with but a stuffed rhino with three legs.
But it's hours until he has to get up yet.
*
STARDATE: 6234.5
STARDATE: 6236.4
STARDATE: 6237.1
STARDATE: 6582.6
STARDATE: 6240.6
STARDATE: 6585.9
STARDATE: 6249.8
STARDATE: 6249.8
STARDATE: 6252.6
STARDATE: 6596.0
*
It isn't until he's there, until the Enterprise is in sight, that Chekov realises that he hasn't really thought this through at all. What will he do when they court martial him? What will he be, back in Russia, with his career over with and done? What if he doesn't get that far: if whoever is sitting in his seat is jumpy and shoots him out of the sky and he explodes in sparks over the green planet?
What if HIkaru is already dead?
He doesn't think about that. So tired that he can barely see, his head aching from the concentration of flying through empty space for so long (how does Hikaru do it, he wonders?) he thumbs open a channel. For a moment, he sways, eyes closed, listening to the static. There's something almost soothing about it. When he was a little boy he used to lie awake in his little bed and listen to the wind blowing through the eaves.
"Shuttlecraft Vespucci II to Enterprise..." he says, his voice hoarse because he hasn't used it in close to a week. "Requesting permission to come aboard."
There's this moment of silence when all that Chekov can feel is the aching throb of his heart.
"Enterprise to Shuttlecraft Vespucci II," says Uhura, unmistably her, her voice low and cool and only just starting to sound surprised. "Chekov? Is that you?"
"It's me," he says, wearily. "I..."
"Get your ass onboard, Chekov," says the Captain's familiar voice. "Bay two. We'll talk about it later."
He's so weary, so heart-worn, that he almost weeps, but he finds enough strength in him to pilot the shuttlecraft home. It's the first time he's ever really flown before. Hikaru taught him, but he never thought he'd have to go anywhere on his own.
Which shows what he knew.
Feet on the Enterprise, he feels like he's coming home. He stands for a moment, swaying on his feet, drags a breath in through his nose and pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows and then he starts to walk towards the doors that lead to the ship proper. In his soul, in his heart, he wants to run but his legs won't let him. He trudges and it's the best that he can do. There's a part of him that knows if he couldn't do that, he'd crawl.
Kirk is waiting just beyond the door, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
"You couldn't have called?" he says.
"Captain, I..."
Kirk holds up one hand, shaking his head. Chekov doesn't stop walking and Kirk falls into step beside him.
"Listen, Chekov. I've got Spock on the channel to the Commodore telling him that we're very sorry our crewman stole his shuttle and that we'll get it back to him in one piece. Hopefully, he'll decide that it really is best to let me deal with my problem in my way."
Chekov can't do anything but nod miserably. He doesn't even look at the Captain. He'll get what's coming to him, and he'll deserve it.
It'll be worth it.
Maybe when he goes back to Russia, he'll learn to be a carpenter, like his father is.
The doors of the turbolift open at sick bay and Chekov goes to walk out and Kirk catches his arm.
"Next time? Tell me when you're in a relationship so that when he gets sick, I know what to do," he says, quietly, just for Chekov to hear, even though McCoy is standing feet away. "And now I"m going to go help Spock beg Stocker for your ass, whizkid. I'll do this because I'm awesome." He pushes Chekov gently. "Go. Sit with him. Officially, you're not even here."
Not much further. He doesn't require much more of his weary bones. McCoy looks at him like maybe he thinks Chekov ought to be forced into one of the vacant beds and, maybe later he will be but, for now, there's only one thing that he needs to do.
In a bed at the end of the bay, Sulu lies sleeping. His face is paler than Chekov has ever seen it, circles of hot colour burning. The flush continues down to his chest. At the side of his bed, there's a pile of envelopes, arranged neatly and everyone one of them labelled,
"Will he live?" he asks McCoy wearily, holding onto the bed so that he doesn't drop down onto his knees. He's so weary. He feels like he ought to thank God for bringing him here.
"Yeah," says McCoy, gruff as ever and claps Chekov on the shoulder, squeezing. "Yes. I'm going to turn the lights down now, if you're staying."
Of course he's staying.
Chekov leans over the bed and kisses Hikaru's temple, not intending to wake him but, this time, he stirs. He blinks sleepily and smiles.
"I was dreaming about you," he says, voice hoarse and Chekov bends to kiss hist throat as he puts one knee up on the bed and climbs right up, toeing off his sneakers before he settles along side Sulu. He's skinny and he doesn't take up a lot of room. He curls in around Sulu as McCoy dims the lights for the night and he drifts off dreaming of walking with Sulu on the surface of the green planet and tonight there will be no alarm and nobody will wake him for hours and hours.
And then he's really home, and home to stay.
AUTHOR: eudaimon
RATING: PG13
PAIRING: Chekov/Sulu
SUMMARY: Epistolary.
A/N: Written for a request made by bzzinglikeneon here. thaursir is an awesome beta (but she knows that) and I love her deeply (and she knows that too). Chekov is supposed to have sort of awful handwriting and, if it's not working for you, you can find a text only version of the story here.
He's grown used to being woken by alarm, a soft a-tonal chiming in the dark. He stirs, his cheek against warm skin and blinks. The numerals on the clock glow gentle green in the dark and, not for the first time, it occurs to him that time means nothing in space. It means something because they say it must. He presses a sleepy kiss against Sulu's chest and rises, feels a familiar ache. Last night, Hikaru fucked him slow and deep, bent Chekov virtually double with his knees hooked over his shoulders. Chekov stretches both arms up over his head and smiles to himself in the dark. Usually, he's dragging himself out of bed at this hour so that he can make it back to his own room before anybody else is awake. It's not that they're ashamed, more than they both intend to be taken seriously in their careers and it's nobody's business, at all.
