So this is kinda late, but it makes up for it by being (very) short 'n' sweet. Pure fluff, both Spirk and Scotty/Chekov.
Disclaimer: you and I both know that if I owned Star Trek, I wouldn't be sitting here writing shitty fanfic about it.
"Do you have any siblings? Any brothers or sisters?"
Chekov and Scotty are on guard. Again. For whatever reason, Captain Kirk was antsy about the relative ease with which they took the village - after all, it was strategically important, and the fact that a single company on a suicide mission had taken it was worrying. As a precaution, then, he had guards posted night and day.
For Chekov and Scotty, this mostly means freezing their arses off for several hours and discovering exactly how boring landscape can be. To entertain themselves, they talk.
In response to Scotty's question, Chekov shakes his head. "Nyet. Just me and my mama and papa. You?"
Scotty snorts. "Do I have any siblings, he asks! I'm the oldest o' twelve, I'll have you know."
"Twelve?! So many. What are they all like?"
As he listens to Scotty's account of his siblings, who all seem to be simultaneously the best and the worst people ever, Chekov realises he's happy - happy to be here, happy, somehow, to be freezing cold and staring at an impossibly boring landscape and just hearing Scotty drone on about the time his littlest sister nearly ate a frog.
He wonders why this is, and why he's thinking about the tiny kiss he gave the Scotsman and how funny he felt afterwards. He wonders plenty of things.
"We're here, because we're here, because we're here, because we're heeeeerrreeee..."
Kirk watches his soldiers carousing in the square, singing in a drunken warble and dancing with some of the local girls. It's approaching Christmas, and with no action from the Romulans for weeks, he's beginning to relax.
First Officer Spock, on the other hand...
Jim nudges the other playfully. "Why the long face, Spock?"
Wrinkling his nose at the metaphor, Spock gestures towards the soldiers. "I am simply wondering if it is wise to allow the men to engage in this behaviour, Captain. Would it not be more prudent to order them to refrain for drinking?"
Below, someone has found an accordion and plays a lively tune, accompanied by their resident Scotsman on the bagpipes. Kirk laughs.
"C'mon, Spock. It's near Christmas time and the Romulans haven't shown their faces since we captured this place. Let them have fun." He takes his first officer's hand, smiling softly. "Anyway, there's music on, and it's been ages since we danced together."
Spock puts his free hand on Jim's waist, raising a slanted eyebrow. "Would it not be wiser to dance away from the window? The men might see."
Jim shrugs. "Let 'em talk. I mean, it's not as if we're subtle about this anyhow."
Chekov is at the stage of drunkenness when everything seems soft and pleasant and there's no such thing as a bad idea. So it seems perfectly reasonable, when Scotty has put his bagpipes away and the others are too drunk to focus on anything other than the face in front of theirs, to ask him to dance.
Scotty, for his part, is too surprised by the request to do anything other than nod, so it's his own fault, he thinks, that he's now slow-dancing around the square with a bubbly drunken Russian in his arms. Chekov is tantalisingly close, and Scotty avoids looking him directly in the eyes, choosing instead to watch their feet shuffle across the cold earth.
The boy leans in so close that Scotty can feel his breath warming the side of his face and smell the vodka. "Y...you know, Meester Scott..." he slurs. "You are lovely. You know that?"
Scotty flushes. "Oh. Thank you, I guess."
Chekov leans in until their noses are almost touching. "Nyet. You do not understand what I mean! You are lovely."
He's definitely drunk, far drunker than Scotty thought he was. "Let's get you tae bed, lad. It's late, an' we've got patrol tomorrow."
"I will go to bed, da. But you understand that you are lovely?"
Scotty starts walking him back towards the barracks. "Yes, yes, an' I thank you for the compliment. Nice to see someone appreciates me around here," he quips.
When they get to Chekov's bunk, Scotty manages to get the boy's boots off and him under the covers without disturbing the other, wiser sleepers. He turns to go, but Chekov grabs his jacket and yanks him down, so that they're lying chest to chest on the bed. He looks hard at Scotty. "You are lovely," he whispers, and kisses him on the nose before releasing him.
Scotty stands, looks around once to ensure that nobody witnessed what had just happened, and practically runs off.
He needs to clear his head, or rather cloud it. He needs a drink.
Review, please? :3