Janet turned towards him and saw that he was intently watching her. He leaned towards her and quietly whispered, "You Americas, so bold, so rash. You run in where angels fear to tread. I am not like that, Zhannochka. However, I will struggle to be so… for you."
She leaned towards him and whispered, "Just be you, Mishka."
"I fear you would quickly lose interest if I were just me," he retorted.
What? How could she not be fascinated, what with Chekov's sly humor, wicked grin and poetic soul, combined with a rather grumpy exterior? Such a grumbling mass of contradictions.
"You have to tell me when I'm being too… American… for you," she requested.
"I'm just assuming at all times that I'm too Russian. Keeps my confusion level at a constant state of High Alert." He nodded his head and she softly laughed.
"What's the Russian philosophy on hand holding?" she asked.
"I'm not letting go, am I?" was his soft whisper.
And he tilted his head and smiled.
Then the bastard winked.
Date night at the movies considered of some serious hand holding. Plus some careful caressing of her hand done under the cover of the darkness. When the movie ended, Mishka chivalrously attempted to assist her with her jacket, but it was awkward with his one good hand.
"We were thinking about dinner and drinks at that Mediterranean place?" Maggie offered. "You'll join us, won't you?"
While Janet was by far the shortest person in the group, she still saw that Chekov and Hammond exchange a wordless conversation about six inches above her head. Quirked eyebrows plus a shoulder shrug and the wordless deal was signed, sealed and delivered. Their nefarious plans for the evening had been derailed, might as well make the best of it.
We will never speak of this again.
"I was hoping to go there," admitted Chekov.
"Hi guys!" Cassie bubbled. Jonas was half-heartedly watching Teal'c destroy Jack O'Neill computerized army on Jack's game console but Jonas brightened, noticeably, when he realized that at last there were two people that would be willing to talk to him.
"Sorry, we're late. We went shopping," Sam explained before she bounced over and sat next to Jonas. She exhaled softly and protested, "Don't tell me..."
"He's still trying to beat Teal'c," Jonas and Cassie chimed together.
"It will never happen," the Jaffa stated. "He lacks the discipline."
"Did you eat?" Jonas asked Samantha. "I'm starving."
"You're always hungry," Samantha reminded him.
"He's a growing boy," Jack sniped as well, he was pouting slightly after Teal'c dismissive comments regarding his gaming skills. "What do you want to try?"
"New Mexican place in Colorado Springs. Supposedly pretty good?" Sam offered.
Pretty good meant pretty packed, wall to wall, and with a wait time of sixty minutes. A poll occurred among the five of them and they decided to try the Mediterranean place across the street. Good ratings, large portions according to Jonas.
They were about to be seated by the hostess, when Cassie gasped, "We need to go, Sam. Anywhere but here."
"But I'm hungry," protested Jonas.
"Is that the General?" Jack asked. He stopped dead, and was then neatly plowed into by Jonas. "With a woman… that looks like Dr. Fraiser. Are they dating? Certainly appears to be a date."
"Uncle George is not dating Mom, he's dating MAGGIE," protested Cassie even while Jonas mouthed, "Uncle George?" and Jack questioned, "The General's girlfriend's name is Maggie? How do you know this? And the fact that Hammond is dating? Why I am the last to know?"
Naturally, no one answered Jack as they were too busy watching Colonel Chekov speak to Janet. The Grim Bear smiled… smiled… when he spoke to Janet, much to the amazement of SG1.
"Then it appears that Colonel Chekov is interested in your mother," Teal'c announced as he was direct and to the point. "I will speak to him regarding his interest. Among my people, when a seasoned warrior…"
"Seasoned? Like curly fries?" Jack snarked.
"Takes an interest in a young maiden not of his affiliation, the first Prime must speak to him, and ensure that the maiden's respect and dignity is maintained. Jack O'Neill, you do not appear surprised by the Colonel's interest. Have you spoken warrior to warrior regarding this?"
Jack bit his tongue and said nothing. It was a smart decision as he could barely prevent himself from laughing at the very idea of Janet Fraiser, Maiden. And really, the less people knew that he and Chekov had a war of words consisting of terms such 'Bite me' the better.
"You have not done so, therefore I must handle it." Teal'c announced.
"Please don't break Misha," Cassie pleaded. "He's returning home tomorrow. Mom really likes him in one piece."