It's not that they love each other any less.
This morning, though, he gets up and puts his uniform on because there's a mission, because there's a shuttle leaving for a nearby space-station and Chekov is on loan, from Captain to Commodore. There are transporter pads to upgrade. It will only take a day or two.
He throws a couple of things into a bag, stifling a yawn against the back of his head, leans over the desk on one arm to write a note by the glow from the clock and then he's out of the door. He comes back to press a kiss to Hikaru's temple without waking him and then he's gone, really gone, leaving the man he loves sleeping in a rumpled bed that they've been sharing for five years, nobody to wake up with but a stuffed rhino with three legs.
But it's hours until he has to get up yet.
*
STARDATE: 6234.5
STARDATE: 6236.4
STARDATE: 6237.1
STARDATE: 6582.6
STARDATE: 6240.6
STARDATE: 6585.9
STARDATE: 6249.8
STARDATE: 6249.8
STARDATE: 6252.6
STARDATE: 6596.0
*
It isn't until he's there, until the Enterprise is in sight, that Chekov realises that he hasn't really thought this through at all. What will he do when they court martial him? What will he be, back in Russia, with his career over with and done? What if he doesn't get that far: if whoever is sitting in his seat is jumpy and shoots him out of the sky and he explodes in sparks over the green planet?
What if HIkaru is already dead?
He doesn't think about that. So tired that he can barely see, his head aching from the concentration of flying through empty space for so long (how does Hikaru do it, he wonders?) he thumbs open a channel. For a moment, he sways, eyes closed, listening to the static. There's something almost soothing about it. When he was a little boy he used to lie awake in his little bed and listen to the wind blowing through the eaves.
"Shuttlecraft Vespucci II to Enterprise..." he says, his voice hoarse because he hasn't used it in close to a week. "Requesting permission to come aboard."
There's this moment of silence when all that Chekov can feel is the aching throb of his heart.
"Enterprise to Shuttlecraft Vespucci II," says Uhura, unmistably her, her voice low and cool and only just starting to sound surprised. "Chekov? Is that you?"
"It's me," he says, wearily. "I..."
"Get your ass onboard, Chekov," says the Captain's familiar voice. "Bay two. We'll talk about it later."
He's so weary, so heart-worn, that he almost weeps, but he finds enough strength in him to pilot the shuttlecraft home. It's the first time he's ever really flown before. Hikaru taught him, but he never thought he'd have to go anywhere on his own.
Which shows what he knew.
Feet on the Enterprise, he feels like he's coming home. He stands for a moment, swaying on his feet, drags a breath in through his nose and pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows and then he starts to walk towards the doors that lead to the ship proper. In his soul, in his heart, he wants to run but his legs won't let him. He trudges and it's the best that he can do. There's a part of him that knows if he couldn't do that, he'd crawl.
Kirk is waiting just beyond the door, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
"You couldn't have called?" he says.
"Captain, I..."
Kirk holds up one hand, shaking his head. Chekov doesn't stop walking and Kirk falls into step beside him.
"Listen, Chekov. I've got Spock on the channel to the Commodore telling him that we're very sorry our crewman stole his shuttle and that we'll get it back to him in one piece. Hopefully, he'll decide that it really is best to let me deal with my problem in my way."
Chekov can't do anything but nod miserably. He doesn't even look at the Captain. He'll get what's coming to him, and he'll deserve it.
It'll be worth it.
Maybe when he goes back to Russia, he'll learn to be a carpenter, like his father is.
The doors of the turbolift open at sick bay and Chekov goes to walk out and Kirk catches his arm.
"Next time? Tell me when you're in a relationship so that when he gets sick, I know what to do," he says, quietly, just for Chekov to hear, even though McCoy is standing feet away. "And now I"m going to go help Spock beg Stocker for your ass, whizkid. I'll do this because I'm awesome." He pushes Chekov gently. "Go. Sit with him. Officially, you're not even here."
Not much further. He doesn't require much more of his weary bones. McCoy looks at him like maybe he thinks Chekov ought to be forced into one of the vacant beds and, maybe later he will be but, for now, there's only one thing that he needs to do.
In a bed at the end of the bay, Sulu lies sleeping. His face is paler than Chekov has ever seen it, circles of hot colour burning. The flush continues down to his chest. At the side of his bed, there's a pile of envelopes, arranged neatly and everyone one of them labelled,
"Will he live?" he asks McCoy wearily, holding onto the bed so that he doesn't drop down onto his knees. He's so weary. He feels like he ought to thank God for bringing him here.
"Yeah," says McCoy, gruff as ever and claps Chekov on the shoulder, squeezing. "Yes. I'm going to turn the lights down now, if you're staying."
Of course he's staying.
Chekov leans over the bed and kisses Hikaru's temple, not intending to wake him but, this time, he stirs. He blinks sleepily and smiles.
"I was dreaming about you," he says, voice hoarse and Chekov bends to kiss hist throat as he puts one knee up on the bed and climbs right up, toeing off his sneakers before he settles along side Sulu. He's skinny and he doesn't take up a lot of room. He curls in around Sulu as McCoy dims the lights for the night and he drifts off dreaming of walking with Sulu on the surface of the green planet and tonight there will be no alarm and nobody will wake him for hours and hours.
And then he's really home, and home to stay.