ST XI kink meme fill, Sulu/Chekov
Title: Fill for "Chekov/Sulu, protective kink"
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
Summary: Fill for the following kink meme prompt: "Sulu is badly hurt/almost killed. Chekov goes full on fucking berserk on the person responsible. Bonus if the rest of the crew is suddenly a LOT more careful around Chekov afterwards and Sulu can't figure out why."
Note: This was filled a long time ago on the kink meme and I'm reposting it in my journal mainly for archive purposes. So, apologies if you've already read this.
The last time Hikaru Sulu had so many people staring at him, it was after the Narada incident.
That was more than a year ago. But Sulu still remembers the curious looks drifting toward him in the mess hall, the widening eyes when he introduced himself, the whispered questions in the turbolift. Sulu had been damned uncomfortable with it, given that his entire presence on the Narada mission was a fluke in the first place, not to mention he still found it grimly hilarious that anyone might characterize his terrified flailing on Nero's drill as “heroic.” He had been greatly relieved when the attention died down, the stares faded away, and most people simply forgot about it.
Now, ever since the mission to Khas'us IV, crewmembers have started staring again. This time, Sulu isn't uncomfortable. He's completely confused.
After all, Khas'us IV had been his worst failure since Vulcan, thanks to an ambush by an anti-Federation militia.
He and Captain Kirk had been fighting off their attackers, when something - some scalding explosion of blood and chemicals - had roared into Sulu's back, flattening him against the rocky ground so hard he could hear the precise moment his skull cracked. Through dizzying pain Sulu could barely see, could barely think, could barely recognize the sound of his own voice screaming and screaming as the fire and acid seared straight down to his bones.
Dimly, he had registered the presence of a Khas'ian fighter towering over him, raising a gnarled scythe-like weapon to strike. By some miraculous burst of adrenaline, Sulu had wormed away in time to prevent the weapon striking his burned back. It punctured his leg instead, ripping through bone and muscle and skin, splitting his thigh open from hip to knee like a sausage. Barely hanging on to consciousness, Sulu had cast his eyes upward to see the scythe raised again for the killing blow. He had blacked out before it could land.
The next thing Sulu remembered was struggling awake in sickbay.
A dull ache had weighed down his limbs; drugs did the same to his mind. But he'd felt a clenching grip on his left hand, heard a familiar accented voice urged him toward consciousness. Sulu had finally dragged open his eyes to find Chekov hunched at his bedside. Pavel's eyes were bloodshot, his disheveled curls spiralling out in all directions, and his face heavier than any nineteen-year-old face had a right to be.
"Pavel, it's okay, relax," Sulu had tried to reassure him, but the words came out a slurred moan, and seemed to have precisely the opposite effect. Chekov's face had crumpled a little, his voice breaking as he shouted for Doctor McCoy.
Sulu would later discover he had been comatose for five days. And for all that, his body still had not finished healing. Even knowing what had been done to his leg, Sulu's stomach revolted at the sight of it: his flesh bubbled and misshapen, distending over a barely-closed gash the length of his thigh. When he'd tried to stand, it nearly gave way beneath him. Five weeks of intense regenerative therapy would bring it back to full strength. McCoy had gravely remarked that Sulu was lucky it was still attached.
And so, at present, Sulu is doing his best to go back to normal. He doesn't exactly enjoy shambling through the corridors with a heavy, slow limp. And he hates worrying Chekov so much, who flutters by his side no matter how many reassurances Sulu gives. But really, he can handle this. If the worst damage is to his pride, Sulu thinks, he’ll count himself lucky.
It's only the looks that are starting to make him a little crazy.
**
It takes another day before Sulu realizes they aren't actually staring at him.
They're staring at Chekov.
The epiphany occurs when they arrive in the mess hall together, Sulu hauling his damaged leg along and Chekov slowing to keep pace. The doors have barely closed behind them when Riley and Kyle leap up from their table, only a few feet away.
"Lieutenant, you'll probably want to sit down," Kyle says, offering his chair.
"It's okay, really-" Sulu demurs.
"No," Riley says. And that's when Sulu notices he's flicking wary eyes over Chekov, over and over. "Hikaru, really, we were just about to leave."
Sulu narrows his eyes at both Kyle and Riley. Neither man has ever been particularly good friends with Chekov, but now they're both a little wide-eyed in his presence. Even though Chekov is the most junior officer out of the four of them, both Kyle and Riley have adopted that polite, but hotly curious demeanor Sulu had received so many times after the Narada incident.
"Kevin," Sulu pipes up. "You do realize I'll pay you back double in the gym for every ounce of pity you show me?"
"It's not pity," Riley insists. "It's just - well, you two deserve it. You know."
No, Sulu didn't know. But he's weirded out by the idea of asking, at least in front of a whole bunch of people.
"You are very kind, Lieutenant," Chekov replies. "This is a good table, yes, Hikaru?"
"Uh, sure. I guess," Sulu agrees.
"Hey, Hikaru, I'll see you in the gym soon," Riley says, and then his eyes dart to Chekov again. "I mean... when the doctor says you're ready for it."
"Get well, lieutenant," Kyle adds, and the two men make their exit, murmuring to each other as they go.
Sulu frowns after them. Certainly, it's not that he minds Chekov being treated with what is apparently some extra respect (although he does feel a bit foolish for assuming it was directed at him). After all he's been known to chew out older crewmen if he catches them deriding Chekov's age or his accent.
No, the only thing bothering Sulu is that he has no idea where this has suddenly come from. Especially since Chekov himself seems not to have noticed at all.
But how couldn't he notice? After all, while Chekov goes to the replicator to fetch lunch for both of them, a few curious looks follow him. Sulu catches a crewman from stellar cartography squinting at Chekov, as if trying to see something that wasn't there. Not long after, Sulu finds himself the target of a yeoman's lifted eyebrow, then watches her turn the same look to Chekov while whispering to her tablemate. And as Chekov returns to their table, settling down with two trays of food, one of the engineers watches them with a knowing smile.
The attention isn't hostile. It's just really, really unnerving.
"So, ah, Pavel," Sulu finally says.
"Yes?"
"Do you think people are acting a little weird lately?"
"Weird?" Chekov tilts his head innocently, although Sulu has been with him long enough to recognize the troubled flick of his eyes. "No, I have not noticed anything 'weird'."
"Really? You haven't noticed people looking at us?"
