Confessions:

Sulu really, really wanted to pace.

He wanted to walk back and forth across the floor of the ship's bar, but he couldn't figure out why. He was just sitting there, waiting for Chekov - what kind of an idea had this been, anyway? Inviting Chekov (a seventeen year old) for a drink? - and the Russian was Late.

Just when Sulu was considering giving up and walking back to his quarters, Chekov came walking in and sat down next to him.

"Hello," he said nervously.

Sulu stared at him for a second, and then laughed. "What's wrong?"

"Vhat do you mean?"

"You're nervous. Why?"

"I don't like bars."

Sulu laughed some more. "Why not?"

Chekov gave him a dry look. "I am sewenteen," he replied, as if that explained everything.

Sulu sighed and ordered them both drinks anyway.

A few drinks later, and it was clear to Sulu that Chekov had drunk either a) very little in the past or b) not at all. Because the Russian was gesticulating wildly, sloshing his most recent drink all over the place and paying no heed to almost smashing Sulu in the face with his flailing hands.

" - and zen I go the Keptin, because he says so, and he says, 'Chekov! Vhat is vrong,' and I say, 'Nothing, Keptin' because zat is vhat you are supposed to say, and what does he say -"

Sulu lost track of what his drinking partner was saying until suddenly Chekov burst out:

"And zen he asks, 'Are you lowesick, Chekov?' And I say, 'Vell, yes, Keptin! Vhy?' And he ignores me and says, "Vith who?' and I say, 'Lieutenant Sulu, ow course!'"

Sulu dropped his glass and stared at the Russian, who had suddenly stopped talking and had dropped his own drink, adding the crash and the mess that Sulu's had made.

"Forget zat," ordered Chekov with a hiccup.

"Why?" asked Sulu quietly, noting with a slightly distracted air that Chekov's accent grew thicker and thicker the drunker he got.

His question confused the seventeen year old. "I - I do not knov," he replied with a furrowed brow. "But you should still forget it," he added firmly.

"I don't want to," said Sulu firmly.

Chekov didn't respond, just looked sick. Sulu suddenly saw what was coming and ducked out of the way as the Russian threw up all over where Sulu had been a second before. "Come on," said the pilot firmly. "We're leaving."

Chekov didn't make any motion to stop him as Sulu wrapped the Russian's arm around his shoulders and hoisted him to his feet, his own arm around Chekov's waist to support him.

They were halfway to Chekov's quarters before the Russian said anything. When he did it was, "Vhy do you not vish to forget?"

It should have taken Sulu ages to remember what he was talking about. If the subject matter had been anywhere else but Chekov being in love with him, he probably would have no idea what was going on. But as it was, he replied, "Because..."

There were benefits to being drunk, because Chekov got the gist and replied quickly, "You feel ze same vay?"

Sulu nodded, for some reason having had words robbed from his throat.

Chekov nodded as if that made sense. "Vhat nov?"

Sulu chuckled. "What d'you mean?"

They had reached the Russian's quarters, but something told Sulu that he needed to get Chekov actually inside before he could leave him to his own devices, so in they went.

And then they just hung out there for a little while, Chekov sitting, Sulu leaning against a wall. Finally, Chekov replied with a shrug, "I don't knov."

Sulu decided that now was definitely not a good time to kiss Chekov. Even as he decided that, he was walking towards the Russian, hauling him up from his seat, and pressing his lips against Chekov's. Way to stick to your resolutions, he thought dazedly.

The next morning, Sulu woke up next to a very confused and hungover Chekov. "Vhat -" Chekov turned and started as he saw Sulu. Then promptly banged his head against a wall. "Zen it vas not a dream?"

Sulu smiled lazily. "Nope."

Chekov smiled shyly back at him. "It vould hawe been a good dream."

"I think it's better in real life." Chekov nodded vigorously.

They walked onto the bridge together, shoulders touching, and Captain Kirk seemed to read everything about their newfound relationship.

"So," he said, crossing his arms at him with a little grin as they sat down. "Finally figured it out, have you?"

Chekov blushed and stared at his controls, leaving Sulu to nod slightly. The Captain just chuckled and turned back to his chair, pausing only to throw a few last words over his shoulder:

"Sometimes it pays off to fess up."

I love little Chulu fics, and the idea of getting Chekov drunk and what would happen after the fact has always been a thing of fascination and a really bizarre idea that came while I was at a friend's house and we were tossing fanfic ideas back and forth while we read our respective books in the Mortal Instruments series (I being further along than her and getting to say, "I know something you don't know").

So, yeah! Hopes you enjoy, plz review!