(Untitled)

[polarisbound]

Characters: Montgomery Scott, Pavel Chekov
When: Friday, December 4; about 9:45 pm
Where: Pavel's house
Rating: PG-13
Description: Pavel comes home from the dance to find chaos at his house.

Comments

[transwarp_beam]

Oh, thank Christ. "Pavel!" Scotty yelled. His pulse was still fluttering frantically in the hollow of his throat; the sick, hot feeling of panic easing slightly at the sight of his friend alive and well. His lip was split and bleeding from a run-in with another group of angry townspeople who'd been rather more fervent in their belief that he was either with them or against them. Not that the delay had mattered; he'd been too late anyway.

"Fuck, thank god you're alright," he breathed; "Come on. Your dad's inside."

[polarisbound]

Pavel jerked when he heard Scotty call for him and breathed a sigh of relief, jogging toward him, trying to catch his breath. "Scotty--you--Papa--what are you doing here? What happened? Is he all right?" The questions burst out, even as Pavel strode toward the house impatiently, meeting his father in the entrance hall and hugging him tightly, exchanging words in rapid-fire Russian before turning around to Scotty.

"Come in--again."

[transwarp_beam]

"Ran into the mob in town," Scotty said; clearly agitated, practically vibrating with nervous energy. "Tried t'get here t'warn you, but it was already too late." He rubbed a hand across his spilt lip and absently wiped the blood off on his jeans. "Fuck, it's good t'see you safe."

[polarisbound]

He groaned, shaking a little, trying to listen to Scotty through his father's jabbering Russian and the heavy pats on his back. "Da, da, Papa." He sighed, pulling off his jacket and throwing it over the back of a chair. "I'm sorry, I..." He kicked a shard of glass from the front window and shook his head.

"I guess we should have seen this company. First with Papa and I and then..." he stopped short and shot Scotty a warning look, asking him not to say anything about the other reason they'd come to his house, even though his father was muttering something about it, homosexuals and the insanity of the people attacking their house.

[transwarp_beam]

Scotty raised his hands in a clear gesture of 'don't look at me, I wasn't going to say anything'; the parts of the conversation in Russian were, obviously, flying right over his head. He stared at the broken window and shook his head in disbelief. "It was supposed t'be better here," he muttered, half to himself. He knew Pavel would understand what he meant, though. They had both grown up in Europe during the war. Things were supposed to be different here - they weren't supposed to have to fear for their safety any more.

[polarisbound]

Pavel lowered his eyes and nodded, murmuring something to his father in broken Russian, sending him back into the kitchen and sighing when he heard the tell-tale sound of his father pulling down a bottle of vodka and the tinkle of glass that wasn't falling from the shattered window.

"Da," he agreed, his voice thick with an accent he rarely heard himself use--not since he first moved here and tried to suppress it the best he could. "At least the power is still on."

[transwarp_beam]

"Aye, an' nothin's explodin'," Scotty said wryly. "...yet," he added after a moment's thought. It was bizarre to think that barely an hour ago he'd been sitting in the library, studying; here and now, sitting in a trashed house with blood drying on his chin and what he sincerely hoped weren't cracked ribs, it seemed a million miles away.

[polarisbound]

He turned around from the window and looked at Scotty, a little dazed from just staring at the window. "Can I get you something? A towel? I think we have a medical kit." His father had insisted they have everything as soon as they could. "I'm so sorry, Scotty."

[transwarp_beam]

"Nah, I'm fine," Scotty said, shaking his head. He touched his lip cautiously - it still stung like hell, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. His ribs could probably use some attention...that was a little beyond home first aid though.

He blinked at Pavel, mystified. "What're you apologisin' for?"

[polarisbound]

"You came here--worrying about me." He gestured limply to his lip and frowned tighter. "You didn't have to get involved, and I'm glad you did--I'm glad you were here for Papa, but you... shouldn't have to."

[transwarp_beam]

"Didn't have to," he said firmly, "Came here 'cause I wanted to. Got involved 'cause I couldn't'a lived wi' myself if I'd just stood by an' watched it happen."

[polarisbound]

Pavel smiled at him wearily and shook his head, stepping back and wincing as he crunched another bit of broken glass. "I guess I need to start cleaning up soon."

[transwarp_beam]

"I can stick around for a bit, give you a hand," Scotty offered. Truth be told, he didn't particularly want to leave - though intellectually he knew that one person wasn't going to make a difference if the mob came back for seconds, it still wouldn't feel right to just go.

[polarisbound]

He rubbed his face and gestured to the window. "Should probably cover it over and clean up. I cannot think of anyone who will fix it, unless we call from the next town..."

Pavel went to the hall closet, pulling out a broom and pan, sweeping slowly to get the glass off the floors.

[transwarp_beam]

Scotty raised an eyebrow. "Aye, s'a shame you don't know anyone who knows their way around a toolkit an' has access to the kinda materials you'd need," he said with a touch of pointed sarcasm.

[polarisbound]

Pavel looked a little surprised at first, then laughed shakily, then harder, in something like hysterical relief. "Right. Do you think you can get a sheet of glass that will fit in the window?"