FIC: Gifts of Childhood
Title: Gifts of Childhood (of the series, What We Remember Forever)
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Rating: G
Characters: Kirk (de-aged), Spock, Chekov
Word count: 2557
Summary: Jim spends the afternoon with Chekov. Inevitable cuteness ensues.
Warnings: Fluff. Also, Chekov. Brace yourselves.
Notes: It's about damn time I posted another one of these. :P
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“It’s not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.” -Mother Teresa (1910 - 1997)
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Four days was apparently all it took for the crew to become completely used to the presence of a child on the bridge. As sweetly charming as the kid had grown to be, Jim was still rather quiet and was often quite content to linger around and watch the officers while they worked. As a result of this the bridge crew found that, particularly on their busier shifts, they could each afford to keep busy at their stations without feeling the need to constantly look over their shoulders to keep tabs on Jim; chances were that the boy would be hovering near any particular crewmember at any given time, who would, in turn, keep an eye on Jim as he kept an eye on them.
The “particular crewmember” of the day happened to be Spock, Chekov noticed, not that that was anything new. He smiled to himself, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Jim hovering near the science station, now-and-then reaching up to grasp loosely at Spock’s pant leg as if to grab his attention. It was one of those significantly busy shifts that day, and the acting captain appeared to be doing a fine job of keeping Jim busy while maintaining progress on his work. At least to Chekov it did.
The Russian turned back to his station, monitoring the Enterprise’s latest instructed course. While it certainly wasn't the hardest work to be done, it was tedious and definitely time-consuming. After a moment he stood up and crossed over to the scanner near the science station with the intention of double-checking a minor radiation cloud near the ship’s presented path. Instead, Chekov found his attention drawn to an unexpected conversation.
“Be still, little one, I must work.”
At the resulting soft whine of protest, Chekov stopped himself from turning fully to see what the quiet commotion was, instead tilting his head just enough to watch discreetly from the corner of his vision.
“Jim, I cannot play with you now. I need to perform my duties here.” In response the child whined again, burying his face in the material covering Spock’s leg. The half-Vulcan spoke again, his voice was low and obviously only meant for the toddler currently attached to him. “Would you like Doctor McCoy to come and take you to eat lunch?” Jim didn’t respond, and Spock seemed to sigh quietly. “I am unable to entertain you at this time. If you cannot find a way to occupy yourself presently, then Doctor McCoy may have to come and retrieve you." He paused before threading two fingers through the boy’s hair. “…I am sorry, Jim.”
Chekov bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like the sight of Jim being so sad, nor of Spock’s subtle sorrow at having to deny him. He knew it probably wasn’t any of his business, but the ensign couldn’t help but feel like he had to do something, especially considering he was most likely the only person on the bridge who could see just what was happening.
Making his decision, Chekov stepped away from the scanner and closer to the two at the science station.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said quietly, so not to attract any other attention. Spock looked up and straightened, but his hand didn’t leave Jim’s hair.
“Ensign?”
Chekov swallowed lightly. “Sir, if I may,” he started, only a little nervous now that he had Spock’s attention, “I vould not be adwerse to looking after ze Keptin.”
Spock stared at Chekov a moment longer, as if giving the navigator a silent once-over, before leaning down to address Jim.
“Jim, would you like to play with Ensign Chekov?” he asked gently. “I believe he would like to spend time with you.” Still clinging to Spock’s pant leg, Jim turned to look up at Chekov. Although it was clear he would rather remain with Spock, the toddler seemed to brighten with recognition at the sight of the navigator.
Chekov smiled. “Please, Jim? Ve can haff lots of fun, yes?” He held out his hand in invitation, and with only a small amount of hesitation and reluctance Jim reached out and took it. Spock silently shined in approval, carefully disentangling his fingers from Jim’s hair.
“Goodbye, Jim,” he whispered. “I will see you in due time after Alpha shift.” The child visibly brightened at the assurance. As Jim turned his attention back to Chekov, so did Spock.
“As you leave, inform Lieutenant Uhura to notify your replacement,” Spock said evenly, shifting back into his regular commanding persona.
“Aye, sir.”
