Disclaimer: Star Trek and all its characters are property of Paramount Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Star Trek 2009 film continuity. Written for Omizu on a meme, where she requested "Sulu centric fic with doesn't matter. [M]ust post it using slut icon however." Which naturally translated into a humor fic about Sulu's, er, popularity. ;) Gen, but with reference to Spock/Uhura.

-----------

The balance of Sulu's new collapsible katana feels off as he swings it. Strictly speaking, it is not a katana, being more of a cross between a katana and a cutlass. A little bit of the East, a little bit of the West, and all Sulu. Sulu designed it himself at age seventeen, though he constantly modifies it, adjusting it for efficacy. Peaceful mission or not, Sulu is no fool—space is a dangerous place, and he plans on venturing into its frontier fully prepared.

"Don't you ever get tired of playing with your titanium phallic symbol?" Uhura asks without looking up from the Vulcan lyre she tunes. Other than the two of them, the lounge is empty but for Scotty, who sleeps at the far end with slack fingers entwined around a cup of coffee and his face resting on a blinking datapad. He snores in time to the blinks.

"I have to test the balance, so I can get it just right," he tells her and retracts the blade. The lounge's diffuse lighting does not reflect off the handle as he turns it in his hand. The blade feels light when retracted, but when extended, it swings too heavily to the left.

"I'll bet that's what you tell all the girls."

"And a few of the boys," he says without missing a beat. "But I try not to brag."

"Of course," Uhura says with a smirk. She strums the lyre twice, humming in tune with it. The sound reminds Sulu of the Buddhist-inspired music his father plays while meditating. He smiles when he thinks of all the times his mother found some Klingon power ballad to drown it out. Buddhist chants and Klingon power ballads competing for attention—no wonder he grew up strange.

"Well, I can't let the captain have all the fun, you know."

Uhura strums another note and shakes her head. "You two are terrible. Though neither of you compare to Gaila. Between the three of you, I'm sure Dr. McCoy stays up late at night, researching cures for sexually transmitted diseases and praying none of you breed."

Sulu grins. Gaila's bright green skin and killer curves captivate at least half the Enterprise's crew. She once told Sulu that she loved him right before ripping his pants off. Sulu later found out she told Kirk the same thing—and at least five other crew members. "I'm not that bad, Uhura. Don't be mean."

"True, but only in comparison to the captain and Gaila."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Spock already snatched up the hottest girl on the ship." Sulu's grin widens. "So, what did you have to do borrow his lyre?"

Uhura arches a brow. "I asked."

"Politely?"

"Of course."

"Very politely?"

"Mr. Sulu, I do believe you are trying to extract intimate details of my relationship with Mr. Spock from me."

Sulu chuckles. "I do believe I am, too. Since we both believe it, it must be true."

"A lady never tells."

"Ah. The perfect trap. If I keep asking, I insult you by suggesting you're not a lady. Well played." Sulu bows.

Spock enters the lounge and raises an eyebrow at Sulu before turning to Uhura. "There you are, Lieutenant. Everything is prepared."

Uhura stands and tucks the Vulcan lyre into the crook of her arm. "Wonderful," she tells Spock with a smile that any man would envy. Spock heads back out, and Uhura follows. She glances over her shoulder and grins at Sulu as she leaves. "I try not to brag, either, Mr. Sulu."

The lounge door closes behind Uhura and Spock before Sulu can retort. He laughs and pulls out his tools to adjust his collapsible katana. As he fixes the blade's balance, he reflects that it is a shame that Spock and Uhura do not seem available for threesomes.

Then he would really have something to brag about.