A/N: Shout out to everybody watching the Super Bowl today. Enjoy your hot wings! God knows Jaylah does.

And thanks for reading – it's a nice way to work through the cruel demise of Anton Yelchin/Pavel Chekov. Comments/questions/reviews welcome, forever.

Also I'm currently taking Russian classes (unrelated to fanfiction writing), so if I screw things up royally anywhere in the fic, apologies!

"Keptain Kirk," Anya called the second their shift on the bridge ended. "Keptain."

He got up from his chair and grinned. "Hey. You hungry?"

"No, I, well, yes." Anya stuttered. She took a deep breath, ready to condemn the Enterprise to a hunt for the Klingons who killed her brother. "I theenk-"

"Come on! Thursdays are wing nights. It's Mr. Scott's favorite thing – next to the Enterprise itself." He laughed. "Speak of the devil!" Jim exclaimed as Scott trotted down the hall toward the bridge.

"Ah, there she is!" Scotty bounced toward the pair. "Hey, Cap. On for tonight?"

"Of course," Jim scoffed.

"Great!" Scotty turned to Anya and regarded her seriously. "Jaylah wanted me to make sure you knew about Thursday hot wing night. We forget you aren't privy to all of our traditions. This is the best one." He grinned. "So you're coming, then?"

"I don't think I've eaten hot wings." Anya looked between the men. "Zey're chicken wings? Are zey good?"

"Oh, Anya, Anya, Anya," Jim tutted. "You are so obviously not from Iowa. Hot wings are the staple of every bar night, football game, and movie marathon back where I'm from. We will take your hot wing virginity tonight with great enthusiasm."

Anya blushed and Scotty cheered. "That we will, lass. One hour. Bar. Meet us there." He bounced off back in the direction he'd come from, Keenser meeting him halfway.

"Keptain," Anya started again.

"You'll love it. They're not that hot. Well, they are, but not in the spicy way. Just the hot way, you know what I mean? I have no idea what you Russians eat beside borsch," Jim babbled as he started down the hallway.

"Jim!" Anya snapped, grabbing Jim's wrist.

One of his eyebrows quirked in interest. "Yeah, what's up?"

"I think you're right." Anya's heart pounded. "I want to find ze Klingons."

Jim's eye grew wide. "Shh!" He quickly grabbed Chekova and ushered her into an empty conference room across the hall from where they were standing. "I haven't proposed the mission to anyone else but Spock, and you can imagine how he took it."

Anya nodded. "Sorry. But I want to do it. We need to do it. Not just for Pavel. For all of you. Ze crew needs this, too."

"All of us," Jim scolded her. "You're part of the crew now."

"Zis is right," Anya confirmed. Her voice gave away her uncertainty. Two wrongs don't make a right. Ignoring the doubt, she nodded. "We should do this."

Jim reached out and took her hands in his. Anya blinked rapidly in surprise, but Jim didn't seem to notice. "Okay," he nodded. "I'll get you the coordinates the other captains passed along to me. The Klingon outpost isn't far from here. Chart a course and we'll go."

Though she tried to conceal it, a smirk crept onto her face. Justice. Renewed purpose. Strength. A million emotions swelled in her, plus some she hadn't expected. Admiration. Curiosity. After a moment, she nearly snorted aloud at the notion. How typical, she thought, to have a crush on the captain. Pavel had sworn up and down that she'd meet him and fall in love, but she'd rolled her eyes a thousand times. Now she sent up a silent prayer: Pavel, you idiot. Fine. You told me so.

Jim's crooked grin made her want to sweep up and brush her nose against his. She recalled a drunken moment where she may have actually done that – but whether or not it had happened, she couldn't say. Yet now in the moment, something intangible was sizzling in the air between them. Anya didn't care if it was the power of the decision they'd made together or a raw chemistry; she could no longer deny her affection for the cocky American captain.

Jim released his gentle grasp on her hands and instead laced his fingers through Anya's without a word. He took a step toward her and lowered his face to hers.

Suddenly the door burst open and the lights flipped on. A small group of security officers froze in the doorway.

"Oh," a human officer exclaimed. "So sorry, Captain! We had the room booked for seven o'clock, and, and-"

"Quite all right, Officer," Jim recovered. "Just having a quick pep talk in here." He grinned and released Anya's hands. "See you in an hour, Ms. Chekova." He slid past the security officers, leaving Anya standing breathlessly before the group. They filed in and tried not to make eye contact.