By the time they were in the turbolift, Chekov realized he didn’t quite know where he was taking Jim. He had really offered to watch the child on a whim, after all, but he supposed he could figure out something. While he didn’t have any brothers or sisters of his own, Chekov was the youngest of a rather large group of cousins, so he knew a small thing or two about babysitting (or rather, being babysat). He’d think of something soon…
With a mental slap to himself Chekov suddenly remembered Spock’s earlier words regarding McCoy taking Jim to eat lunch. Of course! Jim was probably getting hungry by now. Shaking his head lightly, the navigator pressed the button for the appropriate deck and the lift began to move.
There was a tug on his hand and Chekov looked down. Jim stared up at him, regarding him shyly before lifting both his arms up to the navigator.
“Up?”
Chekov smiled outright and bent down to pick the child up. He lifted Jim high above his head, earning a soft gasp of surprise, before bringing him down and balancing him on his hip. Jim ducked his head and giggled into Chekov’s shoulder.
The remainder of the lift ride and the walk to the mess consisted mainly of Jim playing with Chekov’s hair, pulling back and releasing the collection of curls and laughing as they bounced back to their original positions. When he reached an empty table, Chekov set Jim down in one of the nearby chairs and knelt down in front of him.
“Vhat vould you like to eat, Yasha?” he asked kindly.
“Um…” the boy mumbled, looking down at his hands in thought. “Peanut butter and jelly?”
Chekov grinned and ruffled Jim’s hair. “A wery good choice. You stay here, yes? I vill be right back.” He left the table and went over to the nearest replicator, turning his head and smiling at the sight of other crewmembers passing and greeting Jim as he waited. Chekov programmed in Jim’s request along with a spontaneous order for apple slices, plus a small bowl of borsch for himself. He returned promptly, setting the tray of food down on the table.
“Here you are, Yasha,” he said, setting the plate of apple slices and Jim’s sandwich in front of the boy. As he sat down Chekov realized that Jim barely reached the top of the table in the chair he was sitting in. Without much thought he reached over and picked the boy up, setting him down in his lap.
“Prijatnogo appetita,” Chekov said happily, moving Jim’s plate in front of him and handing the boy the first cut of his sandwich before digging into his borsch.
The rest of the meal went by rather quietly, Jim enjoying his sandwich and Chekov eating his borsch, both sharing the apple slices. As Chekov was finishing, a thought struck him. He waited until Jim was done before lifting him off his lap and temporarily into the chair. Jim looked rather surprised at the sudden move and grabbed for Chekov’s sleeve as he stood.
“Don’t vorry, I'm not going far,” the teen assured. “I’m getting something for you.” He tapped the toddler on the nose, earning a short laugh, then made his way to the replicator again. Doctor McCoy would probably kill him for this, being the health nut he was when it came to Jim. Chekov picked up his order, as well as a small fork, and went back to Jim. Setting the plate on the table, the navigator picked Jim up and placed him back on his lap.
“Cake!” the child exclaimed when he recognized the treat.
Chekov smiled. “All for you, Yasha. Eat up!” He handed Jim the fork; it was only a little slice, and Chekov didn’t think a small treat would do any harm. Jim took the fork and held it with relative ease, only slightly clumsy as he picked off a piece of the cake and brought it to his mouth. His enjoyment of the taste was obvious.
“I vill tell you a secret,” Chekov found himself whispering as Jim took another bite. “Not many people know zis, but chocolate cake vas actually inwented in Russia. Many disagree, but do not let anybody tell you othervise, yes?”
Jim nodded. “What’s Russia?”
“It is my country - vhere I am from. It is wery, wery big; ze best in ze vorld!” At Jim’s laughter, Chekov smiled wider. “I do talk funny, huh?”
Jim seemed to sober, looking confused. “Nuh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “I understand you.”
Chekov’s smile softened as Jim turned to pick off another piece of the cake slice. Even as a child, Jim’s sense of fairness shined through. The Russian pet the child’s hair lightly just as Jim turned in his lap and held the forkful of cake up to him. Chekov raised an eyebrow, unsure of what Jim was doing until the child raised the fork again, higher this time so it was near Chekov’s mouth. Biting back another smile, Chekov leaned forward and took the cake into his mouth. Jim’s face lit up and he turned back to scoop up more cake, which he ate himself. His next forkful was lifted back up to Chekov, and the cycle continued - Jim ate a piece, then Chekov got one, then Jim again until the entire slice was gone.
