This isn't as choppy or formulaic as my usual 5+1 fics, hope y'all like it ^_^
Written for the kink meme - y'all will be seeing a lot of those in the next few days, hopefully. I'm finally getting around to uploading them. My livejournal, flit_st_fanfic, has the M and up stories (in other words, the ones with kink in them, lol)
He'd noticed Chekov the first time he saw him - so small, so young, and already on the bridge of the flagship! But there wasn't time to be curious about his not-exactly-crewmates. Still, he saw Chekov's keen intellect, his bubbly enthusiasm, and he was smitten, almost immediately.
So when he and Chekov started becoming friends, he'd let himself hope. The kid was not just smart, he was funny. He knew how to pace himself when he drank. He was fascinated by the engines, though his specialty was navigation and complex mathematical equations.
They were, in many ways, well-suited to each other. They weren't in the same track so fraternization rules didn't apply. Chekov was of age in the eyes of Starfleet and the Federation. If he could just get the stones to make a move...
His heart ached when he found out there was little point in steeling himself to confess. Chekov admitted drunkenly that he was attracted to the ship's doctor, CMO McCoy. And really, how could a middle-aged engineer, usually covered in grease and sweat or worse things, compare with a smart, sexy doctor with an accent that made people think of chivalry and respectful southern gentlemen instead of unwashed highland savages in skirts and nothing else?
And the doctor didn't have an unhealthy obsession with the Enterprise or her engines. Scotty knew he was no great catch. Chekov was brilliant and bonnie and deserved the world, the universe full of stars and wondrous things. Scotty resolved to be Chekov's friend, help him get that universe full of stars - let Chekov be happy even if it was with someone else.
Chekov got drunk again, after a long night hashing out ideas for courting a grumpy doctor. He was so drunk that Scotty ended up half-carrying Chekov to the quarters the navigator shared with Lt. Sulu. And then Chekov had trouble entering his code, so Scotty half-carried him to Sulu's door a few yards down.
Sleepy Asian eyes blinked up at him. Sulu was shirtless, wearing only loose flannel pants. Scotty couldn't help but notice the pattern was similar to his clan's tartan.
"Whassit - Oh, he's drunk again. Can't open the door?" Sulu asked, slightly resigned.
"Er, yeah, sorry...usually he paces himself better," Scotty mumbled.
"At least you brought him back," Sulu managed a tired smile for him, before looping Chekov's other arm around his own shoulders. "I can take it from here, thanks." He turned to Chekov's slack face. "You better not throw up on me," he grumbled.
"Ach, let me help at least," Scotty said, flushing a little. The two of them steered Chekov amongst a small forest of potted plants and then through the tiny shared bathroom. Sulu dumped Chekov unceremoniously on the bed and they tugged off his boots before shifting him on his side. He also tugged a waste bin out and put it by the bed.
"He usually sleeps on his right," Sulu said, "so he won't get confused."
There it was again, the twinge in his chest he felt when he realized he was losing Chekov to other people. It was irrational, to be annoyed that Sulu knew something like that - they were friends and suitemates; it made sense.
Chekov opened bleary eyes and beamed at them, saying something in garbled Russian. Scotty blinked.
"Go to sleep, stupid," Sulu nudged the navigator's shoulder, and Chekov obliged with a wide grin and another bit of mumbled Russian.
"What was that about?"
"I think that's the one he's said means 'you're a good friend,' but I barely understand drunk Chekov when he speaks English," Sulu shrugged.
Scotty closed his eyes. "Right. Well. I s'pose I should - go."
"Thanks again for bringing him back," Sulu said, yawning. "I'm going to bed, you can let yourself out." He stretched and then yawned again, scratching at the waistband of his pants before he turned to leave the room.
The next time Scotty was drinking with Chekov, Chekov thanked him for "taking care of him" and spent fifteen minutes wondering aloud if "Leonard" would take care of him like that.
Scotty struggled to breathe, to meet Chekov's eyes when he reassured the ensign.
It was almost three months into the five-year mission before Scotty's encouragement and Chekov's desires put Chekov perfectly in position to ask McCoy out. The three of them were drinking together on shore leave. Chekov was inching closer and closer to McCoy. McCoy noticed, of course, but didn't comment.
There were no grand pronouncements of romance, no matter what the Captain said later. McCoy found it more comfortable to rest his arm on Chekov's shoulders, that's how close the ensign was. Chekov couldn't take it anymore, one hand gripping McCoy's thigh and the other pulling on the doctor's neck, pulling him into a kiss, which McCoy eagerly reciprocated.
Scotty swallowed down bile with the dregs of his drink, before taking the bottle with him to a different corner of the bar.
He woke up in his own bed with only faint memories of how he'd gotten there, flashes of a command gold shirt and - he was pretty sure those were a lieutenant's stripes. A concerned expression and thin, dark eyes.
His PADD had been left on at his bedside, with a text file he didn't remember writing open on the screen.
You had a little too much last night. You're lucky the captain was passing by, or I'd have spent an hour or more trying to hack your access panel. He also gave you the day off.
It took him a minute to remember that Hikaru was Lt. Sulu's first name.
Scotty replicated some painkillers and had a simple breakfast before he settled into reading technical journals for his day off. It didn't make the pain of what he remembered from last night lessen any, but it was productive, at least.
He utterly lost track of time and was shocked to realize he'd been sitting there for six hours when the door chimed. He got up to let in - "Lt. Sulu?"
Sulu was carrying a covered tray.
"Oh, ye - well, c'min," Scotty mumbled. "Thanks for bringin' me back last night."
"No problem. A friend of mine in the cafeteria said you hadn't been up for lunch, so I figured you might be hungry." He held out the tray with a hopeful, expectant sort of expression that Scotty remembered making more than once around Chekov.
What's more, Sulu had brought him a sandwich.