ST XI kink meme fill, Sulu Chekov - NOW WITH DE-ANONING GOODNESS
Title: Fill for "More Sulu/Chekov h/c"
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
Summary: Fill for the prompt: "Sulu crying and Chekov comforting him. ;___________________; Reasons for the crying are up to anon but I like ANGST/GRIEF (so terrible)"
Note: This was posted a long time ago and I've finally got around to de-anoning and posting at my journal.
No one told Chekov any details, but word quickly got out that the away mission to Dolovos Prime had been a disaster. Four people had gone, but only three had returned - the Captain, Lieutenant Uhura and, to Chekov's crushing relief, Lieutenant Sulu - while poor Lieutenant Tormolen had been killed under circumstances nobody seemed to want to talk about.
Away missions were notorious for their high fatality rate, and it never got easier to realize a crewmember was not coming back. Tormolen's death had cast a particularly heavy pall over those who had returned. Uhura had taken a day off, and even the Captain had less good humor than usual, though only those who knew him well would notice.
But Sulu had been hit hardest. Or perhaps it only seemed that way to Chekov, whose heart lurched every time he turned to talk to his helm partner, only to find him lost in a heavy, hollow stare. Sulu and Tormolen had been about the same age, and they fenced together sometimes, which Chekov knew well because it had sent him into a fit of secret, childish jealousy when he first found out. Such jealousy seemed especially childish now, Chekov thought guiltily as he caught sight of Sulu at a particularly dejected moment.
"Lieutenant," Chekov whispered, trying to catch his eye so that Sulu could not miss his sincerity. "You are OK?"
"What?" Sulu said distractedly. He offered a wide, but painfully false, smile. "Oh, yeah, of course. I'm fine."
Chekov accepted this outwardly, but he was not satisfied.
He had never seen Sulu like this. The pilot had always been one of his kindest, strongest friends on the Enterprise, especially compared to so many officers who could not be bothered with their inferiors. Even most of Chekov's fellow ensigns were not always so welcoming of the spindly 18-year-old in their ranks. But it had never mattered to Sulu, who played chess and watched holovids with him like an equal, and who looked out for him like a good senior officer should, and who was also very handsome, although Chekov would pretty much die of embarrassment if anyone knew about that last part.
As the hours passed, Chekov fretted more and more over Sulu's uncharacteristic gloom, especially after the pilot departed at the end of his shift with no more than a muttered good-bye. Had he simply taken it for granted, Chekov wondered, that he would always be able to rely on Sulu's good-natured strength? The thought struck him with such sudden embarrassment that he wanted to run after him and shout that it was not true.
No, Chekov thought, his determination growing. He could do better than a mere shout. Whenever he had been sad as a child, his mother would always set a thick stew in front of him and let him talk and eat until he felt better. Of course Sulu was not Russian, and he might at first find it bizarre that a junior officer was bringing him food, but Chekov saw no reason why his mother's time-honored tactics should not be perfectly valid and effective in this situation. After his shift ended, Chekov hurried back to his quarters, already planning a list of ingredients to replicate.
**
An hour later, Chekov requested Sulu's location from the computer, and learned he was alone in the hydroponics bay. Of course, Chekov thought. He relaxes among his plants.
In fact, Chekov thought as he carried his container full of hot stew, this might go very well indeed. He smiled affectionately to himself as he entered the bay, imagining that Sulu would look up from whatever alien greenery he was wrestling with, and he would break into that smile, the one that never failed to make Chekov's insides flip. And they would eat and talk, and Sulu's dark mood would lift, and he would look up say it's amazing, how you knew exactly what to do for me, Pavel-
Chekov rounded the corner, and promptly froze.
He had known Sulu was upset. But nothing could have prepared Chekov to find him hunched over on a bench in the far corner, nearly unrecognizable for crying. Sulu's shoulders jerked uncontrollably, and it seemed he could barely catch his breath in between great, racking sobs. His face, crumpled and flushed dark red, was buried in his hands - perhaps he hoped to muffle himself, but Chekov could hear him painfully well from across the room.
For a terrified second, Chekov seriously considered running out of the room before Sulu saw him.
After all, he may have been determined to help, but he had no hope of fixing something like this. He barely had confidence in his ability to make friends, let alone find the right words to be sensitive and consoling. Chekov would have been less frightened if the ship had come under full Romulan assault at that very moment. At least in that kind of situation, he could fall back on safe, unchanging science to guide him. But for this - for the sight of brave, athletic Sulu reduced to crying like a small boy - Chekov had nothing. It was as if the laws of physics had gone and rewritten themselves when he wasn't looking.
