Author's Note: My first full length story for Star Trek story, horrah! I have to confess that there is a soft, warm, fuzzy spot in my heart for Chekov. And I just really wanted to write a Russian accent correctly. Oh, I did run a quick check over this, but I don't have a beta, so there may be some mistakes.

So, review if you enjoy it.
Review if you hate it
(I'm not scared of flames).
In conclusion, just review.

Disclaimer: I don't not own Star Trek. I know it seemed like I did. Just wanted to clear up that confusion.

Warnings: Course language.


The Mathematics of Friendship

Chekov inhaled deeply as he took one more long glance at the mathematical equation on the data PADD. Looking back up, he studied the copy of the problem he had made before him. The boy was sitting on the floor in one of the rectangular observation rooms in which the long southern wall was completely constructed of one huge window, making space visible. Upon the glass, the young man had scrawled the calculation in some sort of white marker.

The math problem was incomplete. Reaching over to some sort of multi-functional device, he pressed a start button on a timer, and in the same instant his hand took off. White numbers and mathematical symbols materialize underneath the pen with inhuman speed. His eyes were darting every which way, mirroring the workings of his mind. The calculation grew spreading across glass, it became so large it caused him to unconsciously rise to his knees in order to reach more fresh space.

"Chekov?"

At the mention of his name the boy jerked in fright, causing his pen to go striking right through his equation. Chekov stared horrified, mouth slightly ajar, at the marred math problem. He tried to speak, but all that he did was utter a small vocalization of disbelief. Blinking slowly, he looked to his left to see his captain standing perfectly still, eyes wide.

"Um...I'm sorry?"

Chekov let his face fall into his hand and began muttering in Russian. He usually wouldn't have shown his annoyance with a superior office, much less his own captain, but he was off duty, however more than that, he had been doing remarkably well on the problem. He'd been so close to breaking his own record on time. So close.

Kirk sat down next to the boy, studying the equation written on the window, "I didn't know you timed yourself doing math problems. I mean, I know you're sort of a genius, but this is a little on the nerdy side, don't ya think?"

The Russian was surprised at Kirk's casualty with him. He did not confess to know their new captain very well, and not at all on a personal level. However, Pavel did confess to loneliness while aboard the Enterprise, and so returned the captain's friendliness in kind. "Oh, eet eez very much on zhe side of nerdy, keptin. However, zere eez not much else to consume my time, might as vell indulge zhe nerd-side," he said with a shrug.

"Huh," Kirk grunted, eyes still glued to the calculation. Then he abruptly outstretched his hand and said, "Hand me the pen."

Chekov obliged, giving up the writing utensil to his captain. He watched closely as Kirk marked out a random cluster of the equation, and re-wrote the numbers in a different order. Handing the marker back to his navigator, Kirk smirked, "You made a mistake."

"Vhat?"

Sure enough, he found his mistake. He ran his hand through his curls, while nibbling on his bottom lip. He have to admit that that it never occurred to him that his captain would be mathematically inclined, but then again, Jim Kirk had made it through the academy in only three years so the facts still added up. The boy's eyes suddenly lit up and a grin spread on his face as an epiphany struck him.

"Vould you like to race, keptin?"

Kirk burst out laughing, "Hell, no! I just earned the respect of my crew - well most of it at least. I'm not gonna go breakin' it by showing everybody I'm some sort of geek - which I am not."

"Are you scared, keptin? Afraid I might actually beat you?"

He knew full well the ensign was goading him, but James T. Kirk always had pride that was to big for its britches. The idea flip-flopped in his brain for a few moments, lips pursed in thought. After a period of pondering, he came to the conclusion that he simply could not be out done by his navigator who was only seventeen, even if the boy was considered to be a genius.

"Fine," Kirk spat out. "But don't come crying when I whoop your ass."

"Oh, you are so on," Chekov grinned back.

After another marker had been retrieved as well as another math problem written on the window, the two crew members sat, hunched and ready to solve. The moment the Russian hit the timer and yelled to start, their actions were a furry of scribbles and mumblings. It was a tight and tensioned race. The captain's jaw clinched, the navigator's eyebrow furrowed. As the clock reached two minutes, Chekov suddenly pumped his fist into the air and shrieked, "Fineeshed!"

"Godamnit!" Kirk's eloquent response.

"I von! I von!"

"Let me see that," Kirk huffed as he shoved the boy out of the way to observe the young man's work. He used more force than he intended to, thus causing the slender Russian to collide with the floor, but Chekov was just snickering as he lay there on his back, laughing about he had beaten his captain.

To Kirk's chagrin, the equation was flawlessly executed. His shoulders sunk in defeat as he repeated his first sentiment, "Godamnit."

Chekov opened his mouth to gloat when he was suddenly interrupted by a request over the intercom that he was required on the bridge. As he picked up his goldenrod uniform shirt, struggling it over his black garment, he asked Kirk, "You vould vant a rematch, eh?"

Jim simply made a small growl in return, not making eye contact as he stared out the window. He listened as Chekov saluted him and turned to leave the room. He cocked his head in horror as he heard the boy gasp and stutter out, "Commander," before hurriedly scuffling out of the room. Kirk blinked at the glass. He knew exactly who had been watching the entire interaction between himself and the kid.

Slowly turning around, Kirk confirmed his suspicions as he laid eye on Commander Spock. He must have been hallucinating though, because he swore he saw the Vulcan's lips upturned ever so slightly in a smile. Jim brought up his index finger and waved it in the air, "You have to swear to not tell anyone, Spock."

"Captain, there is no logical reason for labeling beneficial bonding interactions with crew members as something that must not be known by others," Spock replied stoically.

"That's not what I meant! You can't tell anyone that I do math for fun. The ridicule would never end."

"Once again, it does not make sense for this information to be privileged to only certain individuals." And with that, the First Officer turned on heel, hands behind his back, and began strut off with a glint in his dark eyes.

Kirk luanched himself off the floor and went sprinting after his first officer, "Spock!"


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