withthepilot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
withthepilot) wrote2009-11-29 02:10 pm
withthepilot) wrote2009-11-29 02:10 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: The Bestest
Title: The Bestest
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Chekov/Sulu, implied Kirk/McCoy
Notes: ~1,800 words of fluffy crack. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starsandgraces, with whom I share many bizarre ST-related conversations, including the one that inspired this. ("I think he has a mug that says 'Bestest Pilot' on it. Jim made it." "Omg.")
Summary: Chekov isn't jealous of Kirk's birthday gift to Sulu. No, not at all.
"Okay, this one's from me," Kirk says, thrusting his cube-shaped present toward Sulu without any regard for anyone else. The other birthday-gift givers look on with slight glowers at the way Kirk's forced his way to the start of the queue—Chekov especially. He wanted to be the first person to give Sulu a gift. But he lets it go when the pilot smiles broadly, already tearing at the paper to find out what's inside.
"Oh...wow. Jim, this is..." Sulu laughs and shakes his head fondly. Chekov cranes his head to see what the gift is and scrunches his nose when he sees it's an old-fashioned mug. Sulu holds it up for everyone to see and everyone laughs in gleeful surprise when they read the black writing on the white ceramic: Bestest Pilot.
"I know it's cheesy," Kirk says, shrugging and grinning. "I found it at a duty-free shop on some planet where they're still trying to figure out how to translate into Standard. But you really are the best pilot! The bestest, even!"
"You're gonna make me blush, Jim," Sulu says.
"Open mine next," Chekov blurts, shoving his own gift into Sulu's personal space. Kirk looks mildly put out when the spotlight is taken away. Beside him, McCoy stands with his arms folded across his chest, looking grumpier than usual, darting annoyed glances between Chekov, Sulu and the captain. Chekov doesn't care what the others think; if Kirk can be rude, so can he. And his gift is better than some silly mug made by an underdeveloped race that can't even speak proper Standard. "I looked all over for it."
Sulu opens the packaging with an indulgent smile and gasps when he finds the rare blossom of a Rhondeltan wildflower, a species of flora that Chekov knows he's never been able to find on his own. It took a lot of favor-granting and heavy-duty promises to people in the science department, but Chekov got one.
"Pavel, thank you so much! This is amazing," Sulu says with wonder. Chekov beams proudly even though he thinks he can feel the intensity of Kirk's glare behind him. Sulu, oblivious to it all, laughs and admires the plant. "Maybe I can grow this in the mug Jim gave me."
Chekov stiffens at that, curling his hands into fists at his sides. "Yes, maybe," he manages to say. "Excuse me, won't you? I have a...report to file."
He knows everyone's watching as he stomps out of the rec room and back to his quarters, but at the moment, he could care less.
*
It's a few days later when Kirk interrupts him and Sulu as they eat dinner in the mess hall. He looks like he's up to something, as he often does, and Chekov knows his captain well enough by now to recognize that's never a good thing.
"Hey, guys, sorry to barge in on your meal. But I wanted to give you something, Chekov."
"Give me something?" Chekov repeats, looking across the table at Sulu in confusion. His best friend just shrugs at him and shakes his head, obviously unaware of Kirk's plan, whatever it might be. Chekov purses his lips and tries to look curious. He is a bit curious, actually. "Okay, what is it?"
"Well," Kirk begins, taking a seat beside Chekov without asking and forcing him to scoot over to make room. "I got the feeling at Sulu's birthday party that you were a little jealous over my gift."
"I—I was not jealous," Chekov replies, perhaps a bit too harshly. He doesn't want to let on that Kirk is right—that he was deeply jealous of the fact that Sulu clearly liked Kirk's gift better than that damned flower it took him months to obtain.
Kirk just shakes his head and pats Chekov's shoulder in a way that could be inferred as condescending, though he knows Kirk doesn't mean it that way. "Hey, it's okay. I actually felt kind of bad when I thought about it. I don't want the rest of you guys to think I'm playing favorites or anything. So, here."
He places a box before Chekov that's unwrapped, but the same size as the box he gave to Sulu the other day. Chekov picks it up and glances at Sulu again, who's smiling a little as he chews his food, his brow lifted with interest and mild amusement. He feels the box's heavy weight and suddenly finds himself smiling as well. Kirk has got it all wrong with the jealousy thing, but it's rather nice that he saw fit to give Chekov a mug, too—that he does value him enough to give him a token of appreciation as well. He feels a jolt of excitement as he opens the box and when he pulls out the mug, he pauses upon reading its message, the big smile on his face settling into a thin, straight line.
"Bestest Nawigator," he reads flatly, not bothering to temper his accent. "Navigator" is spelled on the mug with a W, exactly the way Chekov always pronounces it. Kirk breaks into a peal of high-pitched laughter beside him, patting his back and motioning to the mug so Sulu can see.
