Can I just say how relieved I am that you guys really liked Cynthia? :) Thanks for all the positive reviews so far, you guys. It really keeps me going and makes me so happy to hear from y'all!
Don't worry - the next few chapters won't be as depressing (I think). Stick around to find out!
Without further ado - I present bonding time between Chekov and Sulu.
Disclaimer: Naaaaaaaah.
"She's crazy," Sulu says later that night over Chinese take-out.
Chekov snorts. "Yeah, cause I'm not the one in therapy or anything."
"Just cause you're in therapy doesn't mean you're insane, Pavel. Trust me, I would know."
"What do you mean, you would know? You've never been in therapy."
Sulu raises an eyebrow and grins like he has a secret.
"No." Chekov sets down his bowl of hot and sour soup, eyes wide. "You? In therapy? What happened?"
"Let's just say that when I was fifteen, I had a taste of rebellion, okay? My parents were worried, so they signed me up to see a counselor."
Chekov stares at him, eyes wide. "What did you do?" he asks, tone alternately admiring and terrified.
"Nothing to worry about." Sulu relents when he sees Chekov still goggling at him. "Alright, fine. I'd spray painted our entire neighbourhood black. The neighbours didn't really like that all that much."
Chekov guffaws as he picks his bowl back up. "I don't believe it. This explains so much."
"Ha, ha." Sulu takes a bite out of his chow mein. "What, you never did something stupid when you were younger?"
"When I was eight, I set off all the fire alarms in my school." Chekov shrugs.
"That's a pretty lame story."
"I was a good kid. What can I say?" Chekov grins. "Did the therapy work?"
"No," Sulu mumbles around a mouthful of noodles.
"What did your parents do, then?"
"Enroll me in fencing class."
Chekov raises an impressed eyebrow. "That worked?"
"Believe me, getting my ass kicked was a pretty effective way of getting me to shape up." Sulu's head pops up when the buzzer rings. "Visitors? Did we order more food?"
"Yeah," Chekov deadpans, "we ordered pizza, don't you remember?" He slides his fingers across the screen. "Who is it?"
"Let me in and you'll find out," a familiar Scottish accent remarks.
"Scotty!" Chekov hits a button and pulls open his front door. "Hey! It's good to see you – why are you wet?"
"Because it's bloody San Francisco," Scotty gripes, "and it rains all the damn time." His countenance brightens when Sulu turns around, brushing off stray noodles from his shirt. "Hikaru Sulu, in the flesh! Welcome home, sir. Captain. What do I call you?"
"Just Hikaru," Sulu says. "I don't work at Starfleet anymore."
"What?"
"For God's sakes, Scotty, go get yourself dried off," Chekov says, shoving Scotty towards the bathroom and closing the door. "You're dripping all over my floor."
Sulu glances at Chekov as Chekov returns to the dining area. "You didn't tell him?"
"Sure, because I was supposed to know where he was at any given time," Chekov says flatly.
Sulu acknowledges his point with a tilt of his head and a purse of his lips as Scotty comes out, rubbing his head with a towel. "D'ye have a spare shirt?" he asks, and Chekov and Sulu groan when they turn to see him without a shirt on. "I think mine mighta gotten soaked in the storm-"
"Yeah, yeah," Sulu says, grabbing a spare shirt off the ground and throwing it at Scotty. "Here, wear this-"
"I can't wear this, are you mad? It was on the floor-"
"I think my eyes are burning," Chekov moans, only half-joking. "Put the shirt on, Scotty, before I throw you out of my flat for public indecency."
Scotty complies, even though he's grumbling and muttering the whole way. Eventually he joins them at the counter, accepting the steaming bowl of soup Chekov hands him. "So, why aren't we calling you Captain?"
Sulu shrugs. "I just didn't think Starfleet needed me anymore," he says evasively.
The Scotsman catches Sulu's meaning. "Oh," he says knowingly. "Alright. I got it. So what are you doing these days, then?"
"I'm working as an accountant. Nothing interesting. Here, you want some noodles? I have too much."
Chekov narrows his eyes at Sulu's obvious skirting of the subject, but doesn't say anything. "So, Scotty," he says when Scotty's got his mouth full with food and can't grill Sulu any more, "where have you been gone to? What exciting adventures do you have to tell us?"
"Mmmmfff," is Scotty's answer through a mouthful of noodles. Sulu glances at Chekov and nods his thanks.
Chekov nods back in response.