Chekov picked Jim up off his lap for the final time, intent on putting their dishes away into the proper receptacle. Jim followed him, carrying the cake plate. While they had been having their dessert, Chekov had thought of something else to do.
He reached down to take Jim’s hand. “Come, Yasha, I haff a surprise for you.”
As they left the mess and started toward the turbolift, Jim turned to look up at him. “Mister Chekov? What’s ‘Yasha’ mean?”
“Vell… it’s you,” Chekov started to explain, stopping in the hallway to crouch down in front of Jim. “It’s a wersion of your name, like a nickname, yes? Your name is James, but your friends call you Jim. My name is Pavel, but my family and close friends calls me Pasha. Do you understand?” He waited until Jim nodded before he continued. “In Russia, your name vould be Yakov; your loved ones vould call you Yasha.” Chekov watched as Jim absorbed the information, looking thoughtful.
“Does that mean… I can call you Pasha?” Jim suddenly asked, looking both shy and hopeful.
Chekov laughed and leaned into kiss Jim’s forehead. “Only if I may still call you Yasha.” He was promptly hugged around the neck. The teen wrapped his arms around the toddler and picked him up, walking the rest of the way to the turbolift. He let Jim push the buttons and soon they were on their way to Deck 6 and Chekov’s quarters. When they reached the deck Chekov set Jim down and they had a quick race to see who could get to the door first.
“Close your eyes,” Chekov gently instructed once they were inside. “I haff something for you.” Jim covered his eyes with his hands and Chekov went to his set of drawers. He opened the bottom one and started to fish around the back of it. Even though he shared quarters with Sulu, he had never disclosed this particular secret of his before. It wasn’t that he thought he’d get made fun of, it was just… actually, yes, he thought he might be teased a little. But it was also more of a personal matter he kept it hidden.
After a minute of searching, Chekov finally found what he was looking for underneath all of his clothing. He pulled it out and held it out in front of him, admiring it for a second before he turned and knelt in front of Jim.
“Open your eyes, Yasha,” the teen prompted, holding the object up so Jim could clearly see it. Jim pulled his hands away from his eyes and gasped.
“A bunny!” the boy exclaimed excitedly. The stuffed rabbit was a faded white, obviously worn and loved but still relatively fluffy. The large, floppy ears fell and settled over the sides of a light pink ribbon around the rabbit’s neck. “What’s her name?”
Chekov smiled, not surprised that Jim was able to ascertain that the rabbit was a girl. “I call her Katja. She vas my friend vhen I vas a boy.” He watched as Jim came forward and pet the rabbit’s head before gently taking it from Chekov as the teen pushed it towards him. “Vhat about yours?”
Jim blinked in confusion. Chekov elaborated: “Vhat is yours called? Your animal?”
The boy looked down in apparent thought before somewhat excitedly responding, “Sammy has a kitty! His name is Patch.”
Chekov slowly frowned, taking in the new information. Was Jim saying that he didn’t have a stuffed animal of his own? Chekov had to search his brain a bit before he remembered that Jim had an older brother named Sam, whose own stuffed animal Jim could apparently recall clearly. He wasn’t sure exactly what to make of it.
At Chekov’s expression, Jim seemed to hunch in on himself a little. “Sammy shares,” he said, as if to make his previous statement more acceptable.
“Zhat is good,” Chekov quickly responded, wanting to get rid of the current mood that had begun to settle over them. “Is Patch a nice kitty?”
“Uh-huh,” Jim replied, nodding. “Patch and Katja would be friends.”
“I’m sure zhey vould.” Chekov reached out to grab Katja’s sides, making her dance in Jim’s arms. “Katja vould like to be your friend, too. See?” Jim giggled as “Katja” hopped in front of him and hugged her tightly, cooing and burying his face in her soft fur. After cuddling her for a bit, Jim moved to hand Katja back. Chekov shook his head and gently pushed her back to Jim.
“Keep her, Yasha,” he said kindly. “She is your friend now, yes?”
Jim’s eyes absolutely lit up and he ran forward to tackle the Russian in a hug. Chekov laughed, wrapping the toddler up in his arms and holding him close as he was barraged with a stream of “thanks-yous.”
For most of the afternoon the two played in Chekov’s quarters, mostly with Katja. Eventually they both tired, and the end of their playtime - and later on, Sulu and McCoy - saw Chekov and Jim curled up together like puppies on the ensign’s bed, Katja cuddled in between them, sleeping as soundly as newborn infants.