"Isn't it great? I got the idea the other night and I ran right to the replicator to program it. Oh, man. I knew you'd get a kick out of it, Chekov. Enjoy it, okay?"
Kirk leaves right away and Sulu only manages to pretend he's not laughing for a few seconds, before he snorts and nearly chokes on his pasta. Chekov makes an irritated sound and puts the mug down as Sulu's shoulders begin to shake with laughter.
"You know, it is kind of cu—"
"Shut up, Hikaru."
Sulu clears his throat and nods, continuing to eat. Then he only giggles two more times, after which Chekov promises to kick him if there's a third.
*
The next night, Chekov drops by Sulu's quarters to fetch him for dinner. When Sulu grants him entrance, he walks in to find him watering the Rhondeltan wildflower, which, as promised, now resides in the Bestest Pilot mug. Chekov sighs in frustration and goes to sit on the edge of Sulu's bed, propping his chin in his palm.
"I see you were not kidding about using the mug," he says, a little crossly. Sulu turns and gives him a strange look.
"What's with you and this mug? It's like you hate it or something. Or you hate Kirk; I'm not really sure."
"It's a fine mug," Chekov huffs. He shrugs up at his best friend. "I know you love it."
"Well, I mean, it's sweet. And it was nice of Kirk to think of me. It's not like it's the best gift I've ever gotten, though."
"No?" Chekov answers, lifting his head.
"Nah." Sulu waves his hand, sitting down beside Chekov and rubbing his back lightly. "I don't think anything can ever beat that wildflower, Pavel. I mean, I've been trying to get a hold of one of those for years and it's totally impossible, they're so rare. I can't even imagine the kind of strings you pulled to get it for me. It's really just the most thoughtful present ever."
"Well," Chekov says, suddenly smiling shyly. "It was not that much trouble, really."
"Ah, don't be modest; it doesn't look good on you. I know you owe someone in the biology lab your firstborn, so really..." Sulu shrugs one shoulder and hesitates before leaning in and giving Chekov the gentlest of pecks on the cheek—so soft that Chekov almost wonders if he's imagined it. Sulu ducks his head and gives his shoulder a squeeze, nodding. "Thanks."
"Welcome," Chekov replies quietly. He lets a few seconds tick by before he gets up the courage to lean close to his best friend again, and to aim for his lips instead of his cheek. A little thrill goes through him when he meets his target and the reception on Sulu's end is more than welcoming.
*
The alarm goes off earlier than usual and Sulu makes an annoyed noise in his sleep, turning away from both Chekov and the alarm. He pulls his pillow over his head and grouses to himself, just loud enough for Chekov to hear.
"S'too early...still two more hours..."
"I know," Chekov replies, yawning and leaning down to press a kiss to his boyfriend's temple. "I have my quarterly physical today, before alpha shift begins."
Sulu grunts, not moving a muscle. "Then go have it," he mutters. "And water the wildflower, while you're up."
"So pushy," Chekov replies, but he does as he's told, getting out of Sulu's bed and picking up the watering can near his plants. He looks at the detailed schedule Sulu's made, of what plants need watering on which days, and he tends to the wildflower as well as all the others that need a drink. He hazards a glance at Kirk's mug and notices a soil stain on the side of it. He decides to leave it there, humming as he heads to the bathroom for his sonic shower.
"Stop humming!" Sulu complains from the bed. Chekov raises his hands in apology.
"Sorry, sorry."
When he makes it to sickbay, McCoy isn't waiting in the examination area like he usually is. Chekov goes to the doctor's office to look for him, finding that he's not there, either. Suddenly, he hears heavy footfalls behind him and he turns to see McCoy making his way over, a bundle of PADDs tucked under one arm and a drink in his hand that smells unmistakably like strong, black coffee.
"Sorry I'm late, Ensign," he says, shifting his mug from one hand to the other so he can key in the code to the office door. It whooshes open and he goes inside, putting all the items in his arms down on his desk. "Got held up in Ji—ah, my quarters."
"I see, Doctor," Chekov replies, not missing a beat. "I was not waiting long."
"All right, good. Let me just get situated here, then," McCoy says, organizing everything he needs and picking up his coffee for a noisy slurp. When he puts the drink down, Chekov can see that the mug is the exact same shape and size as the ones he and Sulu received from Kirk, except the writing on this one is different, tailored for a new recipient: Bestest Doctor.
McCoy pauses in what he's doing when he sees Chekov staring at the mug. "Well, shit," he murmurs. "If everyone else got to have one, I wanted one, too. After all, I'm..." He trails off, frowning and gesturing brusquely with one hand. "I mean, it's only fair."
