Party Crashers (Kirk/McCoy; Sulu/Chekov)
Five times Kirk crashed one of Sulu’s parties, and one time Sulu crashed one of his.
1.
1.
The first time it happened, Hikaru Sulu, Lieutenant and Pilot of the prestigious Starship Enterprise, tried his darndest to ignore it. I mean, it wasn’t as though he didn’t have bigger things to worry about, what with keeping Yeoman Rand away from any more alcohol (seriously, that girl could drink), Ensign Ricky passed out on his bed, and Chekov slowly peeling his shirt off to the beat of a vintage recording of “don’t ‘cha” by some band with a name that he couldn’t quite remember (the kitty cat toys? The feline dolls? Something along those lines).
In fact, after managing to wrestle the jersey back onto a severely wasted Pavel (“Hikashuuu! You are wery lucky zat your girlfriend ez hot like me, yes?” “Yes Pasha, very lucky.”), and grabbing yet another bottle of beer from the waiting grasp of Miss Rand (“Janice, do me a favour and drink this bottle of water” “Izz there booze in it Suuuluuu?” “…If I said yes, would you drink it?”) he fully planned on just kicking back and forgetting all his problems.
However, at present that didn’t seem to be possible, as this problem happened to be loud, flirtatious, and severely drunk Captain James Tiberius Kirk, who was currently slipping the bottle he’d just confiscated back into Janice Rand’s grasp. “God damn it all to hell.”
This is exactly why Sulu stopped inviting Kirk to his little get togethers. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like the man, it was just that the captain would come, smashed out of his mind, and undermine all of Sulu’s efforts to host a relatively ordered party. Sighing Sulu relunctantly untangled himself from where he sat on the couch, despite the protests of a very intoxicated Pavel clinging merrily to his side (“Hikashu! Vere areeeee you goin’?” “I’ll be right back Pasha, just sit tight okay?”). He made it over to the table just in time to intercept the bottle Janice was bringing to her lips, replacing it with her water once more and sending a scathing look in Jim’s direction.
“Captain, you either need to stop encouraging the Yeoman to overdrink -and slow it down yourself- or please leave.”
"Slow it down?” Kirk scoffed, taking a swig of his drink with a stumble and waving Sulu away dismissively. “Thass just ridiculoush. You gotta…you gotta take life at warp shpeed man. Like…fast an’ stuff.” He cuffed the pilot sloppily on the shoulder, wide grin on his features.
“Oh really Captain?” Sulu raised his brow slowly, exhasperation easing down his spine. The man was positively insufferable at times. However, Kirk’s expression changed abruptly and he paled out, murmuring something unintelligible under his breath. Sulu’s brows creased. “What was that?”
“I think I’m…I’m gonna…”
The infamous James T. Kirk then promptly bent over, vomiting the contents of his stomach all over Sulu’s shoes.
2.
Leonard McCoy often insisted that he attended these parties for medical purposes, and medical purposes alone. And although to an extent, Sulu believed him (the man was a saint with a wasted Ensign), he just couldn’t help but notice the flask that the Doctor discretely slipped from his pocket every few minutes or so.
In a way, it made Sulu feel a bit guilty, watching McCoy standing slouched against the wall by the snack table. Before, the man spent most of his time with Jim at these sort of things, but once the Captain’s antics had finally driven Sulu to ban him from his parties completely, McCoy ended up spending most of his time alone.
“How’re you holding up Doc?” Sulu chewed thoughtfully on the end of a pretzel stick, leaning up against the wall at the older man’s side.
McCoy snorted, not even bothering to hide it as he took a long drag from his flask, his face creased in his usual, grumpy expression. “M’fine.” He stated, raising a brow at Sulu. “Just waiting to tend to the first one of you drunken lunatics to drop.”
Sulu nodded, allowing himself a small smile, which McCoy hesitantly returned, before the man’s attention was caught somewhere towards the front of the room. Frowning, Hikaru followed the Doctor’s pointed gaze, a small curse dropping from his mouth. “How in the hell did he-”
James Tiberius Kirk was racing around the back of the large party, a young, wasted nurse slung over his shoulder, kicking and screaming while a crowd laughed around them. Sulu groaned, bringing a hand to his face. How the captain had even managed to get in was beyond him. He moved to stand, when a small sound to his side caught his attention. He turned, finding McCoy red faced, his knuckle placed firmly between his teeth as he tried desperately to suppress the laugh that threatened to escape.