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Rating: G
Characters: Kirk (de-aged), Spock, Chekov
Word count: 2557
Summary: Jim spends the afternoon with Chekov. Inevitable cuteness ensues.
Warnings: Fluff. Also, Chekov. Brace yourselves.
Notes: It's about damn time I posted another one of these. :P
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“It’s not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.” -Mother Teresa (1910 - 1997)
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Four days was apparently all it took for the crew to become completely used to the presence of a child on the bridge. As sweetly charming as the kid had grown to be, Jim was still rather quiet and was often quite content to linger around and watch the officers while they worked. As a result of this the bridge crew found that, particularly on their busier shifts, they could each afford to keep busy at their stations without feeling the need to constantly look over their shoulders to keep tabs on Jim; chances were that the boy would be hovering near any particular crewmember at any given time, who would, in turn, keep an eye on Jim as he kept an eye on them.
The “particular crewmember” of the day happened to be Spock, Chekov noticed, not that that was anything new. He smiled to himself, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Jim hovering near the science station, now-and-then reaching up to grasp loosely at Spock’s pant leg as if to grab his attention. It was one of those significantly busy shifts that day, and the acting captain appeared to be doing a fine job of keeping Jim busy while maintaining progress on his work. At least to Chekov it did.
The Russian turned back to his station, monitoring the Enterprise’s latest instructed course. While it certainly wasn't the hardest work to be done, it was tedious and definitely time-consuming. After a moment he stood up and crossed over to the scanner near the science station with the intention of double-checking a minor radiation cloud near the ship’s presented path. Instead, Chekov found his attention drawn to an unexpected conversation.
“Be still, little one, I must work.”
At the resulting soft whine of protest, Chekov stopped himself from turning fully to see what the quiet commotion was, instead tilting his head just enough to watch discreetly from the corner of his vision.
“Jim, I cannot play with you now. I need to perform my duties here.” In response the child whined again, burying his face in the material covering Spock’s leg. The half-Vulcan spoke again, his voice was low and obviously only meant for the toddler currently attached to him. “Would you like Doctor McCoy to come and take you to eat lunch?” Jim didn’t respond, and Spock seemed to sigh quietly. “I am unable to entertain you at this time. If you cannot find a way to occupy yourself presently, then Doctor McCoy may have to come and retrieve you." He paused before threading two fingers through the boy’s hair. “…I am sorry, Jim.”
Chekov bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like the sight of Jim being so sad, nor of Spock’s subtle sorrow at having to deny him. He knew it probably wasn’t any of his business, but the ensign couldn’t help but feel like he had to do something, especially considering he was most likely the only person on the bridge who could see just what was happening.
Making his decision, Chekov stepped away from the scanner and closer to the two at the science station.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said quietly, so not to attract any other attention. Spock looked up and straightened, but his hand didn’t leave Jim’s hair.
“Ensign?”
Chekov swallowed lightly. “Sir, if I may,” he started, only a little nervous now that he had Spock’s attention, “I vould not be adwerse to looking after ze Keptin.”
Spock stared at Chekov a moment longer, as if giving the navigator a silent once-over, before leaning down to address Jim.
“Jim, would you like to play with Ensign Chekov?” he asked gently. “I believe he would like to spend time with you.” Still clinging to Spock’s pant leg, Jim turned to look up at Chekov. Although it was clear he would rather remain with Spock, the toddler seemed to brighten with recognition at the sight of the navigator.
Chekov smiled. “Please, Jim? Ve can haff lots of fun, yes?” He held out his hand in invitation, and with only a small amount of hesitation and reluctance Jim reached out and took it. Spock silently shined in approval, carefully disentangling his fingers from Jim’s hair.
“Goodbye, Jim,” he whispered. “I will see you in due time after Alpha shift.” The child visibly brightened at the assurance. As Jim turned his attention back to Chekov, so did Spock.
“As you leave, inform Lieutenant Uhura to notify your replacement,” Spock said evenly, shifting back into his regular commanding persona.
“Aye, sir.”
