AN: Enjoy this silly oneshot. Humour is not my specialty but I'm working on it! Part of my "Zaichik" series but not necessary to read the others first.
Hands on his hips, the youth frowned. "Not to sound ungrateful but why isn't, you know, an actual pilot teaching me this? Like Hikaru—"
"Don't say it."
"What's the point of learning this? Most new models are self-driving anyway."
"Ack!" Wearing nothing but jeans and a white T-shirt, James Tiberius Kirk held up a hand. "It is a rite of passage for every teenage boy to learn to drive."
"But—"
"No."
"Sulu—"
"Nope." Kirk clapped the grease off his hands and closed the hood. "Not getting out of this one. It's my belated Christmas gift. You're welcome."
Chekov rubbed the back of his neck and sighed with a grin. "It can't even be a car from this century. What is zhat? Chrome paneling? Come on."
Kirk gasped. "Don't listen to him, Daisy. My girl is an antique! If you insult the car, she'll get heated."
Shielding his eyes, Pavel scowled at the barely risen sun. "Is that vhy we are leaving so early?"
"You got it." Kirk reached through the window and started the ignition. He stole a nervous look at the McCoy manor. "That and I didn't exactly clear this with Bones."
Pavel's eyes widened. "You didn't what?"
"Quick," said his captain. "Get in!"
The Russian fumbled for Daisy's passenger side door. His butt hadn't even hit the bucket seat before Jim reversed. He braked, the car skidding, and threw the stick into drive.
Pavel stuck his head out the window in time to see a sleep rumpled yet red faced Bones stumble onto the porch. Shaking his fist. Still in his plaid bathrobe, drawl thick enough to stand a spoon in.
"You couldn't have told him last night when you arrived?" Chekov demanded, turning back around.
"We were kind of busy, trying not to die dismantling Alice's obnoxious Christmas tree. I swear I still have some of it pinned in my hands."
"Yeah," said Pavel. "I woke up with fir needles scattered on my pillow."
"So the holiday was good?" asked Kirk, knuckling the boy's shoulder.
Pavel shrugged, playing it cool, but heat prickled his cheeks. "Bones has been very gracious. He gave me chess set."
"Did he?" Kirk tapped the wheel. "That's…awesome? Right?"
Pavel nodded. "I like it very much."
"Good. Now you and Sulu can play again. I mean, since you and Scotty blew up the ship's only set."
Pavel's lips firmed. "Ve do not speak of that."
"What?" Jim snickered. "Because you did it in Uhura's freshly make-uped face or because you were trying to create a 'cognitive relaxant' for Spock's date with Uhura when it happened?"
Pavel groaned to a round of Jim's laughter. "Captain. Does everyone know about zhis? We were trying to help."
"Oh yeah." Kirk wiped his eyes. "Seeing it was Scotty's idea and Spock didn't know about it—I'll believe that when Bones sprouts wings. And a working set of emotions."
Jim took him several miles down the road and parked in a deserted school lot.
"Now what?" asked Chekov.
Kirk shut off the engine and dangled the keys on the end of his fingers. The pair got out and switched seats.
"First step: start 'er up."
Pavel's hands chased over everything, from the visor to the radio buttons. Kirk waited, hands folded. He smiled at the boy. Another five minutes of studying the console and Pavel sat back.
"It's not even a manual transmission," said the teen.
"Hey. My car's old, not ancient."
"An automatic," said Pavel. "Should be simple, then."
Chekov inserted the fob key and the engine purred to life. He tried moving the stick.
"It von't budge."
Jim reached over him and pointed to his feet.
"You have to depress the brake pedal, the wide one, at the same time you shift gears."
"Oh!" Pavel's eyes lit up. "Is just like the baler I drove on the farm!"
Jim paled. "The what—?"
Chekov threw his head back and laughed. In one seamless motion, he thrust the stick into drive—floored it—and braked into neutral, spinning the car in a donut. With a kick of the transmission to reverse, Pavel leveled Daisy with the lot exit.
