NAME: The Mechanics of Love
FANDOM: Star Trek Reboot
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Pavel Chekov; Montgomery Scott; Leonard McCoy; mentions of James T. Kirk; Spock; Hikaru Sulu | Scotty/Chekov; mentions of Kirk/Spock
GENRES: Romance/Humor/Sci Fi
SUMMARY: Scotty and Chekov get into an argument about which science 'love' should go under.
WARNINGS: Chekov's accent, Scotty's accent, slash, swearing, fluff, talk of sex… nothing explicit, though. The fact that I'm still new to this fandom.
AU: Spock/Uhura never happened.
Author's Note: Lookit, another one of these. Hmm…
First time actually writing this fandom. I've been in love with Scotty/Chekov for some time. Something about accented geeks just fascinates me. I've been wanting to write them for an equal amount of time, but just haven't gotten hit with any bright ideas. This isn't a very bright idea, but it worked for me, and it's a start.
Also, I'm sorry for messing with phonetics in Chekov's accent and Scotty's accent. It's been a while since I transliterated a Scottish accent, and this is kind of the second or third time I've fully transliterated a Russian accent. It might be a little off.
I hope you all enjoy what I have to offer for this fandom.
Enjoy and thank you.
It made no sense. To the youngest helmsmen on the Bridge Crew of the Starship Enterprise, it just didn't fit in anywhere. Nor did it fit into the daily routines of his captain and commander's lives aboard the USS Enterprise. Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock seemed to be getting closer, which was well and fine for the young ensign, but it hardly made sense for them to do it. Was it biological? Psychological? Was it proximity? They constantly worked together so of course they would develop some kind of affection for each other, whether it be general or romantic.
It was very confusing for Pavel. It kept him awake often.
One such night, Pavel was lying in bed looking up at the ceiling and trying hard to close his eyes, maybe relax a little bit and get some actual sleep instead of the five hours he was usually getting. Mr. Sulu was getting worried about the young navigator, having to fix a lot of screw-ups from Chekov lately. Sleep just wasn't happening. "Vhy? And how?" he asked himself aloud, not bothering to revert to Russian.
He sat up, dressing himself while he thought. He was getting nowhere staying in his room like this. He would figure this out once and for all so that he could get his sleep schedule back on track.
He started with Mr. Scott. Scotty was from Earth, a well-adjusted planet. Chekov was also from Earth—from his beloved Russia—but he was only seventeen. He didn't know much about the powerful attraction between people. He knew about, had felt it himself many times toward both men and women, but he just didn't understand it. Scotty was older and perhaps wiser about the notion of love.
The Russian whizkid found the engineer sleeping next to a door marked with a red slash, meaning it was either a diode chamber, or you shouldn't touch the door or something really terrible would happen to the ship or its occupants. Pavel didn't think too hard about this as he gently shook the older man awake, "Meester Scott?"
"Och! Wha' is i', lad?" Scotty asked as he started awake and then cracked a few stiff bones and muscles from sleeping crouched like that.
"I had a qvestion to ask you…" Pavel said, then remembered his manners, "I am sorry to vake you for such a… stupid sing…"
"No, no, lad. I'm happy t' help ya," Scotty replied, using the wall to help himself up.
Something in the smile the Scotsman flashed the younger boy made it feel like there were butterflies being released into his stomach. It wasn't a bad feeling, just… very different.
"So… wha's up?" Scotty asked when his spine was finally straightened.
"I have qvestion about… lowe," Chekov replied, flushing slightly on the last word.
"Wha' was tha' last one, lad?" Scotty asked.
"Lowe!" Chekov said, a little louder. His cheeks flushed a little more and his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull.
"One more time, lad," Scotty said, grinning with a mixture of sheepishness and apology.
"LOWVE," Chekov said, not so much louder as punctuated. His cheeks were at full flush, and his eyes had squeezed shut in an if-you-can't-see-me-I-can't-see-you kind of way.
"Ach, love," Scotty replied, seeing the flush and the desperation in his companion's face, "Who is she? That Lieutenant with the dark skin? Or that blonde nurse? Who?"
"No vone for me, Meester Scott," Chekov replied, the silly flush lightening. "Lowe betveen ze Keptin and Meester Spock."
Scotty's face seem to brighten just a little at the confession, but then it faded all too quick, "Ah, that," Scotty replied, the smile flickering. Even though it was a new era for the LGBTQ community, some people had their observations or criticisms. Or the person in question still wasn't Mr./Mrs. Right for their friend or loved one.
"You do not approwe, Meester Scott?" Chekov asked.
"I do approve. It's jus'… I don't ge' i'," Scotty mused, "They've jus' met, so it seems odd that they would even think t'… well, to be like tha'."
"You are like me, in dat respect, Meester Scott," Chekov said. "I vonder how it could happen. So much so, I cannot sleep most nights."
"Ach, poor lad… Wha' theories have ya got, hm?" Scotty asked of the young ensign.
"None. I vonder vich science lowe goes under. Could be anysing."
"Biological. Procreation," Scotty put in, "but Mister Spock and the Captain are both men… I hope."
"Psychological. The term, 'butterflies in your stomach' could be… ze brain's natural varning system zat you have attraction for ze ozer person in qvestion. Attraction in general could be all psychological…" Chekov put in.
"Most likely," Scotty replied, nodding.