But as Sulu was rocked by a fresh spasm of grief, Chekov's own eyes pricked a little. No one should be abandoned at a time like this, least of all someone who had always looked out for him. If he took the coward's way out, Chekov knew he would never forgive himself.
He took a deep breath, and approached gently. It felt like walking on a tightrope, like one wrong step would cause Sulu to look up and grow violently angry and throw him out. But Chekov soon realized it didn't matter, because Sulu was so overwhelmed he did not even notice the intrusion. This was almost worse, because eventually Chekov had come so close he could no longer avoid announcing his presence, but he had no idea what to say. Finally, he blurted out the first stupid thing that came to mind.
"I have brought you stew," he said.
There was no way around it, but still, Chekov hated how badly this startled Sulu. The pilot drew in a loud gasp, sitting bolt upright. He kept one hand over his face, but there was no disguising how red and swollen his cheeks had become, nor the fact that he was plainly horrified to have been caught like this.
"What - what are you - d-doing here?" Sulu demanded, but he still had not regained control of his voice, and it came out in hiccupy bursts.
Chekov almost withered, but he refused to give up. "I... I was concerned for you."
"Well, it's -" He waved a shaky hand toward the plants, and attempted a strangled-sounding joke. "If you ever try to deal with a Klingon hydrangea, I promise this will make sense."
"Hikaru." Chekov sat beside him, setting the stew container aside, and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. "You do not have to tell me jokes. It's OK."
"It's not, actually, it's-" Sulu expelled a long, trembling breath and wiped hard at his face. "Holy crap, this is embarrassing."
Chekov knotted his fingers nervously. "That is my fault, I think," he said. "After all, I have interrupted you. And... you will probably want me to go away. I think that is very reasonable, and it will not offend me if you say so." He took a deep breath, plunging ahead before his nerves got the better of him. "But - but I know something very bad happened on the away mission. I don't know what it is, and I am probably too young and annoying for you to want to tell me about it. But... Hikaru, you have been such a very good friend to me, and I don't know if I have been properly good to you in return, and so I would like you to tell me about this, if you want to. Only if you want to. Otherwise, I will just go away, as I said."
At this point, it occurred to Chekov that he had begun to talk in circles, and he shut up.
A long silence followed this, in which Sulu stared rather enigmatically at his hands. Every now and then his mouth twitched as if he might speak, but he didn't. Chekov became increasingly convinced this was a sign he had completely annoyed and disgusted him, since after all nobody wanted to deal with some pesky junior ensign and his stew at a time like this-
"I am sorry for babbling," Chekov finally said, moving to get up.
"No, no. For God's sake, it's okay." Sulu's voice was still hoarse and bendy. "It's more than okay. Sit down. I mean, if you want to."
"Of course I want to."
"And you're not too young or annoying," Sulu muttered. "Just... I don't really know where to start."
"You are sad for Lieutenant Tormolen," Chekov said. "He was your friend."
"Yeah, I guess," Sulu agreed, but he sounded lost, hesitant. "Although right now, I'm not so sure he would agree."
"What does that mean?"
Sulu took another swipe at his face. "You know Joe wasn't supposed to be on that away mission, right?"
Chekov frowned. "No, I did not know."
"Well. Joe was a blue shirt, a science guy. You knew that, of course." He shook his head. "But he was having doubts about what he wanted to do. And of course, his fencing buddy thought it'd be great if he tried out a command slot. Joe would get out of the lab, get some field experience, get over how afraid he was of-" Sulu's voice caught awkwardly. "Anyway, yeah. I'm the one who kept pushing it. Finally he gave in and volunteered, probably just to get me off his back.
"When the four of us were captured, they chose him. I don't know why. I'll never know why. I told them to take me, he wasn't even supposed to be there. But they didn't care. They took him, and all we could do was listen to what they did to him." Sulu pounded a fist on the bench. "Chekov, it... was horrible. I can't even describe it."
Chekov rubbed at Sulu's shoulder, in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion. "Then you do not have to."