Chekov's lips tighten. "They are making you feel self-conscious? This is a violation of Starfleet standards regarding persons with different physical capabilities-"
"No, God, that's not it," Sulu says in faint exasperation. "In fact, they're not looking at me at all. They're looking at you."
Chekov shrugs, although he suddenly seems very intent on poking a fork into his beets. "I have not noticed anything."
"Uh huh. So you're completely used to guys like Riley and Kyle falling all over themselves around you?"
"They were not falling all over themselves," Chekov scoffs. "Hikaru, don't be ridiculous."
"It's funny," Sulu goes on, purposely ignoring the latter comment. "It seems like it started right after that away mission to Khas'us IV. Did something happen after I blacked out?"
Chekov's shoulders stiffen. "Hikaru," he says. "We should not talk about this."
"Why not?"
"Because I do not want to."
"You don't-" Sulu frowns, sliding a hand across the table to clasp over Chekov's. "Pavel, what's the matter?"
"Nothing is the matter," he insists, and turns pleading eyes up to Sulu. "Really, nothing."
Sulu kneads a reassuring thumb over Chekov's hand. "If it's upsetting you, it's something."
"I am not upset." Chekov withdraws his hand, choosing instead to fiddle with his napkin. "There is nothing, Hikaru."
Recognizing that Chekov's stubborn streak has kicked in, Sulu sighs to himself and decides to drop it. But that doesn't stop him from training a careful look on Chekov for the rest of their lunch, and from taking note of the unreadable frown that occasionally haunts his face.
**
"All right, lieutenant, lie still," McCoy says, flicking on the regenerator.
Lying flat on his back in sickbay, Sulu nods. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling. He still doesn't like to look at his leg, or even really think about what it looks like, but at least he can reassure himself it won't be that way for long.
In the meantime Sulu gets an increasingly painful reminder that yes, the deformed limb does belong to him - McCoy's treatment has the muscles re-knitting themselves over bone, grinding against the occasional nerve. A few minutes into the treatment Sulu's gripping the side of the biobed, his face white.
"Doctor," he finally says.
His voice is strained enough that McCoy immediately switches off the regenerator and looks up at him in alarm. "Dammit, lieutenant, why didn't you say anything sooner?"
"I thought it would go away," he hisses, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Yeah, well," McCoy laughs to himself as he presses a hypo into Sulu's neck. "Just don't sic Chekov on me."
Sulu's eyes flick up in a sudden glare. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Oh..." McCoy's amusement fades. "Nothing. The painkiller will kick in soon, I promise."
"You're talking about the away mission, aren't you?"
"Of course I am." McCoy sighs. "Ah, Mr. Sulu, I'm sorry. That was out of line. I should've realized it'd be kind of a sensitive subject."
"Hmph," Sulu answers. "For me to be sensitive about it, I'd have to know what happened in the first place."
A long silence greets this. "No one's told you?"
"No, as a matter of fact, they haven't."
"Not even Ensign Chekov?" McCoy asks in disbelief.
"Especially not him."
"Hoo..." McCoy sighs. "Probably should've seen that coming, given how upset he was."
"Can you just-" Sulu nearly snaps at him again, but catches himself. "Will you at least give me an idea?"
McCoy slides him an uneasy look. "I don't like to get involved in other people's relationships, you know. If Chekov wasn't ready to talk about it..."
"Well, I'm ready to talk about it." Sulu's eyes flash. "And I have a right to know."
"Yeah." McCoy sighs, putting down the hypo. "Yeah, I suppose you do. All right. What's the last thing you do remember?"
"I remember -" Sulu says. "Being on the ground, about to get stabbed a second time. I lost consciousness before it happened."
"Ah," McCoy says. "So you missed the part where it didn't happen, because Ensign Chekov beat the sonofabitch to death with his own weapon."
"What?" Sulu sits up sharply. "Pavel?"
"Your boyfriend does have basic Starfleet combat training, you know."
"I know he can fight," Sulu answers, irritated. "But that alien was at least a foot taller than me, not to mention several yards away from the rest of the group. He could have killed himself!”
"He was pretty clever about it, actually. He took part of the incendiary device they used against you, and launched it back at the Khas'ian attacking you. The fire gave Chekov a good advantage, and, well - so did the element of surprise, not to mention determination. Defending a mate is one of the most primal instincts in the universe, you know." McCoy smirks at him. "Oh, really now, lieutenant. You had no problem taking your pants off when I asked, but the word mate makes you blush?"
"It's not that," Sulu mutters. And then after a moment: "Okay, it sort of is that. But..."
"But you didn't know Chekov had it in him?" McCoy says. "Yeah, well, neither did the rest of us. I don't think even he knew. Honestly, Mr. Sulu - the boy was out of his mind. He was still trying to throw punches when Jim pulled him away from the corpse. Even took a few swings at Jim himself, which everybody was kind enough not to mention in their reports."
"Oh, God..." Sulu mutters, face in his hands.
"Son," McCoy says, a little more gently. "Seeing the condition you were in, nobody in their right mind could blame Chekov. Frankly speaking, as your doctor, I consider it a damn miracle there was enough of you left to put back together. The amount of work I had to do on your spine alone-"
Sulu tries to repress a shudder. "Yeah, okay, I get it."
"Oh, my apologies." McCoy cocks an eyebrow. "I forget how squeamish you delicate security types can get."
This brings a reluctant snort of laughter from Sulu, who's grateful for the change of subject. He lies back down, and they fall quiet for the rest of the treatment: McCoy focusing on his work, and Sulu quietly drumming his fingers on the biobed and thinking over and over what he's just learned.
*****
Sulu's injuries have left him on restricted duty, meaning he's got plenty of time in his quarters to sit, prop his leg up, and continue his brooding. As soon as Chekov gets off shift and arrives at his quarters, he hauls himself to his feet.
"Hikaru, you should not get up-" Chekov's admonition is cut short as Sulu crushes him in a hug. "What is this...?"
He muffles a laugh against Chekov's shoulder. "I need a reason?"
"No..." Chekov trails off so that they can share a quick kiss. "But something has happened, yes?"
"…Yeah. It kind of has." Sulu takes a deep breath. For all the time he'd had to sit and think, he still hasn't come up with a diplomatic opening. "I had a talk with Doctor McCoy today. He filled me in on a few of the details about what happened on Khas'us IV."
"Oh." The smile has died on Chekov's face. Icily he turns away, heading toward the replicator, stabbing a finger at the controls.
