Sulu did not intend to yawn noticeably. He tucked his face into his shoulder, and tried to be quiet.
Chekov noticed, and giggled.
"What?" he returned his hands to the controls, "Don't pretend like you never get bored."
The ensign could not compose a response, before Captain Kirk interrupted:
"End of your shift, Mister Sulu?"
He yawned again, while Chekov watched with wide, jealous eyes.
"Nearly, Sir."
"Why don't you call it a night?"
Sulu glanced smugly at Chekov, who immediately rehearsed his own yawning pattern, and rubbed his eyes with one sleeve.
"Thank you, Captain," Sulu stood and resigned the controls to their automatic setting.
"Vhere are you going?" Chekov asked, turning dramatically in his seat.
Although it was rare for Sulu and Chekov to have entire off-shifts overlapping, they liked to meet whenever possible. Usually, they would share a meal, compare their somehow distinct versions of the day, and make completely pointless wagers.
"Just like we said yesterday," Sulu shrugged, "I've got decorating to do."
In the background, Kirk smiled.
"Vhere?"
Warmly, Sulu tapped the ensign's shoulder.
"You'll find me."
Sulu had been gone no more than ten minutes. Chekov turned his head toward the lift every time he heard the doors opening, and even a few times when it was unoccupied.
"Anxious, Mister Chekov?" the captain asked.
"No, Sir."
"Bored?"
He was silent, but his nodding betrayed him. He did not intend it to be detectable, but could hear the captain chuckling.
"Why don't you go and find Mister Sulu, and then come back to finish your shift?"
"Of course, Keptin. Vhatever you'd like."
"Go on, Mister Chekov. I think we can manage without you for five minutes."
"Five meenutes!" laughed Chekov, already summoning the lift, "Zat is not enough time to search ze whole ship."
"I have a feeling you know where to look," Kirk noted, as the turbo-lift sealed. Chekov accepted this as a challenge.
Mostly out of habit, Chekov stepped from the lift as it reached the floor of his cabin. He shrugged and scolded himself as he dashed toward his room, confident Sulu would not be there.
After glancing quickly into his empty room, he completed his circle to the turbo-lift. Sulu's quarters, next. He counted each elapsing second, and glared at the floors that flickered past.
He ran in another circle, upon finding Sulu's room dark and quiet.
It was always the third choice.
Sulu was waiting in his garden-room, sprinkling water over a hesitant pot of poinsettias.
"They didn't let you go, too?" he started, baring glancing up. Chekov stood and panted in the entryway.
"Not for long," said Chekov, "But I vanted to know vhere to meet you."
"…Here."
Sulu set down the dish of water, and dried his fingers on his uniform.
"But ze… ze food!"
The lieutenant took his time in answering, enjoying the look of panic Chekov so rarely displayed.
"We don't have to do dinner."
Chekov stepped forward, quickly and nervously. The doors attempted to close, nudging his shoulder.
He stood reluctantly in the room.
"I must return to ze Bridge," he said, over and over. The door eventually opened, while Sulu watched and laughed.
"Sure you do," he said, "I'll bring us dinner, Mister Chekov. And then we can finish decorating."
"Zis is a promise?" he spun to face him, still preparing to speed back toward the lift.
"I believe it's called a 'date.'"
We'll face unafraid
The plans that we've made,
Walking in a winter wonderland.