By the time they were in the turbolift, Chekov realized he didn’t quite know where he was taking Jim. He had really offered to watch the child on a whim, after all, but he supposed he could figure out something. While he didn’t have any brothers or sisters of his own, Chekov was the youngest of a rather large group of cousins, so he knew a small thing or two about babysitting (or rather, being babysat). He’d think of something soon…
With a mental slap to himself Chekov suddenly remembered Spock’s earlier words regarding McCoy taking Jim to eat lunch. Of course! Jim was probably getting hungry by now. Shaking his head lightly, the navigator pressed the button for the appropriate deck and the lift began to move.
There was a tug on his hand and Chekov looked down. Jim stared up at him, regarding him shyly before lifting both his arms up to the navigator.
“Up?”
Chekov smiled outright and bent down to pick the child up. He lifted Jim high above his head, earning a soft gasp of surprise, before bringing him down and balancing him on his hip. Jim ducked his head and giggled into Chekov’s shoulder.
The remainder of the lift ride and the walk to the mess consisted mainly of Jim playing with Chekov’s hair, pulling back and releasing the collection of curls and laughing as they bounced back to their original positions. When he reached an empty table, Chekov set Jim down in one of the nearby chairs and knelt down in front of him.
“Vhat vould you like to eat, Yasha?” he asked kindly.
“Um…” the boy mumbled, looking down at his hands in thought. “Peanut butter and jelly?”
Chekov grinned and ruffled Jim’s hair. “A wery good choice. You stay here, yes? I vill be right back.” He left the table and went over to the nearest replicator, turning his head and smiling at the sight of other crewmembers passing and greeting Jim as he waited. Chekov programmed in Jim’s request along with a spontaneous order for apple slices, plus a small bowl of borsch for himself. He returned promptly, setting the tray of food down on the table.
“Here you are, Yasha,” he said, setting the plate of apple slices and Jim’s sandwich in front of the boy. As he sat down Chekov realized that Jim barely reached the top of the table in the chair he was sitting in. Without much thought he reached over and picked the boy up, setting him down in his lap.
“Prijatnogo appetita,” Chekov said happily, moving Jim’s plate in front of him and handing the boy the first cut of his sandwich before digging into his borsch.
The rest of the meal went by rather quietly, Jim enjoying his sandwich and Chekov eating his borsch, both sharing the apple slices. As Chekov was finishing, a thought struck him. He waited until Jim was done before lifting him off his lap and temporarily into the chair. Jim looked rather surprised at the sudden move and grabbed for Chekov’s sleeve as he stood.
“Don’t vorry, I'm not going far,” the teen assured. “I’m getting something for you.” He tapped the toddler on the nose, earning a short laugh, then made his way to the replicator again. Doctor McCoy would probably kill him for this, being the health nut he was when it came to Jim. Chekov picked up his order, as well as a small fork, and went back to Jim. Setting the plate on the table, the navigator picked Jim up and placed him back on his lap.
“Cake!” the child exclaimed when he recognized the treat.
Chekov smiled. “All for you, Yasha. Eat up!” He handed Jim the fork; it was only a little slice, and Chekov didn’t think a small treat would do any harm. Jim took the fork and held it with relative ease, only slightly clumsy as he picked off a piece of the cake and brought it to his mouth. His enjoyment of the taste was obvious.
“I vill tell you a secret,” Chekov found himself whispering as Jim took another bite. “Not many people know zis, but chocolate cake vas actually inwented in Russia. Many disagree, but do not let anybody tell you othervise, yes?”
Jim nodded. “What’s Russia?”
“It is my country - vhere I am from. It is wery, wery big; ze best in ze vorld!” At Jim’s laughter, Chekov smiled wider. “I do talk funny, huh?”
Jim seemed to sober, looking confused. “Nuh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “I understand you.”
Chekov’s smile softened as Jim turned to pick off another piece of the cake slice. Even as a child, Jim’s sense of fairness shined through. The Russian pet the child’s hair lightly just as Jim turned in his lap and held the forkful of cake up to him. Chekov raised an eyebrow, unsure of what Jim was doing until the child raised the fork again, higher this time so it was near Chekov’s mouth. Biting back another smile, Chekov leaned forward and took the cake into his mouth. Jim’s face lit up and he turned back to scoop up more cake, which he ate himself. His next forkful was lifted back up to Chekov, and the cycle continued - Jim ate a piece, then Chekov got one, then Jim again until the entire slice was gone.
Chekov picked Jim up off his lap for the final time, intent on putting their dishes away into the proper receptacle. Jim followed him, carrying the cake plate. While they had been having their dessert, Chekov had thought of something else to do.