"Oh?" Sulu repeats. "That's it?"
He doesn't look up. "What would you like me to say?"
"I don't know. Anything?" Sulu bursts out. "You saved my life! Were you ever going to tell me? I feel like such an ungrateful idiot not even knowing!"
Chekov's shoulders sag. "Yes, I did not realize how difficult your position would be. I am sorry for that."
"You don't-" Sulu takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible. “Of all things, ‘sorry’ is the last thing you should be. But. This is what you didn't want to talk about?"
"Yes. And I still do not."
"Well, I do," Sulu says. "You saved me. You took a terrible risk. This is kind of important."
Chekov casts a miserable look toward him. "That cannot be what you worry about. You should focus on yourself, on getting better."
“I can do that and worry about you at the same time, you know.” Sulu catches him by the shoulders from behind, kneading softly, planting a kiss at the back of Chekov's neck. "Pavel, I swear, I'm not trying to make things harder for you. I just - I just want you to talk to me."
"I don't want to talk!" Chekov hisses. He's grown very stiff, white hands balled up at his sides. "Don't you realize that I can barely stand to think about it! You almost died!"
"Okay," Sulu murmurs, pulling Chekov toward him, clasping him tightly. "I know, I know. But it's okay now. You saved me. You were there when I woke up."
"How could I be anywhere else?" he whispers. He pulls back, turning to glare at Sulu. "And is not okay, Hikaru. Not at all. We have relied on you too much. Me, the captain, all of us. We have always assumed you will be strong and invincible. We allowed you to put yourself in danger first and most. This should not have happened."
"Yeah, well, it's kind of what I'm there for."
Chekov's glare deepens. "What does this mean?"
"It means-" Sulu laughs uneasily. "It means that's what I do. I'm not on the bridge crew for my brainpower, like you or Spock. I'm there because I can fight, or at least, that's supposed to be the idea."
"Hikaru, you cannot say such things-"
"I'm just telling you." Sulu runs a gentle thumb over Chekov's cheek. "I know what I signed up for. And - I hate myself for failing, and for getting you pulled into it. What you did was incredibly dangerous. It scares the hell out of me to think about it."
"Well, now you have some taste of how I felt," Chekov snaps. "How I always feel, when you have one of your missions."
"Yes, I know. But you can't think you'll always be able to do that. No -" he says sharply, catching the look on Chekov's face. "Pavel, listen. I don't mean your skill. I know you're a good fighter. But you had a lot of adrenaline and luck on your side, and that won't always be there for you. That's all I’m saying. Next time, just - be more careful."
Pavel pales. "Next time?"
"I didn't mean that-"
"Of course you did. Of course there will be a next time." Chekov paces. "And you think I should just sit back. You think I can just lose you, dispose of you, move on."
"What? No!"
"Then what is this- this- bullshit about the bridge needing me and Spock but not you?" Chekov answers. "Do you really think this has anything to do with the ship? This is you, Hikaru! You would rather be the one in danger! It is okay for you to go running into fights but not me! This is what you think, isn't it?"
"That would be my preference, yes," Sulu answers tightly.
"I don't care what you prefer. I will never agree with such a thing. Not in my entire life!"
"Just don't take any more stupid risks!" Sulu barks, finally losing his patience. "And especially don't take them for me! That isn't your job, Pavel!"
"You won’t win this,” Chekov seethes. His face has gone scarlet, his eyes glittering, and he thrusts forward a shaking finger. "You will never win this. I will not lose you, Hikaru."
He's close to tears, and Sulu presses a tight hand over his own face, breathing deeply and trying to calm himself.
"Okay, okay." Sulu hobbles toward him, as fast as his leg will allow. "Pavel, it's okay."
"Do not hurt yourself," Chekov mutters.
"Ssh," Sulu whispers, throwing a fierce arm around Chekov's shoulders. He's still ramrod tense, still trembling, still breathing hard. Sulu kisses his parted lips, again and again, a soft repeated plea for him to calm down. Slowly, it seems to work. Chekov’s mouth opens to him, his hands finding Sulu’s waist.
"I love you," Sulu murmurs. "I'm not going anywhere. OK?"
Chekov whimpers a little, his fingers suddenly knotting Sulu's shirt.
"You frightened me so much," he says. "God, Hikaru, I keep trying not to think of it, but it still comes up in my mind - your face looked dead, and there was blood everywhere on the transporter pad. And your leg, we could see the bones..."
"It's all right now," he whispers, clasping at the back of Chekov's head.
"And then you would not wake up for so many days." Chekov’s voice is raw. “It felt like years, just watching you, and you would not move.”
"You woke me up," Sulu answers. "You did that, you know?"
For a long moment Chekov clings to him, breathes him in, kisses him, as if to reassure himself that Sulu is really there. He’s still out of breath, but Sulu can feel the tremors as Chekov begins to relax, the way their hips settle against each other. He strokes up and down Chekov’s back, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck.
"Hikaru?"
"Mmm, yes?"
Chekov’s voice betrays only the tiniest hint of amusement. "You have found this conversation arousing?" And he shifts his body closer, his pelvis deliberately brushing Sulu’s telltale hardness.
Sulu laughs, slightly embarrassed. "Well, it’s not like I want to make a habit of this kind of thing," he says, kissing at Chekov's bottom lip, “but you do look kind of sexy when you’re mad.”
Thankfully, Chekov’s dark mood seems to be lifting. "You are sure this will not strain your leg?"
"Mmm." Sulu laughs as he trails kisses along Chekov's jaw. "Only if we do it right..."
"Hikaru," Chekov protests, and that damned anxious look wrinkles his face again. "You must take this seriously!"
"And you must relax." He's getting aggressive, snaking a hand under Chekov’s shirt to caress at his back, squeezing at his ass with the other.
"Stop it," Chekov says, but he doesn't quite catch a giggle before it escapes.
"Stop what? Stop this?" Sulu answers, finding that spot behind his ear that he knows to be sensitive, dragging his teeth lightly over it. Chekov sucks in a sharp breath, his hips jerking forward against Sulu's.
"You- you are going to hurt yourself..."
"Really? 'Cause I'm starting to feel like the opposite of hurt." Sulu's fingers drift to Chekov's waist, playing along the rim of his pants. "Pavel, it's been forever."
"We did things this morning," Chekov protests.
"Pffft. Handjobs. Like I said, forever."
