Hey Guys! My first fic! I made the account and essentially left it to rot for 3 months because I realized that… well I had nothing to write about. Huh, how's that for a giant "WAKE UP SWEETHEART" sticker (most likely stuck to the inside of my eyelids). Anyways, enjoy, review (please! ) and constructive criticism is always encouraged! Had to write this about Chekov. I mean, who doesn't love him?!

Disclaimer: I own just about as much as the homeless man that lives at the end of your street…(which depending on the neighborhood you live in, could mean a lot of things) just the cardboard box that can be compared to as the plot.

…so not only have I achieved the ship's coveted most pinched cheek's award, I am now official CPR dummy, thought Chekov as he lay on the gurney in Sickbay with a face redder than Uhura's uniform shirt. McCoy repeatedly demonstrated proper chest compressions to the group of new medical ensigns who were all trying their best to contain their laughter at the poor, young ensign's misfortune.

McCoy had insisted that CPR procedure's were best demonstrated on a real life-form, rather than the 6-D holograms the ship was equip with. Since Chekov was (as McCoy put it) "Young, hearty, and light weight", he made the best choice for his demonstration. When Chekov had suggested that maybe one of the petite female nurses would suffice, McCoy said that a proper southern gentleman never put a lady in "that kind of position".

So, here he was beet-face and sore while countless, nameless faces stared at him snickered behind their hands. Correction, one was not nameless. It had a name that made Chekov feel as though he had been sucking on the tip of a white-out pen. M.O. Gavin Charmont. Yes, it was French, and yes, he was a big-enough ass-hole to correct you if you didn't pronounce it as such (not that he spoke any).

If there were to be a bigger womanizer than Kirk located in the quadrant, he would have been standing not five feet from Chekov. M.O. Charmont had tapped more ass than an inter-galactic pimp and had no scruples when it came to sharing his conquest. The catch: he was only 19 (20 in 3 months, as he reminded everyone). He had been the only competition to Chekov in all of his academy years. Even though they specialized in different fields, there was always pressure between the two of them to come top in the class or impress the most professors. He had been previously been aboard the U.S.S. Valor, but had been re-assigned when all of the ladies on the ship started throwing around the term "sexual harassment charges" a little too much for Captain Ovler's liking. He was only allowed to come on the Enterprise on probation and the terms that he was a "changed and respectful" man. Kirk had taken a shine to him since day one (which was two weeks ago on the day).

He was very young, but as common knowledge states, when there is someone younger then you, you don't get treated young at all. . The entire crew invited him to have a drink when the Enterprise was in dry-dock. He was allowed at all of the "big-boy" lunch tables in the mess hall. And girls swooned when he said their name. All Chekov made the men do was laugh and ruffle his curls while the ladies cooed and kissed his forehead. It made him sick.

"…so if you feel any bruising or soreness just take two of them. Got it, kid?" McCoy asked, shaking Chekov from his revere.
"Oh, uh, yez surr. So, em I free to leef, or waz zer more you need from me?"
"Nope, I'm good for now kid, but I'll give you a holler if – FOR GOD SAKE, DO THAT IN YOUR OWN QUARTERS ON YOUR OWN TIME! CHARMONT, I ASKED YOU 20 MINUTES AGO TO TEND TO ENGEINEER ROSSEN'S BROKEN LEG, NOT SWAP SPIT WITH NURSE KALEB! BOTH OF YOU HAVE JOBS TO DO! DO THEM!" McCoy had finished his tirade just as the nurse and Charmont finished wiping their mouths. Chekov couldn't believe it. Just this morning, he had been playing footsies with a tall red-head from Communications in the mess hall. This guy just never gave up.

"Surr, why do you not rreeport zem to ze Keptain? Zat M.O. needz to be repreemanded."
"Kid, I've tried to get that boy what's comin' to him, but Kirk just says that he's got "spunk". McCoy's ever-present surly brown dropped lower. McCoy was possibly one of the only other people on the ship who detested Charmont almost as much as Chekov.
"Spunk is just bullshit for 'got a lot of balls'" McCoy's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, his eyes popped right back open again.
"Hey, there was a girl in the group we just had, uh, Zeklos, Yeah, Zeklos. Ensign Zeklos. She's actually down in Armory and Artillery. Tiny, pretty, little thing, really atypical arms specialist. Anyways, do you know her?"

Chekov hadn't noticed much lying on the gurney. He had been concentrating on keeping his blushing to a minimum (and failed). "No surr, I notized no one firmiliar in ze group. Why do you ask?"
"Well, she kept starin' at yeah like she felt bad. Everyone one else wasn't so… understanding. Just wondering if she had met you before, that's all". McCoy turned back to a table at which he had been sorting hypo-sprays. Chekov hadn't met this girl, and if she had seen his humiliating duty of real-life CPR doll, maybe he didn't want to.

No worries, he will. If I have messed up epically, please let me no ASAP!

And, hey, while your there, maybe write down the things you did like. Just a thought