Sulu’s features softened and he took a sip of his drink, resigning himself to stay and wait it out. McCoy didn’t seem to smile like that for anyone else. He sighed, as long as everything was left intact, he supposed that Kirk could stay…for a little while.
CRASH.
Or not. “My Arfillian ficus!”
3.
Sulu could have sworn that the mixed punch was stronger than he’d made it that afternoon. The taste of the fruit was almost completely overwhelmed by the sharp bite of liquor, and it definitely didn’t taste like the champagne he knew he’d mixed in. He winced a bit, holding the cup away from his face and looking around the room. Everyone else either didn’t seem to care, or were too lushed up to notice.
And then there was Scotty, who was standing suspiciously close to the punch bowl, a wide grin on his features. Leave it to the engineer to slip something strong -and most likely illegal in half of this universe’s quadrant- into the mix. He had words, and believe you me, and he was planning on sharing them with the engineer before the night was out. He eased his way through the crowed, eyes focused on the Scotsman who was now none-too subtly slipping a bottle from his pocket, containing a liquid that looked suspiciously like Romulan Ale. He didn’t even want to know how Scotty got a hold of anything so strong.
Sulu was half way across the room when someone collided with him from behind. He stumbled, not missing the startled shout of “Jim! No!” from across the room before cold liquid splashed down his back.
The pilot froze, his shoulders rigid in shock and his civies positively soaked through. “James T. Kirk.” He stated, turning on the man who was now looking rather sheepish. “I don’t know how you got in here, and frankly I don’t care. But I’m going to tell you this and I’m only going to tell you this once. With all due respect sir. Get. Out.”
“Sulu I’m so-”
“Now!” Sulu watched, arm stretched and pointed to the door, as Jim Kirk rolled his eyes, murmuring what sounded suspiciously like ‘sheesh’ under his breath.
4.
Sulu groaned where he sat on the ground, hands tightening around the tight little hips that rolled slowly into his lap. Chekov met his lips in a chaste kiss, arms working their way around his pilot’s shoulders as their bodies slid together on the floor. It was decided. Whoever thought of seven minutes in heaven deserved some kind of medal.
They’d both had enough to be buzzed, sending their nerves a flame with desire as their bodies rocked together with each kiss, but not enough for their movements to be sloppy with drink. “Fuck Pasha.” He groaned, hands tugging at those tight curls, easing their mouths apart. “You’re so fucking hot.”
“Mm, I am aware.” Pavel teased, grinding down in Sulu’s lap, elicting a low moan from the pilot. “Howewer, You are wery sexy as well Hikashu.”
Hikaru couldn’t help but laugh, dragging Chekov down to him for one last kiss before their time was up. Unfortunately at that exact moment something collided with the closet door, the impact actually knocking the thing off of its hydraulics and sending it crashing to the floor just inches away from where Sulu and Chekov sat. The party went silent outside in the room, the figure a top of the fallen door groaning in pain. “Man, that wasn’t smooth.”
Words could not explain how furious Sulu was. “Kirk.” He seethed, gritting his teeth tightly.
The man winced, raising his hands in defeat as he pulled himself up from the ground. “I know, I know. Get out.”
5.
Sulu wasn’t entirely sure as to how his night had ended up with him waking up in sick bay, but he was entirely sure that somehow, Kirk crashing another one of his parties had everything to do with it. The pilot cringed, easing himself up out of bed, wincing at the pain that wracked his skull. He was going to murder Kirk one of these days. Slowly.
A soft groan at his side alerted him to the other presence in the room, Chekov’s body slumped over the foot of his bed, head resting in his folded arms. Sulu’s heart swelled a little, touched to see that his sweet Pasha stayed with him while he slept. He reached out, gently brushing his hand across his brow, before sighing to himself. He wanted answers, but he didn’t want to wake the navigator up. McCoy was sure to be lurking around the medical ward somewhere, and he was sure that the doctor would be able to tell him the damage.
He eased his feet over the side of the bed, carefully making his way out of the screen and looking around the mostly empty room. It must have still been late, otherwise the morning shift would be busy getting ready for the day. He listened carefully, standing just outside of his bed, a frown creasing his brow. Where was…?
Soft murmurs caught his ear, drawing his attention towards a half closed privacy screen at one of the far beds in the room. Curious, Sulu padded barefoot towards the voice, careful not to startle whoever it was speaking. He peeked his way around the screen, stilling almost immediately at the sight before him.