He reached down to take Jim’s hand. “Come, Yasha, I haff a surprise for you.”
As they left the mess and started toward the turbolift, Jim turned to look up at him. “Mister Chekov? What’s ‘Yasha’ mean?”
“Vell… it’s you,” Chekov started to explain, stopping in the hallway to crouch down in front of Jim. “It’s a wersion of your name, like a nickname, yes? Your name is James, but your friends call you Jim. My name is Pavel, but my family and close friends calls me Pasha. Do you understand?” He waited until Jim nodded before he continued. “In Russia, your name vould be Yakov; your loved ones vould call you Yasha.” Chekov watched as Jim absorbed the information, looking thoughtful.
“Does that mean… I can call you Pasha?” Jim suddenly asked, looking both shy and hopeful.
Chekov laughed and leaned into kiss Jim’s forehead. “Only if I may still call you Yasha.” He was promptly hugged around the neck. The teen wrapped his arms around the toddler and picked him up, walking the rest of the way to the turbolift. He let Jim push the buttons and soon they were on their way to Deck 6 and Chekov’s quarters. When they reached the deck Chekov set Jim down and they had a quick race to see who could get to the door first.
“Close your eyes,” Chekov gently instructed once they were inside. “I haff something for you.” Jim covered his eyes with his hands and Chekov went to his set of drawers. He opened the bottom one and started to fish around the back of it. Even though he shared quarters with Sulu, he had never disclosed this particular secret of his before. It wasn’t that he thought he’d get made fun of, it was just… actually, yes, he thought he might be teased a little. But it was also more of a personal matter he kept it hidden.
After a minute of searching, Chekov finally found what he was looking for underneath all of his clothing. He pulled it out and held it out in front of him, admiring it for a second before he turned and knelt in front of Jim.
“Open your eyes, Yasha,” the teen prompted, holding the object up so Jim could clearly see it. Jim pulled his hands away from his eyes and gasped.
“A bunny!” the boy exclaimed excitedly. The stuffed rabbit was a faded white, obviously worn and loved but still relatively fluffy. The large, floppy ears fell and settled over the sides of a light pink ribbon around the rabbit’s neck. “What’s her name?”
Chekov smiled, not surprised that Jim was able to ascertain that the rabbit was a girl. “I call her Katja. She vas my friend vhen I vas a boy.” He watched as Jim came forward and pet the rabbit’s head before gently taking it from Chekov as the teen pushed it towards him. “Vhat about yours?”
Jim blinked in confusion. Chekov elaborated: “Vhat is yours called? Your animal?”
The boy looked down in apparent thought before somewhat excitedly responding, “Sammy has a kitty! His name is Patch.”
Chekov slowly frowned, taking in the new information. Was Jim saying that he didn’t have a stuffed animal of his own? Chekov had to search his brain a bit before he remembered that Jim had an older brother named Sam, whose own stuffed animal Jim could apparently recall clearly. He wasn’t sure exactly what to make of it.
At Chekov’s expression, Jim seemed to hunch in on himself a little. “Sammy shares,” he said, as if to make his previous statement more acceptable.
“Zhat is good,” Chekov quickly responded, wanting to get rid of the current mood that had begun to settle over them. “Is Patch a nice kitty?”
“Uh-huh,” Jim replied, nodding. “Patch and Katja would be friends.”
“I’m sure zhey vould.” Chekov reached out to grab Katja’s sides, making her dance in Jim’s arms. “Katja vould like to be your friend, too. See?” Jim giggled as “Katja” hopped in front of him and hugged her tightly, cooing and burying his face in her soft fur. After cuddling her for a bit, Jim moved to hand Katja back. Chekov shook his head and gently pushed her back to Jim.
“Keep her, Yasha,” he said kindly. “She is your friend now, yes?”
Jim’s eyes absolutely lit up and he ran forward to tackle the Russian in a hug. Chekov laughed, wrapping the toddler up in his arms and holding him close as he was barraged with a stream of “thanks-yous.”
For most of the afternoon the two played in Chekov’s quarters, mostly with Katja. Eventually they both tired, and the end of their playtime - and later on, Sulu and McCoy - saw Chekov and Jim curled up together like puppies on the ensign’s bed, Katja cuddled in between them, sleeping as soundly as newborn infants.