(chapter 2)
(love is in the air)

Pavel is still unclear on why exactly he wanted to join Starfleet—why exactly he wanted to extinguish his childhood, why exactly he wanted to stress himself out aboard this stupid starship with all this responsibility.

He's sure it was because he wanted to be apart of the big change, really help make a difference in this world. Isn't that everyone's reason, though? Did he, as a young child, strive to exhibit his scientific and academic prowess? Probably.

He's sitting with Mr. Sulu, Spock, and Uhura in the mess hall, chowing down on a single bag of baby carrots and small styrofoam cup of water. (He always binges after his shift, anyway. Pavel is younger, so this is somewhat acceptable.) (Not really.)

Everyone is enjoying the few moments of piece and the taste of thawed out food until Pavel asks the question.

"Why did you want to join Starfleet?"

All three of them perk their heads up, wondering who Pavel was talking to. He realizes and corrects himself.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry—you all."

Uhura sips some water and drums her painted fingernails on the table. "I wanted to prove myself," she says, and Pavel grins, because he knows that she is far past proving herself. (Pavel knows because she already has proven herself and has done so much more than that.)

"I also wanted to make my parents proud. Make myself into something." Uhura adds, and nothing more. Pavel nods, understanding, and looks at Hikaru, who shrugs.

"I've always wanted to be a pilot, since I was small. The only way to do that was through Starfleet."

Pavel nods at Hikaru, and silently admires the fact that Hikaru really followed his dreams.

Lastly, Pavel looks at Spock, and Spock is obviously deep in thought. Maybe not, though, that's just how he looks all the time.

"And you, sir?"

Spock glances at Uhura for a long moment, and back at Chekov.

"I enlisted in Starfleet because I simply wanted to break the barriers of my home planet. I rejected the offer to go to a
. . . particularly prestigious school of math and science. Being half-human, the council was shocked that I had declined because of my 'disadvantage'—"

"Excuse me to ask," Chekov interrupts, genuinely curious, "what disadvantage is this?"

"My inevitable lineage, half-human, is a disadvantage on Vulcan."

Chekov's brows furrow, and he narrows his eyes, holding up a finger, "But, sir? Is strange to hear this. You are more capable than anyone else. That is not a disadvantage—"

Spock shakes his head, his eyes cold, "Ensign. I do not like to feel emotions, this is a widely known fact among the bridge."

"Yes, but sir, what do you feel when she kiss you on lips?"

Pavel is not going to pretend he has not noticed the little things between the first officer and the linguist. He has seen the tiny kisses in the hallways, the way Uhura leans on him when they are both in the lift, even the way Spock simply looks at her sometimes. You can say that Pavel doesn't get enough credit, but you can't say he doesn't pay attention at times.

Spock's mouth quirks into a small grin, his head bowed slightly, his cheekbones becoming slightly green.

"I feel happiness," Spock says, lifting his head and looking at Uhura, "and undeniable love." Chekov can't help but to bounce in his seat a little bit.

Sulu looks at Pavel, his eyes bright, his mouth slightly open. The pilot is looking at the Russian as if he has just figured out the secret of life, impressed. How can a mere seventeen year old Russian Ensign make a stone cold Vulcan feel—well, feelings—in front of people?

Chekov's silly smile stays on his face as he chomps down on his last baby carrot, and he lifts himself up to leave.

"Later, how you say, gators?" Pavel says happily and walks away, throwing away his trash on the way out. (He actually missed at first, and became embarrassed as he threw it in the trash for good.)

"Pavel," A feminine voice says behind Chekov as he walks through the corridors. The footsteps behind him are soft, light. His footsteps aren't exactly heavy, but they create a louder, more metallic presence. The young man turns around to see Nyota Uhura, and smiles one of his innocent, toothy smiles, which Uhura returns just as enthusiastically.

"Da?"

"I wanted to say thank you, for earlier, in the mess."

"Nyota, is nothing, I promise."

Uhura smiles happily and runs her hand along his upper arm, softly, "Pavel, you absolutely made my day back there. Please, if you need anything, I'm here for you."

The atmosphere around them shifts to an overall sense of happiness, and Chekov can't help but to smile to himself the rest of the way back to his quarters.