On a free evening during a long awaited shore leave rotation, the bridge crew had put together a surprise party in the officers lounge aboard the ship to celebrate Pavel Chekov's 21st birthday.
His own objection to it had been quickly negated when he had been ordered by his Captain to attend such a frivolous function, but in a sort of compromise, he was only required to stay for as long as Lieutenant Uhura did. This did not mean much to him by way of taking an early leave, however, as she herself had been greatly thrilled at the opportunity to simply wear something other than her uniform on their first scheduled day off together in several weeks.
Though it had been loud and busy, were he to be as truthful as he ever was, he would be forced to admit that it was not as dreadful an occasion as he thought it might be, and he leaned his back against one of the bolted tables in the corner, dodging repeated questions from Jim and Chief Engineer Scott in regards to how he could 'get a girl like her' while he watched her sway in growing intoxication in the flowing, golden dress he had bought her specifically for this small event.
After more than half of a large bottle of some clear liquid, the scent of which burned in his lungs far back from where he remained observing them, Mr. Chekov had completely lost his ability to speak in Standard, much to the hilarity of his guests. Nyota was one of the only members of the whole of the Enterprise that also spoke Russian, and so she had spent the majority of her time listening and laughing at whatever experience he was recounting to her, steadily adding to her own piling number of empty glasses.
His amusement with her was difficult to contain when she wobbled past the trio of them some time later with another full beer in her hand, yet when she had actually stated aloud that she was drunk, he reached out and plucked the bottle from her grasp, sculled it, and dropped in the recycling port before she could make any further attempt to 'keep up' with anyone else.
She had shouted at him for it, her eyes bright and beautiful with mock indignation even as she braced her palm on his chest to avoid tripping over a chair she had nearly caught her foot on, but his hands steadied her low at her waist in a rather open display of their upcoming marriage that he found he did not overly mind, given how many extra sets of eyes had been following her throughout the evening.
He replaced her bottle with his water glass, staring at her until she finished it to the bellowing chanting from Kirk and Scott for her to chug it, as if it would truly make a difference in her current state of inebriation, and when he took it back from her, she leaned into him, tilting her face up to his in a harrowing effort to equal his height.
"You're gonna have such a hard time with me tonight, Spock. I just know it," she said, and the muscles in his abdomen tightened in a well practiced and effective suppression of laughter.
"A statement which only seems to grow increasingly factual with each moment you have spent away from your station, Lieutenant."
She smiled widely at him, rolling her eyes, and stepping on his toes, as she crowded him back against the table before he pushed her to hold her out at arms length. He had done so mostly for the benefit of his onlooking companions who were finding the interaction quite funny themselves, but she shook him off, and was promptly handed another beer from a quiet Andorian woman that he had seen working in the engineering bay earlier that afternoon.
A hard time, to be sure.