Jim, who yelled one long note of panic for most of this, stuttered back to life. "No! Pasha, don't—"
Giggling, Chekov roared onto the main drag. Though the early hour meant little traffic, Pavel passed what lone trucks and cars puttered on the road.
Going at speeds that had the dashboard between Kirk's white knuckles.
"Alright. That's good, kid. You can…"
His eyes filled with horror. A dark shape in the road zoomed closer. Pavel smirked. The speedometer pushed eighty.
"Captain?"
"Don't do it, Pavel."
"Captain?"
"That's an order!"
"Captain?"
Jim whipped around. "What?!"
Pavel batted those bashful, mischievous eyes. "I suggest you hold on."
Kirk hollered. Chekov revved the engine.
Daisy soared over the construction ramp. She plunged grill first towards a gaping hole in the closed road, wider than Chekov's bedroom.
Jim stumbled out of the car. He stretched his back, cringing, and scrubbed a hand over his eyes.
"Sank you for the drive, Captain. It vas most enjoyable."
Jim waved a hand, not even bothering to look at the source of the chipper voice. "Just…just park her around back."
"Yes, sir!"
Spying a figure rocking on the porch, Jim dragged himself up the steps. He landed in a heap on a rickety chair next to the man.
"That menace is yours," said Kirk. "All yours."
Bones smiled into his chamomile.
They sat in quiet. Nothing stirred inside the house except Alice, humming over the sizzle of eggs.
"I'm glad you visited," said Bones. "He was excited to see you yesterday."
Jim shook his head. "Merry Christmas to me."
Bones snorted.
"How's he doing?" asked Jim. "Really?"
Bones' face clouded. He frowned for so long that Jim feared he'd offended the man.
"Healing," said the doctor at last. "Not there but…healing. He's so his age in some respects, but he's also an old man, so serious and…"
"Responsible?"
Bones nodded. "He's ten times better than when I took him in, though. No more dissociative episodes, like the one I called you about. He actually smiles now, jokes around. And it's real."
Jim smiled. "About time."
Pavel appeared around the house. Arms folded, he trotted up the porch to stand in front of Jim.
"You're a good actor," said Kirk. "Had me fooled until you started driving like a pro stunt man. I still can't believe we made it over that crater."
Pavel grinned, indulgent. "Captain. I am head navigator of Starfleet's most advanced ship and best friends with a pilot. Do you really think I don't know how to drive? An automatic no less?"
Bones sipped his tea. "This boy grew up practically running a wheat farm."
"I've been driving since I was eleven," Pavel clarified. "I am touched, though, sir. Sorry if I upset you."
Jim smoothed through his hair. "No harm done, Pasha. Not a scratch on Daisy or me. Just give me some warning next time. I'm impressed, more than anything. Sheepish. But impressed."
He high fived the navigator. Pavel beamed.
"Didn't you stop to wonder why I let Pavel go?" Bones asked Kirk. "If I was truly against this, I would've come after you, believe me."
Jim pressed his lips. "When you ran out, I thought…"
Bones chuckled at this. "It didn't occur to you that I wasn't angry but trying to warn you?"
Jim glanced at Chekov. The teen wore an angelic smile.
"Don't buy it," Bones whispered.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Let me guess—he took you for a 'ride' too?"
"Couple of days ago." Bones rung out his tea bag with a raised brow at Chekov. "I don't think my mother will go for a Sunday drive again."
Pavel coloured. "Even Babu said I have a 'lead foot.'"
Bones stood, mussing the boy's curls. The trio meandered inside. Alice set out three plates and another for a barely awake Joanna who stumbled down the stairs.
On the kitchen threshold, Pavel halted. He rubbed his hands together.
"So when do I get a car?"
"You should try a motorcycle," said Jim, eyes gleaming. "Now there's a rush!"
"Don't encourage him," said Bones without missing a beat. "And you get a car when you're old enough to drive my hearse."
He walked away. Jim and Pavel exchanged a wry look.
Kirk snickered. "Shouldn't be too much longer, then."
"I heard that!"
Written in 2016. I need more car stunts in my stories.