They stood around for a moment, the ship orbiting freely in space while most of its inhabitants slept.
"Shall we go wake the good doctor?" Scotty asked, meaning Dr. Leonard McCoy.
Chekov thought it a good idea. Dr. McCoy was a talented doctor, with experience in the fields of psychology as well as biology and medicine. He could be able to help.
"What the hell are you doing waking me up in the middle of what everyone thinks is the nighttime?" Dr. McCoy asked. At least his bedside manner was better than his… normal manner.
"Ve have some qvestions to ask you, Doctor," Chekov said.
"That couldn't wait until whatever morning looks like?" McCoy asked.
"Look, Dr. McAsshole," Scotty quipped, "The kid won' ge' t' sleep without at least makin' a dent in this, could ya take the stick ou' of your arse and talk wi' us?"
Either McCoy respected Mr. Scott's guts, or he was interested in whatever the 'this' was that was keeping the young Ensign awake, but he seemed to snap to attention as he stepped out of his room (or office, as it were) and joined the two in the hall.
"Shall ve go somevere vere ve can sit?" Chekov asked, "Vould some coffee make you feel better, Doctor McCoy?"
Sweet kid, McCoy thought as he put his hands behind his back. He began to walk, "That's a good idea, kid," he replied.
Chekov and Scotty soon followed the blue-clad Doctor to the cafeteria/kitchen area, where Chekov set to the replicator to get the good doctor a cup of coffee… or something at least close to it.
Once everyone had sat down, McCoy turned to Chekov, either frightened of Scotty or simply more interested in what the young officer had to say. "What's on your mind, kid?"
"Low… ve," Chekov replied, not wanting to have to say it three times like he had with Scotty.
"Oh god… Who is she and what did you do to her?" McCoy asked, assuming the worst.
"Not me. I did nosing, Doctor McCoy, I svear," Chekov replied quickly. "I vas vondering about the Keptin and Meester Spock, Doctor. Ve, Meester Scott and I, vere wondering vich science lowe vas in… ve have gotten down to psychology and biology…"
Dr. McCoy sighed, "Look, both of you, I was married before I was enrolled in Starfleet. It was a messy relationship and a messy divorce and here I am. Besides, you shouldn't be messing in Jim and that green-blooded hobgoblin's affairs anyway, even if it does spark your interest in the concept of love," McCoy lectured, "And that's all love is. A concept. Not a science, a concept…"
McCoy took his coffee cup and left. Scotty turned to Chekov and Chekov sighed, not even daring to look at the other man. It was awkward to be in the same room with him, "Unbeliewer…" Chekov finally said.
"Divorce ca' do tha' t' ya, lad," Scotty reasoned, putting a hand on Chekov's shoulder and squeezing it a little.
Chekov found himself flinching slightly, "Lowe is… confusing and fragile," he mused, looking at the older male apologetically for flinching away. "I guess… you cannot scientifically study it, for a person is both sexually and psychologically attracted to somevone. For procreation and for companionship. Nature is bos of zem, da?" he asked.
Scotty found himself blushing, but he forced himself to speak, "But ya canna' procreate if you're gay, lad…" he put in.
"Nyet, I guess not," Chekov replied sadly, as if a theory would never work.
"But… ya still have sexual urges whether your straight or gay or bisexual, I'm guessin'," Scotty put in.
Chekov nodded, staring at the door McCoy left through, deep in thought. "Lowe, though. One can wery vell have sex to procreate… a man and a woman, hyposetically… But to plan to marry somevone of ze same sex… Dat has to be lowe, da?" he asked, turning to Scotty.
Both men had deep flushes on their faces, and to both, the room temperature seemed to spike when they looked into each other's eyes. Scotty saw something in Chekov's green ones and Chekov saw something in the Scotsman's brown ones.
"Hey, Mr. Chekov?" Scotty asked.
"All right, Pavel…?"
"Yes, Meester Scott?"
"Scotty's fine, lad."
"All right. Da, Scotty?"
"This question may no' ha' anything t' do' with the original question but…" Scotty paused, breathing to slow his heart rate.
"Can I… Can I kiss ya?"
Chekov blinked, the flush reddening into a full on blush. "Uhm… da, you.. you—"
But Scotty had quieted the young Russian with his mouth. Because Chekov's mouth was already opened, it allowed the older male to dominate a little and explore the teen's mouth with his tongue. Chekov had kissed people before, chaste kisses from his mother and a stray kiss from his past girlfriends (and one boyfriend), but this… this was different. Not only did it feel almost sexy, but it felt… right. All too soon it was over.
"I… I think ya ought to be getting' t' bed, lad," Scotty told him.
Chekov stood up as if in a dream, "Da… Scotty. You… you too."
Scotty stood up to walk the young man to his room. Outside the doors, Pavel paused. "Sank… Sank you, Scotty…"
"Don' mention i', lad," Scotty replied, now a little shy now in the presence of the Russian whizkid.
Pavel was a little confused as to what to do in that instance, so he went up on tiptoe to kiss the older man's cheek, feeling the rough bumps of Montgomery Scott's unshaven skin under his lips. "Da sveedanya," he said, "Good night, Meester Scott."
Scotty flushed, but nodded his reply. Chekov smiled at him as he opened his door, closed it, and crawled under the blanket. He closed his eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep, not having to coerce his brain into shutting down this time around.