"I think so, too," Chekov says. He smiles widely and leaves it at that.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Chekov/Sulu, implied Kirk/McCoy
Notes: ~1,800 words of fluffy crack. For
starsandgraces, with whom I share many bizarre ST-related conversations, including the one that inspired this. ("I think he has a mug that says 'Bestest Pilot' on it. Jim made it." "Omg.")Summary: Chekov isn't jealous of Kirk's birthday gift to Sulu. No, not at all.
"Okay, this one's from me," Kirk says, thrusting his cube-shaped present toward Sulu without any regard for anyone else. The other birthday-gift givers look on with slight glowers at the way Kirk's forced his way to the start of the queue—Chekov especially. He wanted to be the first person to give Sulu a gift. But he lets it go when the pilot smiles broadly, already tearing at the paper to find out what's inside.
"Oh...wow. Jim, this is..." Sulu laughs and shakes his head fondly. Chekov cranes his head to see what the gift is and scrunches his nose when he sees it's an old-fashioned mug. Sulu holds it up for everyone to see and everyone laughs in gleeful surprise when they read the black writing on the white ceramic: Bestest Pilot.
"I know it's cheesy," Kirk says, shrugging and grinning. "I found it at a duty-free shop on some planet where they're still trying to figure out how to translate into Standard. But you really are the best pilot! The bestest, even!"
"You're gonna make me blush, Jim," Sulu says.
"Open mine next," Chekov blurts, shoving his own gift into Sulu's personal space. Kirk looks mildly put out when the spotlight is taken away. Beside him, McCoy stands with his arms folded across his chest, looking grumpier than usual, darting annoyed glances between Chekov, Sulu and the captain. Chekov doesn't care what the others think; if Kirk can be rude, so can he. And his gift is better than some silly mug made by an underdeveloped race that can't even speak proper Standard. "I looked all over for it."
Sulu opens the packaging with an indulgent smile and gasps when he finds the rare blossom of a Rhondeltan wildflower, a species of flora that Chekov knows he's never been able to find on his own. It took a lot of favor-granting and heavy-duty promises to people in the science department, but Chekov got one.
"Pavel, thank you so much! This is amazing," Sulu says with wonder. Chekov beams proudly even though he thinks he can feel the intensity of Kirk's glare behind him. Sulu, oblivious to it all, laughs and admires the plant. "Maybe I can grow this in the mug Jim gave me."
Chekov stiffens at that, curling his hands into fists at his sides. "Yes, maybe," he manages to say. "Excuse me, won't you? I have a...report to file."
He knows everyone's watching as he stomps out of the rec room and back to his quarters, but at the moment, he could care less.
*
It's a few days later when Kirk interrupts him and Sulu as they eat dinner in the mess hall. He looks like he's up to something, as he often does, and Chekov knows his captain well enough by now to recognize that's never a good thing.
"Hey, guys, sorry to barge in on your meal. But I wanted to give you something, Chekov."
"Give me something?" Chekov repeats, looking across the table at Sulu in confusion. His best friend just shrugs at him and shakes his head, obviously unaware of Kirk's plan, whatever it might be. Chekov purses his lips and tries to look curious. He is a bit curious, actually. "Okay, what is it?"
"Well," Kirk begins, taking a seat beside Chekov without asking and forcing him to scoot over to make room. "I got the feeling at Sulu's birthday party that you were a little jealous over my gift."
"I—I was not jealous," Chekov replies, perhaps a bit too harshly. He doesn't want to let on that Kirk is right—that he was deeply jealous of the fact that Sulu clearly liked Kirk's gift better than that damned flower it took him months to obtain.
Kirk just shakes his head and pats Chekov's shoulder in a way that could be inferred as condescending, though he knows Kirk doesn't mean it that way. "Hey, it's okay. I actually felt kind of bad when I thought about it. I don't want the rest of you guys to think I'm playing favorites or anything. So, here."
He places a box before Chekov that's unwrapped, but the same size as the box he gave to Sulu the other day. Chekov picks it up and glances at Sulu again, who's smiling a little as he chews his food, his brow lifted with interest and mild amusement. He feels the box's heavy weight and suddenly finds himself smiling as well. Kirk has got it all wrong with the jealousy thing, but it's rather nice that he saw fit to give Chekov a mug, too—that he does value him enough to give him a token of appreciation as well. He feels a jolt of excitement as he opens the box and when he pulls out the mug, he pauses upon reading its message, the big smile on his face settling into a thin, straight line.
"Bestest Nawigator," he reads flatly, not bothering to temper his accent. "Navigator" is spelled on the mug with a W, exactly the way Chekov always pronounces it. Kirk breaks into a peal of high-pitched laughter beside him, patting his back and motioning to the mug so Sulu can see.