Scotty spends the next thirty minutes regaling Sulu and Chekov with stories from his explorations in Arizona. Chekov and Sulu obligingly listen, even if they can sense the exaggeration prevalent in each one of Scotty's stories; they're good listeners, if anything. Finally, Scotty concludes his epic story by finishing, "And that's how I ended up back in San Francisco on the back of a sardine truck." He downs the glass of soda Chekov dutifully hands him. "So, Hikaru, are you staying here then?"
"For now," Sulu says, "until Pavel kicks me out or I find my own place – whichever one comes first."
"You do snore really loudly," Chekov says dryly.
Sulu throws a napkin at Chekov's head. "Do you have somewhere to sleep, Scotty?" he asks as Chekov dodges the missile, laughing. "I don't mind going somewhere for the night if you're crashing here-"
"Nah," Scotty says dismissively. "I can make my own plans. Speaking of plans, lad, where'd you put the card I gave you? Maybe I'll call Cynthia, see if she wants to reconnect, if you know what I mean."
Chekov groans, even as he hands Scotty the card. "Scotty."
"Sorry, have I used that line before?"
"Unfortunately."
"Did you ever call her?" Scotty asks, suddenly remembering the purpose of the card.
"I did," Chekov says. "I just went to see her today for the first time, actually."
"Yeah? What did you think of her? Piece of work, isn't she?"
"Oh, absolutely," Sulu mutters, and Chekov chokes back a laugh.
"She's… energetic," he says diplomatically while trying not to chortle at Sulu's incredulous expression. "I can see why you two are friends."
"God, we were terrors out on the playground," Scotty says, smiling fondly at the memory. "A lot of screaming. Hasn't really changed these days-"
"SCOTTY," Sulu and Chekov say loudly at the same time.
"What? All I meant was that we're both a wee loud, is all! Christ. Get your minds out of the gutter." Scotty shakes a finger at both Chekov and Sulu. "So, you like her, Pavel?"
"Uh-"
"Great. I knew it would work out!" Scotty rubs his hands together, and Chekov can't help but laugh at how similar he is to Cynthia. "Right, lads. I'm off to see my woman. Don't expect me back."
"Don't expect you back?" Sulu says incredulously. "What, you're just going to leave San Francisco without at least saying goodbye to us?"
"You nag too much, Mr. Sulu." Scotty rolls his eyes. "Course I'll be back. I'll bring a sleeping bag when I come over next, if that's okay, Pavel."
Chekov only raises his glass of soda. "My floor's your floor," he says. "Unless you're dripping all over it."
"What have you done to him?" Scotty asks Sulu with mock alarm.
"Only made him a better person," Sulu snarks. He waves a hand at Scotty. "Aren't you supposed to go and find a certain therapist now?"
"Och, you really are a slavedriver. Alright lads, I'll see you tomorrow!" And Scotty disappears out the front door.
Chekov takes a sip of his Coke. "Bets on when he gets back."
"Not till noon," Sulu says, inspecting his now empty take-out box.
"I say before ten, after eight."
"You're on," Sulu chortles. "Easy money for me."
"Yeah, yeah." Chekov grabs the empty dishes and puts them all in the sink, rolling up his sleeves as he works. "What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?"
"Not till nine. Anything else you need me to do around here?"
"Yeah, hand me the forks on the table." Chekov leans against the sink as the tap runs, water sliding down his wrists. "Hey, do you mind me asking a question?"
"As long as it's not about my delinquent past," Sulu quips.
"Trust me, I know all I want to know about that," Chekov says. "Why don't you want to talk about your new job? Aren't you excited about it?"
It's a naïve question, he thinks later. He should have known better than to try and push Sulu for an answer he didn't want to give.
Sulu's answer is carefully measured. "Sure, I guess."
"You guess?" Chekov's voice is incredulous. "You're working in one of the best firms in the city! People would kill to have your job."
"I bet they would." There's a rustling and then Sulu hands him a few forks. "Here's the rest of the silverware. I'm going to bed."
"It's only ten-"
"Yeah, well, it's been a long day." Sulu's tone brooks no argument, and Chekov is suddenly reminded of how closed-off Sulu could be, too. "See you tomorrow morning, Pavel."
Chekov thoughtfully washes up and puts the dishes in the drainer, watching his reflection waver in the distorted window. By the time he gets to bed, Sulu's already got the blankets over his head, tightly curled up in a ball on the couch.
But Chekov knows, though, that Sulu isn't really asleep. In fact, Sulu doesn't drift off to bed until hours later– he only watches the moon rise and fall outside Chekov's window and listens to the sound of everyone else living their life. He half-wishes he could, too.
YAY SCOTTY!
Let me know what you think, as always :)
Much love,
ohlookrandom