"You and your urges."
“Oh, my urges?" Sulu laughs. His fingers slip down the front of Chekov's trousers and around his hardening dick. "What's this all about, then?"
"Hi-Hikaru," Chekov protests, his voice breaking as Sulu strokes him roughly. "Yes..."
And now it's Chekov who's gotten aggressive, swallowing up Sulu's mouth with a kiss. He locks a tight arm around Sulu's shoulders, pushing fingers up through his hair. For a long moment there is nothing but Pavel's mouth and his skin and his hoarse demanding moans when Sulu kisses him back hard. They break apart only for Chekov to pull his shirt up and over his head, his pale skin already flushed pink. He tugs impatiently at Sulu’s, and soon their bare chests are pressed back together, skin sliding against sweat-slicked skin.
Breathless, they stumble toward the bedroom. Sulu leans on Chekov more than he'd like, trying to drag his leg and focus on Chekov's mouth at the same time. But they make it to the bed anyway, or at least Sulu does, collapsing flat on his back while Chekov stays standing to pull off the rest of his clothes.
Despite his arousal, a cold flutter goes through Sulu's stomach at the prospect of taking off his own trousers. He's grateful that they haven't turned the lights on, that their bedroom is lit only by passing stars outside. He has no idea if Pavel had seen his leg while he was unconscious, but he knows he very much does not want him to see it now.
"Hikaru?" Chekov crawls onto the bed, eyes heavy with concern, and strokes at Sulu's forehead. "Is something wrong?"
"No, it's just, uh..." Sulu swallows, casting a look out the window. "You know this isn't going to be a very pleasant sight, right?"
Chekov appears faintly heartbroken at this, but chases it away as best as he can. "Yes," he says boldly, "I always think it is better than merely pleasant when you take off your pants."
"Pavel," Sulu says, "you know what I mean."
"You..." Chekov strokes at Sulu's chest reassuringly. "You know it is only proof of how brave and heroic you are, yes?"
He nearly points out that it's more like proof of how badly he'd gotten his ass kicked, but there's nothing attractive about self-pity.
"You do not wish to do this?" Chekov asks in a small voice.
"For God's sake, I didn't say that," Sulu answers, turning back to Chekov with a rough kiss. He breaks off, an embarrassed little smile coming to his lips. "Just, y'know, if you could pretend you don't notice it. That's all."
"Mmmm, this should not be difficult." Chekov tugs down Sulu’s trousers and underwear, casting them aside, and strokes at his fat, dark erection. "How can I focus on anything but this?"
Sulu laughs. "Ooh. Now that's a clever answer."
"Mmm, and it is true," Chekov murmurs, reaching into the side table for a bottle. "Considering I can only think about having it inside me..."
He settles back with the lubricant. Normally Sulu likes to prepare Chekov himself, to get him squirming and whimpering before they even fuck. But now Sulu watches, spellbound and stroking himself lazily, as Chekov slicks up his own long, pale fingers. Keeping a heavy-lidded gaze fixed on Sulu, he leans back and teases apart his ass; then slides a finger into the cleft. Chekov groans in anticipation as he slides in another finger, and another, knuckles disappearing as he buries his fingers deep. It takes every bit of discipline Sulu has not to jerk himself off right there.
"Naughty Hikaru, touching yourself when I am all ready for you," Chekov teases, crawling closer. He uses the same lube-slicked fingers to prepare Sulu's cock, his strokes torturously slow. "When I want this so bad...”
Sulu kicks out his good leg, his hips rising in anticipation. "God, Pavel, I fucking need you..."
Chekov slings a leg over him, straddling. But he leans forward for a kiss, laughing into Sulu's mouth when Sulu grabs his ass impatiently and guides him down. Carefully, carefully Chekov mounts him; slides himself down on Sulu's cock, tensing as it fills him up. Sulu waits for Chekov to relax before he thrusts up, and they work into a slow, tentative rhythm, until-
"Dammit!" Sulu hisses. His face whitens and he sucks in a sharp breath. They'd gotten a little too careless, at a bad angle, and he can't avoid the bone-deep shock of pain shooting through his left leg.
"Hikaru -" Chekov lifts himself, retreating. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
"Don't you dare stop," Sulu grinds out, rough fingers digging into Chekov's hip. "Just - be careful."
Chekov nods, sliding back down, but he's grown skittish.
It's just as well, Sulu thinks - it gives him an opportunity to set the pace. By now he knows Chekov's body, he knows exactly where and how he likes to get fucked. Sulu keeps his dark eyes fixed on Chekov's face as he thrusts up, deep and swiveling and deliberate, and he's rewarded by the sight of him slowly coming undone: the increasingly helpless flutter of Pavel's eyelashes, the reddening of his face and tightening of his nipples, the way Pavel's bottom lip drops open when he lets out a ragged "Ohh- ohhhhh!"
No matter how many times they've had sex, that noise will never not threaten to make Sulu lose control of himself completely.
He bites his lip, trying to restrain himself. He hadn't meant to rush this; he'd wanted to fuck Pavel slow and hard, for as long as it took to erase every last lingering worry. But Pavel's grinding down on him, the pressure beginning to tighten and quake around Sulu's cock as he nears climax, and, the hell with it. Sulu's fucking him violently now, reaching forward to jerk Pavel's bobbing erection; with his eyes closed, Chekov hadn't seen it coming, and he cries out in delirious surprise as the sensation registers.
"Hikaru - Hikaru -" Chekov breathes the name in and out in harsh bursts, his fist seizing against the sheets as he throws his head back, and then with a choked cry he spills himself all over Sulu's chest.
Already close to the edge himself, Sulu’s vision temporarily whites out at the sensation of Chekov clenching around him. His hips are pistoning up harder, faster, his voice rising into uncontrolled moans as climax rips through him not long after.
It takes a few moments before Chekov rolls off, carefully, staggering off to fetch a towel. After they've cleaned off a little, Chekov collapses beside Sulu on the bed - on the side opposite his injured leg, Sulu notices gratefully - a limp, exhausted pool in his arms. Their fingers interlace, Chekov's head coming to rest in the crook of Sulu's neck.
It comes to his mind to say I love you. Or I'm proud of you or I'm sorry or a million other things that won't fix what happened. But Chekov is drifting into sleep, and Sulu doesn’t have the heart to disturb him. For now he contents himself with the drowsy smile playing at Chekov’s lips, and the way he curls up tighter when Sulu kisses his forehead.