"Isn't it great? I got the idea the other night and I ran right to the replicator to program it. Oh, man. I knew you'd get a kick out of it, Chekov. Enjoy it, okay?"
Kirk leaves right away and Sulu only manages to pretend he's not laughing for a few seconds, before he snorts and nearly chokes on his pasta. Chekov makes an irritated sound and puts the mug down as Sulu's shoulders begin to shake with laughter.
"You know, it is kind of cu—"
"Shut up, Hikaru."
Sulu clears his throat and nods, continuing to eat. Then he only giggles two more times, after which Chekov promises to kick him if there's a third.
*
The next night, Chekov drops by Sulu's quarters to fetch him for dinner. When Sulu grants him entrance, he walks in to find him watering the Rhondeltan wildflower, which, as promised, now resides in the Bestest Pilot mug. Chekov sighs in frustration and goes to sit on the edge of Sulu's bed, propping his chin in his palm.
"I see you were not kidding about using the mug," he says, a little crossly. Sulu turns and gives him a strange look.
"What's with you and this mug? It's like you hate it or something. Or you hate Kirk; I'm not really sure."
"It's a fine mug," Chekov huffs. He shrugs up at his best friend. "I know you love it."
"Well, I mean, it's sweet. And it was nice of Kirk to think of me. It's not like it's the best gift I've ever gotten, though."
"No?" Chekov answers, lifting his head.
"Nah." Sulu waves his hand, sitting down beside Chekov and rubbing his back lightly. "I don't think anything can ever beat that wildflower, Pavel. I mean, I've been trying to get a hold of one of those for years and it's totally impossible, they're so rare. I can't even imagine the kind of strings you pulled to get it for me. It's really just the most thoughtful present ever."
"Well," Chekov says, suddenly smiling shyly. "It was not that much trouble, really."
"Ah, don't be modest; it doesn't look good on you. I know you owe someone in the biology lab your firstborn, so really..." Sulu shrugs one shoulder and hesitates before leaning in and giving Chekov the gentlest of pecks on the cheek—so soft that Chekov almost wonders if he's imagined it. Sulu ducks his head and gives his shoulder a squeeze, nodding. "Thanks."
"Welcome," Chekov replies quietly. He lets a few seconds tick by before he gets up the courage to lean close to his best friend again, and to aim for his lips instead of his cheek. A little thrill goes through him when he meets his target and the reception on Sulu's end is more than welcoming.
*
The alarm goes off earlier than usual and Sulu makes an annoyed noise in his sleep, turning away from both Chekov and the alarm. He pulls his pillow over his head and grouses to himself, just loud enough for Chekov to hear.
"S'too early...still two more hours..."
"I know," Chekov replies, yawning and leaning down to press a kiss to his boyfriend's temple. "I have my quarterly physical today, before alpha shift begins."
Sulu grunts, not moving a muscle. "Then go have it," he mutters. "And water the wildflower, while you're up."
"So pushy," Chekov replies, but he does as he's told, getting out of Sulu's bed and picking up the watering can near his plants. He looks at the detailed schedule Sulu's made, of what plants need watering on which days, and he tends to the wildflower as well as all the others that need a drink. He hazards a glance at Kirk's mug and notices a soil stain on the side of it. He decides to leave it there, humming as he heads to the bathroom for his sonic shower.
"Stop humming!" Sulu complains from the bed. Chekov raises his hands in apology.
"Sorry, sorry."
When he makes it to sickbay, McCoy isn't waiting in the examination area like he usually is. Chekov goes to the doctor's office to look for him, finding that he's not there, either. Suddenly, he hears heavy footfalls behind him and he turns to see McCoy making his way over, a bundle of PADDs tucked under one arm and a drink in his hand that smells unmistakably like strong, black coffee.
"Sorry I'm late, Ensign," he says, shifting his mug from one hand to the other so he can key in the code to the office door. It whooshes open and he goes inside, putting all the items in his arms down on his desk. "Got held up in Ji—ah, my quarters."
"I see, Doctor," Chekov replies, not missing a beat. "I was not waiting long."
"All right, good. Let me just get situated here, then," McCoy says, organizing everything he needs and picking up his coffee for a noisy slurp. When he puts the drink down, Chekov can see that the mug is the exact same shape and size as the ones he and Sulu received from Kirk, except the writing on this one is different, tailored for a new recipient: Bestest Doctor.
McCoy pauses in what he's doing when he sees Chekov staring at the mug. "Well, shit," he murmurs. "If everyone else got to have one, I wanted one, too. After all, I'm..." He trails off, frowning and gesturing brusquely with one hand. "I mean, it's only fair."
"I think so, too," Chekov says. He smiles widely and leaves it at that.