The Vodka Chronicles
Location: Apartments (specifically Sulu/Chekov's)
Characters: Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov
Warnings: Underaged drinking.
It hadn't taken long for the young Russian to charm his way into one of his coworkers hearts. Being so young and living with another seemingly young man meant the woman who ran the register felt sorry for him. He had no problems with this when it meant he got to bring home leftovers that could probably feed five full grown men. Sulu would be happy he brought home food. He thought so at least. He let himself into the small apartment, looking around a little bit. "Hello~ Are you home?" He smiled some, shutting the door before taking the bag to the kitchen.
As it turned out, Sulu wasn't at home. He'd had some errands to do before going home after work. (Work being a job at the local construction site.) With everything done, he finally managed to get home about an hour or so after Chekov. Fitting the key in the lock to the apartment hey shared, Sulu stepped inside. "Pavel? Are you home?"
A quick check of the apartment had given Chekov enough cause for just relaxing. He wasn't hungry enough to eat without Sulu, so, after a quick shower he'd gotten a drink, content to curl up in bed and watch some cartoons. Though, finding the drink he had, he was currently propped up with a few empty unmarked bottles on the nightstand. Yep. He'd missed this. Even the replicators wouldn't let him have fake alcohol. It wasn't like he would have drank to get drunk, though, right now that was probably questionable. America and it's pesky laws. He didn't have to be at work tomorrow by chance, so finding vodka in the fridge just made his day. "Hikaru!" He got up off the bed, and promptly tipped a little, but not so much as he could have. Okay. Maybe he wasn't as tolerant as he thought. It wasn't like he felt like he was going to puke. "I brought home food!"
"Did you now." Sulu blinked, staring at Chekov as he stumbled over. He spotted a nearby bottle and gave a sigh. Well. There went his alcohol. he'd thought he'd hidden it better than that. His lips twitched and he went over to help steady Chekov so he wouldn't fall over. "You're not going to fall over are you?"
Nodding, his lips curved into a lazy smile. He leaned against Sulu when he was close, shaking his head. "The Russians inwented wodka... I have been drinking since I was three." His smile spread, body turning a bit to face him more. "Karushka...are you worried?"
Somehow the idea of Chekov drinking vodka since he was three just didn't seem to compute at all. Such an angelic looking face, getting plastered every day? Does. Not. Compute. "Maybe."
He laughed, a soft bubbling sound that rose from his chest. "Don't be...I will surwive." He cleared his throat, moving to stare at him. "You should drink with me."
"I should huh?" Vodka wasn't something he tended to drink a lot of. Sulu was partial to sake, but what the hell. "If you insist~"
Chekov clapped his hands together, suddenly seeming a lot more vibrant than being tipsy should allow. "Ha! Zis is great." He reached for his hand without thinking, pulling him back and toward the kitchen to get a new bottle for them.
Someone was certainly excited. Shaking his head, Sulu let Chekov lead him into the kitchen. He'd wanted to go there anyway. It was actually kind of cute the way he was so excited.
Once in the kitchen, Chekov wasted little time in opening the fridge to seek out one of those easily mistaken bottles, opening it and looking satisfied when a quick sniff revealed it's contents to him. Yes... "Drink! I am way ahead. You must drink." He turned, holding the bottle out for him."
Shaking his head, Sulu took a seat at the table. "Food first! I'm starving!" However, he did accept the bottle that Chekov handed him. He sniffed the contents, nodding at the smell of the alcohol and he took a sip.
Food? Oh! Right. He'd brought some. He nodded, moving to pull it out and start reheating it, seeminly well accustomed to this much at least. He might not be a very good cook, and lived on replicator food, but he could use a mircrowave.
Characters: Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov
Warnings: Underaged drinking.
It hadn't taken long for the young Russian to charm his way into one of his coworkers hearts. Being so young and living with another seemingly young man meant the woman who ran the register felt sorry for him. He had no problems with this when it meant he got to bring home leftovers that could probably feed five full grown men. Sulu would be happy he brought home food. He thought so at least. He let himself into the small apartment, looking around a little bit. "Hello~ Are you home?" He smiled some, shutting the door before taking the bag to the kitchen.
As it turned out, Sulu wasn't at home. He'd had some errands to do before going home after work. (Work being a job at the local construction site.) With everything done, he finally managed to get home about an hour or so after Chekov. Fitting the key in the lock to the apartment hey shared, Sulu stepped inside. "Pavel? Are you home?"
A quick check of the apartment had given Chekov enough cause for just relaxing. He wasn't hungry enough to eat without Sulu, so, after a quick shower he'd gotten a drink, content to curl up in bed and watch some cartoons. Though, finding the drink he had, he was currently propped up with a few empty unmarked bottles on the nightstand. Yep. He'd missed this. Even the replicators wouldn't let him have fake alcohol. It wasn't like he would have drank to get drunk, though, right now that was probably questionable. America and it's pesky laws. He didn't have to be at work tomorrow by chance, so finding vodka in the fridge just made his day. "Hikaru!" He got up off the bed, and promptly tipped a little, but not so much as he could have. Okay. Maybe he wasn't as tolerant as he thought. It wasn't like he felt like he was going to puke. "I brought home food!"
"Did you now." Sulu blinked, staring at Chekov as he stumbled over. He spotted a nearby bottle and gave a sigh. Well. There went his alcohol. he'd thought he'd hidden it better than that. His lips twitched and he went over to help steady Chekov so he wouldn't fall over. "You're not going to fall over are you?"
Nodding, his lips curved into a lazy smile. He leaned against Sulu when he was close, shaking his head. "The Russians inwented wodka... I have been drinking since I was three." His smile spread, body turning a bit to face him more. "Karushka...are you worried?"
Somehow the idea of Chekov drinking vodka since he was three just didn't seem to compute at all. Such an angelic looking face, getting plastered every day? Does. Not. Compute. "Maybe."
He laughed, a soft bubbling sound that rose from his chest. "Don't be...I will surwive." He cleared his throat, moving to stare at him. "You should drink with me."
"I should huh?" Vodka wasn't something he tended to drink a lot of. Sulu was partial to sake, but what the hell. "If you insist~"
Chekov clapped his hands together, suddenly seeming a lot more vibrant than being tipsy should allow. "Ha! Zis is great." He reached for his hand without thinking, pulling him back and toward the kitchen to get a new bottle for them.
Someone was certainly excited. Shaking his head, Sulu let Chekov lead him into the kitchen. He'd wanted to go there anyway. It was actually kind of cute the way he was so excited.
Once in the kitchen, Chekov wasted little time in opening the fridge to seek out one of those easily mistaken bottles, opening it and looking satisfied when a quick sniff revealed it's contents to him. Yes... "Drink! I am way ahead. You must drink." He turned, holding the bottle out for him."
Shaking his head, Sulu took a seat at the table. "Food first! I'm starving!" However, he did accept the bottle that Chekov handed him. He sniffed the contents, nodding at the smell of the alcohol and he took a sip.
Food? Oh! Right. He'd brought some. He nodded, moving to pull it out and start reheating it, seeminly well accustomed to this much at least. He might not be a very good cook, and lived on replicator food, but he could use a mircrowave.