-end-
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
Summary: Fill for the following kink meme prompt: "Sulu is badly hurt/almost killed. Chekov goes full on fucking berserk on the person responsible. Bonus if the rest of the crew is suddenly a LOT more careful around Chekov afterwards and Sulu can't figure out why."
Note: This was filled a long time ago on the kink meme and I'm reposting it in my journal mainly for archive purposes. So, apologies if you've already read this.
The last time Hikaru Sulu had so many people staring at him, it was after the Narada incident.
That was more than a year ago. But Sulu still remembers the curious looks drifting toward him in the mess hall, the widening eyes when he introduced himself, the whispered questions in the turbolift. Sulu had been damned uncomfortable with it, given that his entire presence on the Narada mission was a fluke in the first place, not to mention he still found it grimly hilarious that anyone might characterize his terrified flailing on Nero's drill as “heroic.” He had been greatly relieved when the attention died down, the stares faded away, and most people simply forgot about it.
Now, ever since the mission to Khas'us IV, crewmembers have started staring again. This time, Sulu isn't uncomfortable. He's completely confused.
After all, Khas'us IV had been his worst failure since Vulcan, thanks to an ambush by an anti-Federation militia.
He and Captain Kirk had been fighting off their attackers, when something - some scalding explosion of blood and chemicals - had roared into Sulu's back, flattening him against the rocky ground so hard he could hear the precise moment his skull cracked. Through dizzying pain Sulu could barely see, could barely think, could barely recognize the sound of his own voice screaming and screaming as the fire and acid seared straight down to his bones.
Dimly, he had registered the presence of a Khas'ian fighter towering over him, raising a gnarled scythe-like weapon to strike. By some miraculous burst of adrenaline, Sulu had wormed away in time to prevent the weapon striking his burned back. It punctured his leg instead, ripping through bone and muscle and skin, splitting his thigh open from hip to knee like a sausage. Barely hanging on to consciousness, Sulu had cast his eyes upward to see the scythe raised again for the killing blow. He had blacked out before it could land.
The next thing Sulu remembered was struggling awake in sickbay.
A dull ache had weighed down his limbs; drugs did the same to his mind. But he'd felt a clenching grip on his left hand, heard a familiar accented voice urged him toward consciousness. Sulu had finally dragged open his eyes to find Chekov hunched at his bedside. Pavel's eyes were bloodshot, his disheveled curls spiralling out in all directions, and his face heavier than any nineteen-year-old face had a right to be.
"Pavel, it's okay, relax," Sulu had tried to reassure him, but the words came out a slurred moan, and seemed to have precisely the opposite effect. Chekov's face had crumpled a little, his voice breaking as he shouted for Doctor McCoy.
Sulu would later discover he had been comatose for five days. And for all that, his body still had not finished healing. Even knowing what had been done to his leg, Sulu's stomach revolted at the sight of it: his flesh bubbled and misshapen, distending over a barely-closed gash the length of his thigh. When he'd tried to stand, it nearly gave way beneath him. Five weeks of intense regenerative therapy would bring it back to full strength. McCoy had gravely remarked that Sulu was lucky it was still attached.
And so, at present, Sulu is doing his best to go back to normal. He doesn't exactly enjoy shambling through the corridors with a heavy, slow limp. And he hates worrying Chekov so much, who flutters by his side no matter how many reassurances Sulu gives. But really, he can handle this. If the worst damage is to his pride, Sulu thinks, he’ll count himself lucky.
It's only the looks that are starting to make him a little crazy.
**
It takes another day before Sulu realizes they aren't actually staring at him.
They're staring at Chekov.
The epiphany occurs when they arrive in the mess hall together, Sulu hauling his damaged leg along and Chekov slowing to keep pace. The doors have barely closed behind them when Riley and Kyle leap up from their table, only a few feet away.
"Lieutenant, you'll probably want to sit down," Kyle says, offering his chair.
"It's okay, really-" Sulu demurs.
"No," Riley says. And that's when Sulu notices he's flicking wary eyes over Chekov, over and over. "Hikaru, really, we were just about to leave."
Sulu narrows his eyes at both Kyle and Riley. Neither man has ever been particularly good friends with Chekov, but now they're both a little wide-eyed in his presence. Even though Chekov is the most junior officer out of the four of them, both Kyle and Riley have adopted that polite, but hotly curious demeanor Sulu had received so many times after the Narada incident.
"Kevin," Sulu pipes up. "You do realize I'll pay you back double in the gym for every ounce of pity you show me?"
"It's not pity," Riley insists. "It's just - well, you two deserve it. You know."
No, Sulu didn't know. But he's weirded out by the idea of asking, at least in front of a whole bunch of people.
"You are very kind, Lieutenant," Chekov replies. "This is a good table, yes, Hikaru?"
"Uh, sure. I guess," Sulu agrees.
"Hey, Hikaru, I'll see you in the gym soon," Riley says, and then his eyes dart to Chekov again. "I mean... when the doctor says you're ready for it."
"Get well, lieutenant," Kyle adds, and the two men make their exit, murmuring to each other as they go.
Sulu frowns after them. Certainly, it's not that he minds Chekov being treated with what is apparently some extra respect (although he does feel a bit foolish for assuming it was directed at him). After all he's been known to chew out older crewmen if he catches them deriding Chekov's age or his accent.
No, the only thing bothering Sulu is that he has no idea where this has suddenly come from. Especially since Chekov himself seems not to have noticed at all.
But how couldn't he notice? After all, while Chekov goes to the replicator to fetch lunch for both of them, a few curious looks follow him. Sulu catches a crewman from stellar cartography squinting at Chekov, as if trying to see something that wasn't there. Not long after, Sulu finds himself the target of a yeoman's lifted eyebrow, then watches her turn the same look to Chekov while whispering to her tablemate. And as Chekov returns to their table, settling down with two trays of food, one of the engineers watches them with a knowing smile.
The attention isn't hostile. It's just really, really unnerving.
"So, ah, Pavel," Sulu finally says.
"Yes?"
"Do you think people are acting a little weird lately?"
"Weird?" Chekov tilts his head innocently, although Sulu has been with him long enough to recognize the troubled flick of his eyes. "No, I have not noticed anything 'weird'."
"Really? You haven't noticed people looking at us?"
