"I can do zis, I can do zis, I can do zis."
Ensign Pavel Chekov paced his room like a caged animal, his mantra for the past half an hour beginning to grate on his nerves. He clutched the napkin with her number on it in his left hand, like a lifeline, and the phone in his right.
"I can do zis, I can do zis."
He still couldn't believe his luck; things like this happened to him….well, never. He hadn't known girls, women really, that beautiful existed. Who knew he'd meet his match in Iowa?
A visit back to the state so that the Captain could visit his Mother had prompted many of the crew members of the Enterprise to go to a local bar that some had been to before coming to the academy. Local, Chekov had learned, didn't mean in town or around the corner, but in the middle of a corn field.
He wasn't as naïve as his fellow crew members thought he was. He had snuck into plenty of bars and clubs, both back home in Russia and outside of the academy, but regardless of his experience he was instructed by Commander Spock to "not move from the bar area" so that someone would always "be able to locate you should an emergency arise."
And so Chekov had sat at the bar nursing his Russian vodka (he was able to convince the bartender he was legal by reciting his knowledge of the origins of his drink of choice and changing the subject every time ID was brought up), feeling bitter and sorry for himself.
Until she sat down next to him.
She was beautiful, more beautiful than any of the girls back at the academy, in Russia, or any of the females he met on the multitude of planets he had explored. Her ebony hair cascaded down her back and her skin was so pale that it reminded him of the porcelain dolls his Mother collected. For a minute he thought he was dreaming and from there he thought that maybe he should cut himself off, that the vodka was messing with him.
Then she talked to him.
They had little in common, but he didn't care. The way she leaned into him so she could hear him better or when she gently laid her hand on his arm, made him forget they were in a room full of people.
He bought her shots and she led him to the dance floor. Chekov briefly thought of what Commander Spock might say to him if he left the bar, but when his eyes landed on him and Lieutenant Uhura sharing a dessert, he assumed he had nothing to worry about.
He danced with his perfect woman to several songs, the fast ones made him feel awkward, but he taught her some traditional Russian dances to the slower songs, which made her smile and pull him closer.
"Forgive me for being so rude, I didn't even get your name," she had whispered, making him shiver at the contact of her lips brushing his ear.
"Pavel. Pavel Chekov. Vhat's yours?"
"Well, a girl has got to keep some air of mystery around her sugar."
When the couple, as Chekov had begun to see the two of them, had tired of dancing they returned to the bar. The night was winding down; there were only a few people hanging around that weren't members of the Enterprise.
Chekov had been so lost in his conversation with his mystery woman that he nearly spilled his drink when a hand came down on his shoulder. He turned around and was met with the slightly intoxicated smile, courtesy of his Captain, who must've snuck in to join the party hours ago without his knowledge.
He cringed. The last thing Chekov needed was competition from the handsome, charming Captain. He had seen with his own eyes the havoc Kirk's blue-eyes could unleash on women, turning them into putty in his very capable hands. He was doomed.
"Ensign Chekov, who's your beautiful new friend?"
"Um—"
"As seeing I pose no threat," the woman had answered, "I think that information is irrelevant to you."
"Oh feisty, I like that."
"Uh, Keptin did you vant something?"
Pulling his eyes away from Chekov's 'date' Kirk had cleared his throat.
"Yeah, actually it's time to end the love fest and call it a night, so says our favorite green-blooded hobgoblin. So, finish up here. We'll be waiting for you outside."
Chekov hadn't missed the wink his womanizing Captain tossed his woman as he left the bar.
He had turned back to his date and smiled sheepishly.
"I mustn't keep zem waiting. It vas a pleasure spending tonight vith you."
"Same here sugar," she had said, slipping a napkin into his hand. "Call me."
She brushed her lips over his, so quickly he wasn't sure it had actually happened, and left, leaving him staring with his mouth slightly open, in her wake.
And now here he was, alone in his quarters, afraid to call his lady love.
Chekov looked at the napkin and carefully studied the digits on it. It was now or never. He took a deep, calming breath, steeled his nerves and moved to dial the numbers.
"I can do zis."