The restaurant was surprisingly slow, so they had their pick of seats. Chekov inserted a request for a table, not a booth, using his arm as an excuse.
"I need to sit on the end," he explained to Janet as he pulled out her chair.
"You southpaws," teased Maggie as she commiserated with Janet. "Dining out with George has many a unique challenge. He knows everybody, plus being a leftie. You're probably have your own war stories. First time I ate at his daughter's, he kept elbowing me."
"Mags," George pleaded.
Janet just shook her head. "I wouldn't know. This is our first time eating at a restaurant."
"We had dinner at the Chinese Dragon," protested Chekov.
"There's real silverware here. You used chopsticks the entire evening," Janet reminded him. "Plus you sat on one side of the table surrounded by Cassie's physics homework."
Mishka just looked at her, and then rubbed his shoulder. "Please excuse me, I need to adjust my sling. I will be back."
He nodded his head and then greeted the waiter. "I'll be back. While we're looking at menu, please bring us a bottle of Chateau Musar Blanc for the table?"
"Excellent choice, Sir!" The waiter bubbled.
He needed a moment to adjust his sling, plus do other things. He was Russian. He refrained from public service announcements because Russian valued discretion. Really, running into Hammond on his first official date with Janet?
It could have been worse. O'Neill came to his weary mind. O'Neill and his fruit baskets, full of kiwis that would kill him.
He went to the men's room, did some private business, washed his hands, unslung himself and stretched his neck and bad arm as much as he could. He closed his eyes and then opened them to see… not what he anticipated in the mirror. No middle aged Soviet Colonels with a bum wing, but Daniel Jackson, clothed in white. The supposedly dead, allegedly Ascended (how?) linguist/archeologist pointed at his eyes and then pointed at Chekov. The meaning was quite clear.
I'm watching you.
If the Ascendant was taking an interest in current events, it seemed that there was nothing worth watching on Ascension TV. No doubt their TV Channels were programmed by the Americans as they lacked anything resembling culture. They were a young country, perhaps in a few hundred years, they might have a Gogol or a Tolstoy.
Or perhaps not. They were the land of the Three Stooges after all.
However Mikhail Kirillovich Chekov was a child of two survivors of the Siege of Leningrad. He would not be intimidated by anyone, especially an apparition in the mirror.
"Don't give me that look, I, and I, alone, helped you when your friend was in trouble. Remember that," he barked.
Daniel continued glaring, so Chekov glared back and escalate their match by throwing in a pair of threatening eyebrow. There was a brief momentary distraction so when he returned to the mirror, it was just he and he alone in the mirror.
Aha! Apparently he could still scare the Ascended Jackson with only a furled brow.
Good God, Chekov had to admit that he looked like hell. Then again, being in America for a month was not and could never be confused with a vacation. Especially with O'Neill and his kiwis.
He washed his hands again, reslung his arm and turned around to face…
Teal'c.
"Colonel Chekov," the Jaffa intoned.
Chekov nodded his head in acknowledgement.
"Jack O'Neill should be speaking to you. However, I have decided he has delayed long enough. Colonel, among my people…"
Oh good God above, not the JAFFA. Janet Fraiser had apparently fooled all the men at the Base into thinking she was a weak damsel in need of protection. HA! Showed him how well they knew the little spitfire.
Not at all!
"When a warrior of another allegiance takes an interest in a Healer such as Dr. Fraiser, a warrior of the Healer's tribe will speak to him."
Chekov exhaled. Loudly.
"It is proper that you are wooing her under the auspices of General Hammond. When first I courted Drey'auc of the Cord'ai Plains, Master Bra'tac was present. It is… good… that you show her deference. I approve of your relationship."
Chekov blinked once, twice and then three times in rapid succession.
Teal'c then stepped closer to Chekov and announced in a prophetic tone, "Dishonor her and I will kill you. Slowly, painfully."
Really, Chekov had enough of the goddamn Americans and their buddies, so he stepped toe to toe to Teal'c. Chekov looked up at the alien who could easily slaughter him and serve for toast, and he bluffed. "Do you really believe that if I dishonor her that she will leave enough of me so you can have a piece? I rather doubt it."
Teal'c reflected on Chekov and his protestations and stepped back one step in respect, it seemed. He nodded his head once, and stated, "You are quite correct. She is a warrior."
"Thank God, someone here acknowledges that," Chekov protested. "And though she be but little, she is fierce."