Flying
Chekov has never gotten bored of intergalactic travel.
While others become bored during long warps, Chekov never tires of watching the stars slowly drift past. Not only because they are beautiful, but also because he finds stellar phenomena fascinating. The implosion of stars into black holes, the ever-changing nebulas in which new stars are born. It's amazing, breathtaking.
Sulu doesn't quite share this perspective; while he does like to stargaze, he isn't captivated by the stars the way Chekov is. He is more prone to drifting into peaceful contemplation than in becoming enraptured by a supernova. Kirk, too, becomes tired of watching the universe slowly move past. Uhura is perhaps the least interested of all of the bridge crew; she can only watch for a few brief moments before growing bored. Spock, on the other hand, does not even find beauty in the stars.
Chekov tried, occasionally, to explain the feeling he has when he looks into the stars. He fails, only because he does not know the right words.
He imagines it's a little like what it feels like to fly.
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I'm Late
Chekov stares at the display as Spock's mother slips away.
There's nothing he can do, and yet—he should've done something, anything, to prevent this. Should've factored geological faults into his calculations, should've compensated for the planet's erosion…Anything.
He watches with a shattering heart as the acting captain nearly kills Kirk for provoking him over the loss of his mother.
His fault. It's his fault.
If only he'd been faster.
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Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Earth
Chekov prides himself on independence, on his ability to adapt and cope.
So it is doubly shocking when he falls prey to homesickness on the Enterprise's first real mission.
He's consumed by the need to see his family, eat homemade pelmeni and pirozhki. He misses his mother's warm smile, his father's strong but gentle presence. He longs for the warm fires and bright colors of Moscow, for the spires and murals and snow falling softly in the middle of the night. There is no weather out here, in the void that is space.
Chekov closes his eyes and wishes for home.
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Love You Much Better
Chekov doesn't like the way Gaila looks at Mr. Scott.
He doesn't like the way he looks at her, either, but that can't be helped; Gaila is a sexual magnet. No matter the orientation or species, any creature within a ten-foot radius is instantly attracted to her. Mr. Scott can hardly be blamed.
The problem is that, unlike with the others, Gaila seems to respond to Mr. Scott. It's not just one-sided, the attraction. He's caught a matching glint in her eyes far more often than he'd like. And, really, he can't blame her either; Mr. Scott is funny and intelligent and clever, not just smart, and interesting and handsome and brave and passionate and—well. Chekov enjoys his company.
Soon, he finds Gaila sitting next to Mr. Scott in the mess hall, leaning a little too close for comfort while sharing notes on the warp core, or animatedly talking with the brilliant engineer in the hallway. Clearly, Mr. Scott prefers Gaila over any company Chekov could provide. So Chekov starts spending more and more lunches with the rest of the bridge crew, and tries not to stare over Hikaru's shoulder at Mr. Scott.
He can't be Mr. Scott's best friend any more, but he can sure as hell be the best thing Mr. Scott ever let slip away.
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Alright
Chekov knows there's nothing better than a night out on the town.
It's freeing and suffocating at the same time. It feels good to let loose and get drunk out of his mind with Sulu at his side, each egging the other on. But there's always the looming feeling of having to board the ship again in a few nights. It's an inescapable inevitability.
The two helmsmen go out, get plastered, pass out, wake up, and do the whole thing all over again until they have to go back. And they always have to go back.
Chekov tries not to mind too much. He hasn't, really, until now. It started as a fun escape mechanism, a good time with friends, but now…now it feels tired. Boring. Predictable.
Finally, he proposes to Sulu that they do something other than get wasted in a random bar and spend the next day passed out before seeking out another bar. A theme park, maybe. A boardwalk. A zoo. A museum. Something else.
Sulu, while shocked, wholeheartedly agrees, and they spend the remainder of the shore leave actually seeing the planet, not just the insides of its bars. It's refreshing and informative and wonderful.
Now, Chekov knows there's nothing better than sharing a local confectionary with Sulu and bouncing in the antigravity chamber of a traveling fair.