The scotch bottle remained mostly full, with Chekov complaining about its poor quality to anyone who would listen. Usually, and only because of proximity, the responsibility was dragged up by a shrugging Lieutenant Sulu.
"It is like vater," Chekov bemoaned, while Sulu tried to turn his chair, "I vake up and vash my face vith it."
"That's the only reason any is missing," Sulu was aware of the game, and completed the turn beneath his breath. The ensign leaned over to look at him.
"Of course," he said, "You didn't think I vould drink it?"
"Never."
Chekov rarely prepared for agreement.
"You did not think I vould consume zis… poor commentary on civilization? Zat I would let zis child's candy-syrup into my body?!"
"I didn't think any of those things," Sulu said, smoothly, "They're all very specific."
"Mister Chekov," Captain Kirk prompted. Both men turned their heads, "I don't think you've been hearing Mister Sulu correctly, all day."
The Lieutenant nodded, but smiled and assured him it was all a kind, harmless demonstration.
"Yes, of course," Kirk continued, "But I don't want you to mishear any of my orders. Is that clear, Mister Chekov?"
He kicked at the gift, still mostly wrapped in the thin fabric.
"Clearer zan zis bottle of newborn baby's tears, Keptin."
Uhura giggled at her console, causing Spock to glance over. Kirk held up one hand.
"Thank you."
For some time, the Bridge was quiet. Uhura clicked away at her buttons. The captain's feet were sometimes dragged across the floor, whenever Spock stood up and moved toward him. Twice, the lift opened. Scotty, then McCoy. Neither stayed long.
Chekov coughed, to gain Sulu's attention:
"Hmm?"
He nodded his head twice toward the floor. Sulu noticed the bottle, entirely freed of its ridiculous wrapping. The doctor had come with the pretense of collecting it, earlier. He had shrugged.
Sulu's response was similar:
"So what?"
Ensign Chekov rolled his eyes, head, and shoulders all at once. He shifted back in his seat, and nudged the bottle across the imaginary boundary which split their workstation in half. Sulu stretched to reach for it, nearly knocking it over.
"This is stupid," he presented to Chekov's shoulder, as he leaned down. His breath was hot.
"It is harmless," Chekov smirked, "You said zis yourself."
The bottle slid back over the line, beckoning Chekov.
"You vin if you pass it ze most, without ze keptin noticing."
Sulu nodded and tried to cough casually. He leaned over and used both hands to move the bottle to Chekov's territory.
"Mister Chekov," Spock's voice emanated from behind them. He stood against the captain's chair, arms folded behind his back.
The ensign did not move. Sulu grinned proudly at his controls, catching his reflection against the viewing screen.
"Yes, Sir?"
Kirk rustled in his chair. One of his hands tapped Spock's arm, encouraging him to continue:
"Are you aware of the new flight heading?"
"Ve are on course for Ari—"
"You did not hear the captain's request?"
Sulu had not heard it either, and hoped the questions would not topple onto him. The blame would, inevitably, but he wanted to at least avoid the questions.
"Yes, Sir, I heard him. But I… zhere vas a ship!"
"A ship, Mister Chekov?" the captain was entertained, "Perhaps I should get my sight checked…"
He looked at Spock, who did not laugh. When he turned to the other armrest, he shrugged upon finding it unattended by Doctor McCoy. He continued:
"Did you see this ship too, Mister Sulu?"
Chekov's eyes were scribbled in entirely, as he faced his friend. Sulu did not look at the captain.
"I did, Sir. We are still on course for Aristotle IX, with current speed just under Warp One."
"Will… evasive procedures be necessary?"
"Not at this time, Sir."
This earned a too-loud sigh of relief from Chekov. The bottle teetered between his feet.
"Good," said Kirk, still completely unconvinced, "Then our stop can wait."
"Vhat stop, Sir?"
Sulu pressed his forehead into one hand, and shut his eyes. His fingers remained nervously alert atop the switches.
"Never mind, Mister Chekov. I'll wait. Mister Spock says it's out of our way…"
It was Sulu who kicked the bottle next. Chekov felt the liquid, dripping onto his feet. He muttered about the deplorable quality of the seal, at which the lieutenant laughed.
"Is everything alright, Mister Chekov?" the captain asked.
"Yes, Keptin."
Sulu continued giggling, shoving his face into both hands this time.
"Did you see another ship?" his voice was disappointingly calm.
"Two, Keptin. Ve must go betveen them. It is ze only safe option."
Kirk nodded, enjoying the game, while Spock watched and decided not to interfere.
"That sounds like it calls for Yellow Alert, at least. What do you say, Mister Spock?"
"If I had seen these… ships, Captain, I would be inclined to agree. I must check my scanners."
"That won't be necessary," Kirk held out an arm, barring Spock's way to the stair, "Mister Sulu can tell us much quicker."
"There are, uhm, no ships visible in this sector, Captain."
He grinned triumphantly at Chekov, who kicked the bottle over with a sneer.
"I think we can call that a 'draw,'" Sulu said, once the captain turned away, "Once you clean these boots off."
He bent one leg and swiveled free of the table, showcasing his shoe in the light.
"It's vater," muttered Chekov, "Don't be a baby."
Sulu picked up the bottle and tipped it over Chekov's boots, too.
"A draw. I'll clean my own."
I saw three ships
Come sailing by
On Christmas Day
In the morning