Kirk was lying in the medical bed, out cold, machines monitoring his vitals as his brows creased in obvious pain. Beside him, Doctor McCoy sat perched, clutching one of the captain’s limp hands in his tight grasp, head ducked low. That’s right. Scotty’d been spiking the punch again, and Jim (who’d managed to sneak inside, much to Sulu’s chagrin), had been helping himself. Maybe a touch too much, as he and the Scotsman had admittedly found themselves pre-drinking before crashing yet another one of Sulu’s get togethers. Sulu’d confronted Kirk, who had been hanging arm and leg around an uncharacteristically disheveled looking McCoy. Needless to say the whole encounter hadn’t gone well, and both Kirk and himself had somehow managed to be on the receiving end of a collapsing snack table and the solid glass punch bowel that plummeted to the ground with it.
Sulu didn’t dare breathe, watching Kirk’s motionless form as McCoy rocked in his seat, cursing under his breath. “You idiot, you stupid fucking idiot.” The Doctor closed his eyes, a pained expression on his features. “You don’t have to make such an ass out of yourself all the time you know, we all see you. We all care about you.” He sounded tired, sad, heart heavy. “You’re not the only one that’s lonely you big, stupid idiot.”
Pressing his hand to his mouth Sulu walked backwards, easing his way towards his bed with his heart pounding in his chest. He’d seen something that was never meant for him, something deep and meaningful. It all made sense now. The way Kirk was acting and the toll it took on McCoy. He suddenly felt heart-broken for those two, ignorant of what they have, lost to each other.
Before he went to bed Sulu managed to maneuver Pavel onto the mattress at his side, careful not to wake the other as he curled into his slim, boney chest. He knew what it was like to be where they were, and lord was he glad he had his Pasha now.
And one time:
This wasn’t a good idea, this really, really, REALLY, wasn’t a good idea. Sulu tightened his hands in his lap, eyes watching the celebration in front of him with a sense of angry trepidation. He couldn’t even believe that Jim was doing this, let alone McCoy actually going along with it. Couldn’t they see the damage they were doing? The pain they were causing each other by going through with this? And for what? Some fucking diplomatic mission on a planet in the middle of butt fucking no-where.
No way. Sulu wasn’t going to let that happen, even if that meant he had to crash this part himself.
Maybe it was the booze that he might now be regretting, or maybe it was just the knowledge of the weight of this stupid thing, of what he’d heard, what he’d seen. These fools were too fucking stubborn to work it out for themselves. But going through with this? Without so much as talking it out? That was a recipe for disaster.
The ceremony would begin shortly, he knew because McCoy and Kirk were being dragged to the front of the room, both looking as uncomfortable and heartbroken as humanly possible as their hands were snatched by some high and mighty priestess garbed in the gaudiest robes he’d ever seen. Kirk’s jaw was set tight, his eyes steely cold in what the crew had come to dub his ‘Captain’s gaze’, and McCoy, McCoy looked just about as close to tears as Sulu’d ever seen the man, and that was really saying something.
Growling the Pilot downed one last shot (fuck it, he didn’t regret the alcohol one bit), allowing a rather concerned looking Pavel to drag him towards their assigned seat in the chamber.
“Ladies and Gentlemen.” The priestess began, gesturing to the amass of her own people, and the select bridge crew that had been permitted to attend from the Starship Enterprise. “We gather here today to bind these two gentlemen in lasting marriage, as to the traditions of our people and peace with Starfleet.”
Sulu tensed, blocking out what the woman was saying long enough to gauge the reaction of the couple to be. If Kirk didn’t loosen up from his ‘business’ attitude in the next five seconds, McCoy’s heart would probably shatter to pieces. Not that anyone else would be able to tell, with the doctor’s stern look and tight shoulders. But Sulu knew. He picked up the tremble in those hands, how his jaw twitched with what had to be grinding teeth, and his eyes. His eyes that looked so empty and hollow that it chilled the pilot to the bone.
This isn’t right. He thought, or maybe he meant to. Because somehow, he managed to say it out loud.
“Excuse me sir?” All eyes were on him now, the high priestess looking on expectantly as the Captain and Doctor flashed Sulu confused looks. The Pilot opened his mouth, falling short of what he wanted to say, before just standing straight up out of his seat. Screw it.
