Xyrophobia
Fear of Razors
Pavel Andreievich Chekov is the Navigator onboard the starship Enterprise. He is unusually mature and intelligent for his age. Often, one forgets how old he actually is. Often, they forget he's only a teenager. Except he is a teenager, with every teenage boy's problems. Nature does not take into account that one is the Navigator of a starship, even the Enterprise.
He walks into Sickbay one morning, with nicks and cuts on his face. Doctor McCoy is on duty and hurries to examine the Ensign.
'Damn it kid, did you get into a fight or something?'
He shakes his head.
'Nyet, Doctor.'
'Then how in the hell did you get these?'
He gestures to the cuts. Chekov looks embarrassed.
'Vell Doctor, I am sewenteen years old. I am still, how to put eet, growing.'
Bones has a fleeting memory of himself at the same age. He gets what he means now.
'Damn it kid! You've got to be careful with those things! They can hurt if you don't know how to use them properly!'
That still doesn't really explain why there were so many cuts on the Russian's face.
'And how in the hell did you cut yourself so many times? Were you shaking or something?'
The teenager looks even more sheepish.
'I do not like razors, Doctor McCoy. Zey are too-'
'Damn it, kid! You should have just come straight to Sickbay!'
He might have been outwardly grumpy, but internally, the doctor feels quite sorry for the young man, who is dealing with a dilemma that no one else on board thinks much of any more. So he patches him up and teaches him how to use a razor properly and sends him on his way. The kid needs a father figure on board, he figures. He's the only one of the senior Crew to have children himself, so the duty falls to him, naturally.
AN: I apologise if my depiction of use of razors/shaving is inaccurate.