After all, if Captain Kirk wanted to have a private moment in a conference room with the new navigator, who were they to say anything?

"Where's Hikaru?" Anya asked as the group began tearing into their food an hour later in the bar. "And Mr. Spock?"

Keenser, Scotty, Jaylah, Anya, Jim, Uhura, Dr. McCoy, and Dr. Greenberg had gathered in the bar. It was Wing Night and Scotty had personally hunted down each of the participants to demand their attendance. Baskets of wings covered the table.

"Sulu had to take care of something on video call with his husband. And Spock isn't a fan," Uhura sighed. "He took one look at us eating wings the first time we did this and vowed never to attend. Nyota held the top bone of a wing and gingerly pulled the meat off with a fork. Her hands were nearly spotless. She giggled. "I admire his knack for cleanliness and order. Too bad. He's missing out on a fun time."

Next to her, Jaylah was ravenously tearing meat from bone with her teeth and wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "Wing Night make rules of Star Fleet all worth it," she commented between bites. She tossed a bare bone into a pile next to her plate.

The pile next to Scotty's plate was only half the size. He regarded her with pride and chuckled. "You don' follow half of them, anyway."

"And who is my supervisor?" Jaylah asked. "The one who is supposed to make me to follow rules?" When Scotty gestured to himself, she continued, "He doesn't make me. So shush, Montgomery Scotty."

Anya sniffed one of the wings on her plate and cringed at the burning that filled her nostrils. "You eat zese?" she exclaimed as her eyes watered.

"It's a bit much at first, but give it a try," Nyota explained. "It's good. Clears out the system."

Doctor McCoy snorted. "In more ways than one."

"Thanks for the medical input, Bones." Jim had already nearly finished his basket. "Keep up, Anya."

"Dig in, lassie," Scotty attempted through a mouth full. "No need to be polite. You're part of the family." He turned to Jaylah. "What else is there that we haven't told her about?"

Jaylah nodded enthusiastically. "Double shift parties. Beer pong." She sucked the meat from another wing. "Birthday parties."

"Ah, yes. If we ever have to work a double shift, drinks at the next wing night are on the captain." Scotty leaned around Anya and poked Jim with his fork. "That's why he never schedules anyone back to back. You're welcome for that, by the way. And on the first Friday of the month we have a beer pong tournament." He thought for a minute. "Actually, I'll make a schedule. Very intricate. All interconnected. You shouldn't miss."

Anya raised an eyebrow. "Are zese mandatory?"

"Mandatory?" Jaylah exclaimed. "No, these are for fun, Anya Chekov. You want to come to these things."

"It might seem like a lot at first," Dr. Greenberg added. "But then you'll get sucked in." She shrugged. "I was just the plus one and now you bet I always have plans on Thursdays."

Everyone rolled their eyes or booed the doctor's comment.

"Plus one?" Bones asked. "Then what's that make me? Your awkward third wheel?"

Cat rolled her eyes. "Well, now at least I'm not the newbie." She winked at Anya. "My would have been sister is here now."

Anya's eyes watered. She was thankful for the cover of the hot wings.

"Told you," Jim commented. He smiled and nudged Anya's leg with his own under the table. "Hope you like us. It's not like you have a lot of other choices for the next five years."

Anya's breath caught in her throat. The warmth of Jim's leg came to rest against hers. His eyes flickered to hers for just a moment – just long enough for Anya to notice him wink. The fleeting thrill was enough to make her cough.

"Too spicy for your palette? You haven' even taken a bite!" Scotty joked, nudging Anya with his elbow – the only thing not covered in sauce. "Toughen up. You're part of the baddest space crew out there. A little hot sauce shouldn' choke ya up."

Anya nodded. "No, just forgot how to swallow my own spit," she recovered. Under the table, she made a slight movement to press her leg back against Jim's gently. Again, Jim's eyes flickered to hers for the briefest instance and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I'm – I'm glad to be here," she announced.

Scotty cheered and held up his beer. "To Anya Chekov for finally accepting that she's stuck with us!"

"To Anya Chekov," the rest of the table cheered joyfully. Beer sloshed and flecks of hot sauce rained down onto the table. No one judged when the new navigator burst into tears.

"Thank you," she wept in relief.

Nyota handed her a napkin and McCoy snorted. "That's not going to get you out of Wings Night. Eat up, Commander."