Chekov's lips tighten. "They are making you feel self-conscious? This is a violation of Starfleet standards regarding persons with different physical capabilities-"
"No, God, that's not it," Sulu says in faint exasperation. "In fact, they're not looking at me at all. They're looking at you."
Chekov shrugs, although he suddenly seems very intent on poking a fork into his beets. "I have not noticed anything."
"Uh huh. So you're completely used to guys like Riley and Kyle falling all over themselves around you?"
"They were not falling all over themselves," Chekov scoffs. "Hikaru, don't be ridiculous."
"It's funny," Sulu goes on, purposely ignoring the latter comment. "It seems like it started right after that away mission to Khas'us IV. Did something happen after I blacked out?"
Chekov's shoulders stiffen. "Hikaru," he says. "We should not talk about this."
"Why not?"
"Because I do not want to."
"You don't-" Sulu frowns, sliding a hand across the table to clasp over Chekov's. "Pavel, what's the matter?"
"Nothing is the matter," he insists, and turns pleading eyes up to Sulu. "Really, nothing."
Sulu kneads a reassuring thumb over Chekov's hand. "If it's upsetting you, it's something."
"I am not upset." Chekov withdraws his hand, choosing instead to fiddle with his napkin. "There is nothing, Hikaru."
Recognizing that Chekov's stubborn streak has kicked in, Sulu sighs to himself and decides to drop it. But that doesn't stop him from training a careful look on Chekov for the rest of their lunch, and from taking note of the unreadable frown that occasionally haunts his face.
**
"All right, lieutenant, lie still," McCoy says, flicking on the regenerator.
Lying flat on his back in sickbay, Sulu nods. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling. He still doesn't like to look at his leg, or even really think about what it looks like, but at least he can reassure himself it won't be that way for long.
In the meantime Sulu gets an increasingly painful reminder that yes, the deformed limb does belong to him - McCoy's treatment has the muscles re-knitting themselves over bone, grinding against the occasional nerve. A few minutes into the treatment Sulu's gripping the side of the biobed, his face white.
"Doctor," he finally says.
His voice is strained enough that McCoy immediately switches off the regenerator and looks up at him in alarm. "Dammit, lieutenant, why didn't you say anything sooner?"
"I thought it would go away," he hisses, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Yeah, well," McCoy laughs to himself as he presses a hypo into Sulu's neck. "Just don't sic Chekov on me."
Sulu's eyes flick up in a sudden glare. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Oh..." McCoy's amusement fades. "Nothing. The painkiller will kick in soon, I promise."
"You're talking about the away mission, aren't you?"
"Of course I am." McCoy sighs. "Ah, Mr. Sulu, I'm sorry. That was out of line. I should've realized it'd be kind of a sensitive subject."
"Hmph," Sulu answers. "For me to be sensitive about it, I'd have to know what happened in the first place."
A long silence greets this. "No one's told you?"
"No, as a matter of fact, they haven't."
"Not even Ensign Chekov?" McCoy asks in disbelief.
"Especially not him."
"Hoo..." McCoy sighs. "Probably should've seen that coming, given how upset he was."
"Can you just-" Sulu nearly snaps at him again, but catches himself. "Will you at least give me an idea?"
McCoy slides him an uneasy look. "I don't like to get involved in other people's relationships, you know. If Chekov wasn't ready to talk about it..."
"Well, I'm ready to talk about it." Sulu's eyes flash. "And I have a right to know."
"Yeah." McCoy sighs, putting down the hypo. "Yeah, I suppose you do. All right. What's the last thing you do remember?"
"I remember -" Sulu says. "Being on the ground, about to get stabbed a second time. I lost consciousness before it happened."
"Ah," McCoy says. "So you missed the part where it didn't happen, because Ensign Chekov beat the sonofabitch to death with his own weapon."
"What?" Sulu sits up sharply. "Pavel?"
"Your boyfriend does have basic Starfleet combat training, you know."
"I know he can fight," Sulu answers, irritated. "But that alien was at least a foot taller than me, not to mention several yards away from the rest of the group. He could have killed himself!”
"He was pretty clever about it, actually. He took part of the incendiary device they used against you, and launched it back at the Khas'ian attacking you. The fire gave Chekov a good advantage, and, well - so did the element of surprise, not to mention determination. Defending a mate is one of the most primal instincts in the universe, you know." McCoy smirks at him. "Oh, really now, lieutenant. You had no problem taking your pants off when I asked, but the word mate makes you blush?"
"It's not that," Sulu mutters. And then after a moment: "Okay, it sort of is that. But..."
"But you didn't know Chekov had it in him?" McCoy says. "Yeah, well, neither did the rest of us. I don't think even he knew. Honestly, Mr. Sulu - the boy was out of his mind. He was still trying to throw punches when Jim pulled him away from the corpse. Even took a few swings at Jim himself, which everybody was kind enough not to mention in their reports."
"Oh, God..." Sulu mutters, face in his hands.
"Son," McCoy says, a little more gently. "Seeing the condition you were in, nobody in their right mind could blame Chekov. Frankly speaking, as your doctor, I consider it a damn miracle there was enough of you left to put back together. The amount of work I had to do on your spine alone-"
Sulu tries to repress a shudder. "Yeah, okay, I get it."
"Oh, my apologies." McCoy cocks an eyebrow. "I forget how squeamish you delicate security types can get."
This brings a reluctant snort of laughter from Sulu, who's grateful for the change of subject. He lies back down, and they fall quiet for the rest of the treatment: McCoy focusing on his work, and Sulu quietly drumming his fingers on the biobed and thinking over and over what he's just learned.
*****
Sulu's injuries have left him on restricted duty, meaning he's got plenty of time in his quarters to sit, prop his leg up, and continue his brooding. As soon as Chekov gets off shift and arrives at his quarters, he hauls himself to his feet.
"Hikaru, you should not get up-" Chekov's admonition is cut short as Sulu crushes him in a hug. "What is this...?"
He muffles a laugh against Chekov's shoulder. "I need a reason?"
"No..." Chekov trails off so that they can share a quick kiss. "But something has happened, yes?"
"…Yeah. It kind of has." Sulu takes a deep breath. For all the time he'd had to sit and think, he still hasn't come up with a diplomatic opening. "I had a talk with Doctor McCoy today. He filled me in on a few of the details about what happened on Khas'us IV."
"Oh." The smile has died on Chekov's face. Icily he turns away, heading toward the replicator, stabbing a finger at the controls.