“I said. This. Isn’t. Right.” He marched up the aisle towards the alter, ignoring the stern look that his Captain shot him, dismissing the order of ‘sit down’ that reflected through his gaze. He just kept on marching, bursting the bubble of faked business and responsibility as he came to a stop before the three. “Kirk.” He stated, eyes dropped in the deepest scowl he could manage, voice dangerously close to a growl. “You. Cannot. Do this to him.”
Kirk’s jaw twitched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant. But I think you should sit down.” His eyes were as cold as his words, and Sulu watched as McCoy’s mask fell at the corner of his eyes, true heartbreak shining across the man’s features.
That does it. “You know what?” Sulu stated, voice rising steadily with each incline. “I don’t think I will. Because, if you’ll excuse my frankness sir, I think that you DO know what I’m talking about. You’re just too damned stubborn to admit it.” He was near shouting now, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed in a pure fury that he had never felt in all his years. The stoic, quiet, calm Hikaru Sulu was gone. This, this was a man of pure rage. “You LOVE him. Don’t even PRETEND you don’t because we all see it. We all know it. And you know what? He loves you too. And it’s tearing him apart that you’re finally acknowledging this for the SOLE PURPOSE of sealing a deal.”
Kirk looked shock, his mouth hanging open. “Hikaru!” Pavel’s familiar grasp found his wrist, tugging him back with a sense of sheer desperation. “Please Hikaru, sit back down!”
“I’m not done.” He stated, his eyes finding Kirk once more. “If you continue to delegitimize his affection for you, and your affection for HIM, you’re going to regret this for the rest of your life.” He stepped back, allowing Chekov to clutch at his arm, the younger man’s eyes wide with fear. “I’m sorry for interrupting this, because I know how important it is to the Mission. But I can’t just let you two throw away your happiness for the sake of a freaking treaty.” He turned, storming away with Pavel chasing at his heels, calling at him to stop.
They spent the rest of the ceremony shut away into their room, Pavel stressing about Sulu’s career, their safety, the results of the Mission, while Sulu just sat on their bed, staring at his hands in cold silence. Finally he looked up, grabbing his Russian boyfriend as he paced and pulling him into a steady embrace. “Pasha.” He murmured, brushing their lips together, his eyes soft. “They needed to know.”
Chekov stared at him, shock melting into confusion, before he finally sighed in understanding. “Oh Hikashu.”
They sat together for what seemed like an eternity, before their door burst open and Kirk stormed in. “You…you!” The Captain came to a stop at Sulu’s front, his brows creased and his teeth clenched together tightly. “You humiliated me in front of the ambassador of the planet, defaced my in front of my betrothed and interrupted my wedding day.”
Sulu dropped his head, teeth gritted tight. “Sir, you have my respect, and my loyalty as your crew. However, I will not apologize for my actions today.”
Silence stretched out through the room, and Sulu could practically feel Chekov panicking at his side. However, a sigh soon reverberated throughout the room, the bed dipping as Kirk took his seat at Sulu’s side. “I’m…I’m glad.”
The pilot felt like a vice was released from around his chest, his breath escaping him in one slow swoosh. “So…” He began, risking a glance to his side. “Did you continue the ceremony?”
“Yeah.” Kirk nodded, before flopping back on the bed beneath him. “But only after confessing my undying love to a man in front of half this planet’s population.”
Pavel made a shocked sound to their side, but Sulu merely grinned. “About time.” He nodded to himself, pleased with his decisions for the evening, though his glee might have been at least partially attributed to the alcohol that still coursed through his veins. “Was the priestess angry with me.”
"Livid.”
Sulu wince. “I’m in trouble?”
“Big time.”
He sighed, running a hand through his short dark hair. “Thought so.” Here comes the reprimand. “Shall I vacate my locker, so to speak?”
“What, for preventing your idiot Captain from making the biggest mistake of his life? Naw.” Kirk snorted, rolling himself up and onto his feet. “I’ll pull some strings to get you off the hook.”
"Thanks.”
“No problem. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me I have a certain wedding night to attend to with a certain newlywed husband of mine.” Kirk gave the pair a mock solute, making his way over towards the door, before pausing. “Oh, and Sulu?”
The pilot blinked, looking up towards Kirk, confusion splayed across his features. “Yeah?”
“The next time you have a party, I don’t want to have to crash it, got me?”
“Yeah.” Sulu nodded, smiling despite himself. “I got you.”
//END.