"Oh?" Sulu repeats. "That's it?"
He doesn't look up. "What would you like me to say?"
"I don't know. Anything?" Sulu bursts out. "You saved my life! Were you ever going to tell me? I feel like such an ungrateful idiot not even knowing!"
Chekov's shoulders sag. "Yes, I did not realize how difficult your position would be. I am sorry for that."
"You don't-" Sulu takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible. “Of all things, ‘sorry’ is the last thing you should be. But. This is what you didn't want to talk about?"
"Yes. And I still do not."
"Well, I do," Sulu says. "You saved me. You took a terrible risk. This is kind of important."
Chekov casts a miserable look toward him. "That cannot be what you worry about. You should focus on yourself, on getting better."
“I can do that and worry about you at the same time, you know.” Sulu catches him by the shoulders from behind, kneading softly, planting a kiss at the back of Chekov's neck. "Pavel, I swear, I'm not trying to make things harder for you. I just - I just want you to talk to me."
"I don't want to talk!" Chekov hisses. He's grown very stiff, white hands balled up at his sides. "Don't you realize that I can barely stand to think about it! You almost died!"
"Okay," Sulu murmurs, pulling Chekov toward him, clasping him tightly. "I know, I know. But it's okay now. You saved me. You were there when I woke up."
"How could I be anywhere else?" he whispers. He pulls back, turning to glare at Sulu. "And is not okay, Hikaru. Not at all. We have relied on you too much. Me, the captain, all of us. We have always assumed you will be strong and invincible. We allowed you to put yourself in danger first and most. This should not have happened."
"Yeah, well, it's kind of what I'm there for."
Chekov's glare deepens. "What does this mean?"
"It means-" Sulu laughs uneasily. "It means that's what I do. I'm not on the bridge crew for my brainpower, like you or Spock. I'm there because I can fight, or at least, that's supposed to be the idea."
"Hikaru, you cannot say such things-"
"I'm just telling you." Sulu runs a gentle thumb over Chekov's cheek. "I know what I signed up for. And - I hate myself for failing, and for getting you pulled into it. What you did was incredibly dangerous. It scares the hell out of me to think about it."
"Well, now you have some taste of how I felt," Chekov snaps. "How I always feel, when you have one of your missions."
"Yes, I know. But you can't think you'll always be able to do that. No -" he says sharply, catching the look on Chekov's face. "Pavel, listen. I don't mean your skill. I know you're a good fighter. But you had a lot of adrenaline and luck on your side, and that won't always be there for you. That's all I’m saying. Next time, just - be more careful."
Pavel pales. "Next time?"
"I didn't mean that-"
"Of course you did. Of course there will be a next time." Chekov paces. "And you think I should just sit back. You think I can just lose you, dispose of you, move on."
"What? No!"
"Then what is this- this- bullshit about the bridge needing me and Spock but not you?" Chekov answers. "Do you really think this has anything to do with the ship? This is you, Hikaru! You would rather be the one in danger! It is okay for you to go running into fights but not me! This is what you think, isn't it?"
"That would be my preference, yes," Sulu answers tightly.
"I don't care what you prefer. I will never agree with such a thing. Not in my entire life!"
"Just don't take any more stupid risks!" Sulu barks, finally losing his patience. "And especially don't take them for me! That isn't your job, Pavel!"
"You won’t win this,” Chekov seethes. His face has gone scarlet, his eyes glittering, and he thrusts forward a shaking finger. "You will never win this. I will not lose you, Hikaru."
He's close to tears, and Sulu presses a tight hand over his own face, breathing deeply and trying to calm himself.
"Okay, okay." Sulu hobbles toward him, as fast as his leg will allow. "Pavel, it's okay."
"Do not hurt yourself," Chekov mutters.
"Ssh," Sulu whispers, throwing a fierce arm around Chekov's shoulders. He's still ramrod tense, still trembling, still breathing hard. Sulu kisses his parted lips, again and again, a soft repeated plea for him to calm down. Slowly, it seems to work. Chekov’s mouth opens to him, his hands finding Sulu’s waist.
"I love you," Sulu murmurs. "I'm not going anywhere. OK?"
Chekov whimpers a little, his fingers suddenly knotting Sulu's shirt.
"You frightened me so much," he says. "God, Hikaru, I keep trying not to think of it, but it still comes up in my mind - your face looked dead, and there was blood everywhere on the transporter pad. And your leg, we could see the bones..."
"It's all right now," he whispers, clasping at the back of Chekov's head.
"And then you would not wake up for so many days." Chekov’s voice is raw. “It felt like years, just watching you, and you would not move.”
"You woke me up," Sulu answers. "You did that, you know?"
For a long moment Chekov clings to him, breathes him in, kisses him, as if to reassure himself that Sulu is really there. He’s still out of breath, but Sulu can feel the tremors as Chekov begins to relax, the way their hips settle against each other. He strokes up and down Chekov’s back, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck.
"Hikaru?"
"Mmm, yes?"
Chekov’s voice betrays only the tiniest hint of amusement. "You have found this conversation arousing?" And he shifts his body closer, his pelvis deliberately brushing Sulu’s telltale hardness.
Sulu laughs, slightly embarrassed. "Well, it’s not like I want to make a habit of this kind of thing," he says, kissing at Chekov's bottom lip, “but you do look kind of sexy when you’re mad.”
Thankfully, Chekov’s dark mood seems to be lifting. "You are sure this will not strain your leg?"
"Mmm." Sulu laughs as he trails kisses along Chekov's jaw. "Only if we do it right..."
"Hikaru," Chekov protests, and that damned anxious look wrinkles his face again. "You must take this seriously!"
"And you must relax." He's getting aggressive, snaking a hand under Chekov’s shirt to caress at his back, squeezing at his ass with the other.
"Stop it," Chekov says, but he doesn't quite catch a giggle before it escapes.
"Stop what? Stop this?" Sulu answers, finding that spot behind his ear that he knows to be sensitive, dragging his teeth lightly over it. Chekov sucks in a sharp breath, his hips jerking forward against Sulu's.
"You- you are going to hurt yourself..."
"Really? 'Cause I'm starting to feel like the opposite of hurt." Sulu's fingers drift to Chekov's waist, playing along the rim of his pants. "Pavel, it's been forever."
"We did things this morning," Chekov protests.
"Pffft. Handjobs. Like I said, forever."
"You and your urges."
“Oh, my urges?" Sulu laughs. His fingers slip down the front of Chekov's trousers and around his hardening dick. "What's this all about, then?"
"Hi-Hikaru," Chekov protests, his voice breaking as Sulu strokes him roughly. "Yes..."
And now it's Chekov who's gotten aggressive, swallowing up Sulu's mouth with a kiss. He locks a tight arm around Sulu's shoulders, pushing fingers up through his hair. For a long moment there is nothing but Pavel's mouth and his skin and his hoarse demanding moans when Sulu kisses him back hard. They break apart only for Chekov to pull his shirt up and over his head, his pale skin already flushed pink. He tugs impatiently at Sulu’s, and soon their bare chests are pressed back together, skin sliding against sweat-slicked skin.
Breathless, they stumble toward the bedroom. Sulu leans on Chekov more than he'd like, trying to drag his leg and focus on Chekov's mouth at the same time. But they make it to the bed anyway, or at least Sulu does, collapsing flat on his back while Chekov stays standing to pull off the rest of his clothes.
Despite his arousal, a cold flutter goes through Sulu's stomach at the prospect of taking off his own trousers. He's grateful that they haven't turned the lights on, that their bedroom is lit only by passing stars outside. He has no idea if Pavel had seen his leg while he was unconscious, but he knows he very much does not want him to see it now.
"Hikaru?" Chekov crawls onto the bed, eyes heavy with concern, and strokes at Sulu's forehead. "Is something wrong?"
"No, it's just, uh..." Sulu swallows, casting a look out the window. "You know this isn't going to be a very pleasant sight, right?"
Chekov appears faintly heartbroken at this, but chases it away as best as he can. "Yes," he says boldly, "I always think it is better than merely pleasant when you take off your pants."
"Pavel," Sulu says, "you know what I mean."
"You..." Chekov strokes at Sulu's chest reassuringly. "You know it is only proof of how brave and heroic you are, yes?"
He nearly points out that it's more like proof of how badly he'd gotten his ass kicked, but there's nothing attractive about self-pity.
"You do not wish to do this?" Chekov asks in a small voice.
"For God's sake, I didn't say that," Sulu answers, turning back to Chekov with a rough kiss. He breaks off, an embarrassed little smile coming to his lips. "Just, y'know, if you could pretend you don't notice it. That's all."
"Mmmm, this should not be difficult." Chekov tugs down Sulu’s trousers and underwear, casting them aside, and strokes at his fat, dark erection. "How can I focus on anything but this?"
Sulu laughs. "Ooh. Now that's a clever answer."
"Mmm, and it is true," Chekov murmurs, reaching into the side table for a bottle. "Considering I can only think about having it inside me..."
He settles back with the lubricant. Normally Sulu likes to prepare Chekov himself, to get him squirming and whimpering before they even fuck. But now Sulu watches, spellbound and stroking himself lazily, as Chekov slicks up his own long, pale fingers. Keeping a heavy-lidded gaze fixed on Sulu, he leans back and teases apart his ass; then slides a finger into the cleft. Chekov groans in anticipation as he slides in another finger, and another, knuckles disappearing as he buries his fingers deep. It takes every bit of discipline Sulu has not to jerk himself off right there.
"Naughty Hikaru, touching yourself when I am all ready for you," Chekov teases, crawling closer. He uses the same lube-slicked fingers to prepare Sulu's cock, his strokes torturously slow. "When I want this so bad...”
Sulu kicks out his good leg, his hips rising in anticipation. "God, Pavel, I fucking need you..."
Chekov slings a leg over him, straddling. But he leans forward for a kiss, laughing into Sulu's mouth when Sulu grabs his ass impatiently and guides him down. Carefully, carefully Chekov mounts him; slides himself down on Sulu's cock, tensing as it fills him up. Sulu waits for Chekov to relax before he thrusts up, and they work into a slow, tentative rhythm, until-
"Dammit!" Sulu hisses. His face whitens and he sucks in a sharp breath. They'd gotten a little too careless, at a bad angle, and he can't avoid the bone-deep shock of pain shooting through his left leg.
"Hikaru -" Chekov lifts himself, retreating. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
"Don't you dare stop," Sulu grinds out, rough fingers digging into Chekov's hip. "Just - be careful."
Chekov nods, sliding back down, but he's grown skittish.
It's just as well, Sulu thinks - it gives him an opportunity to set the pace. By now he knows Chekov's body, he knows exactly where and how he likes to get fucked. Sulu keeps his dark eyes fixed on Chekov's face as he thrusts up, deep and swiveling and deliberate, and he's rewarded by the sight of him slowly coming undone: the increasingly helpless flutter of Pavel's eyelashes, the reddening of his face and tightening of his nipples, the way Pavel's bottom lip drops open when he lets out a ragged "Ohh- ohhhhh!"
No matter how many times they've had sex, that noise will never not threaten to make Sulu lose control of himself completely.
He bites his lip, trying to restrain himself. He hadn't meant to rush this; he'd wanted to fuck Pavel slow and hard, for as long as it took to erase every last lingering worry. But Pavel's grinding down on him, the pressure beginning to tighten and quake around Sulu's cock as he nears climax, and, the hell with it. Sulu's fucking him violently now, reaching forward to jerk Pavel's bobbing erection; with his eyes closed, Chekov hadn't seen it coming, and he cries out in delirious surprise as the sensation registers.
"Hikaru - Hikaru -" Chekov breathes the name in and out in harsh bursts, his fist seizing against the sheets as he throws his head back, and then with a choked cry he spills himself all over Sulu's chest.
Already close to the edge himself, Sulu’s vision temporarily whites out at the sensation of Chekov clenching around him. His hips are pistoning up harder, faster, his voice rising into uncontrolled moans as climax rips through him not long after.
It takes a few moments before Chekov rolls off, carefully, staggering off to fetch a towel. After they've cleaned off a little, Chekov collapses beside Sulu on the bed - on the side opposite his injured leg, Sulu notices gratefully - a limp, exhausted pool in his arms. Their fingers interlace, Chekov's head coming to rest in the crook of Sulu's neck.
It comes to his mind to say I love you. Or I'm proud of you or I'm sorry or a million other things that won't fix what happened. But Chekov is drifting into sleep, and Sulu doesn’t have the heart to disturb him. For now he contents himself with the drowsy smile playing at Chekov’s lips, and the way he curls up tighter when Sulu kisses his forehead.
-end-