He nodded gratefully. "Finally the noises stopped, and the rest of us all thought, good. Of course, none of us wanted to be chosen next. But at least Joe would get a break. Instead, they-" Sulu peered up at the ceiling, and Chekov could see his dark eyes glittering again. "They brought back his body. Apparently, he'd gotten loose just long enough to grab the hypospray - whatever the hell their version of a hypospray is - and use it against himself, so he wouldn't have to endure any more."
"Oh, Hikaru-" Chekov breathed. "I did not know. I am so sorry."
"He wasn't even supposed to be there," Sulu repeated numbly. "Deep down, I knew he didn't really want to do it. I knew how away missions frightened him, and I was just arrogant enough to think I could change that. I kept pushing him, I made the damn recommendation to Kirk-"
"You're a command officer. You are supposed to look for potential."
"I'm not supposed to get people killed!" Sulu burst out. "Pavel, you don’t understand. Tormolen's mother has been asking to speak to me. To all of the away team. She wants to know what happened." His voice had become a tight whisper. "How can I possibly face her?"
"Hikaru," Chekov said firmly. "You are brave, and kind. You will be able to do it."
Sulu shrugged. "If you say so."
Chekov did not know what to say to this, and so they sat in silence for a moment. Seeing Sulu's despair, he felt one of his own worst memories creeping up on him - that feeling when he realized Spock's mother had been lost forever, and how it had felt like the air in the transporter room would smother him, his failure absolute and crushing. It was bizarre to Chekov that the far more experienced Sulu seemed so unprepared for this same feeling. Chekov bit his lip a little guiltily, wondering if he had been so dazzled by the older boy's confidence and maturity, seemingly so far beyond his years, that he had forgotten Sulu was in reality not that much older.
When Chekov reached out for him, Sulu accepted it mutely, sagging into the embrace. Chekov held him tightly, one arm secure around Sulu's waist and the other tracing slow, reassuring strokes up and down his back. His heart seized when Sulu abruptly clung to him a little harder, allowing himself to bury a few final, defeated sobs against Chekov's thinner shoulder.
As they drew apart, Chekov impulsively pressed his lips to Sulu's temple. He would claim it was a Russian thing if Sulu objected. But Sulu was only rubbing at his face, rather awkwardly, getting the last of his tears out of his eyes.
"So, ah. If you wouldn't mind not sharing this with anyone..." He cleared his throat. "You know, ever."
Chekov smiled. "No one will ever hear it from me."
"I don't even know how to thank you," Sulu said. "I really owe you, Pavel."
"You owe me less than you think," Chekov replied lightly. "Although if you really think so, you can begin by eating some of this. My mother's recipe, from Russia."
"Wait. You really did bring me food?" Sulu broke into a sincere, delighted laugh - the first Chekov had heard from him since the away mission. "You know, I did think Russia was overdue for an appearance in this conversation."
Chekov pouted. "You do not want it?"
"I didn't say that."
So it was that they ate, and they talked, even if it didn't turn out quite like Chekov had imagined. And right before Sulu went off to contact Tormolen's mother, he turned and flashed a smile. It wasn't the beaming, handsome smile that always made Chekov's insides flip. It was small and shaky, but determined. Chekov decided he liked this one better anyway.
-end-
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
Summary: Fill for the prompt: "Sulu crying and Chekov comforting him. ;___________________; Reasons for the crying are up to anon but I like ANGST/GRIEF (so terrible)"
Note: This was posted a long time ago and I've finally got around to de-anoning and posting at my journal.
No one told Chekov any details, but word quickly got out that the away mission to Dolovos Prime had been a disaster. Four people had gone, but only three had returned - the Captain, Lieutenant Uhura and, to Chekov's crushing relief, Lieutenant Sulu - while poor Lieutenant Tormolen had been killed under circumstances nobody seemed to want to talk about.
Away missions were notorious for their high fatality rate, and it never got easier to realize a crewmember was not coming back. Tormolen's death had cast a particularly heavy pall over those who had returned. Uhura had taken a day off, and even the Captain had less good humor than usual, though only those who knew him well would notice.
But Sulu had been hit hardest. Or perhaps it only seemed that way to Chekov, whose heart lurched every time he turned to talk to his helm partner, only to find him lost in a heavy, hollow stare. Sulu and Tormolen had been about the same age, and they fenced together sometimes, which Chekov knew well because it had sent him into a fit of secret, childish jealousy when he first found out. Such jealousy seemed especially childish now, Chekov thought guiltily as he caught sight of Sulu at a particularly dejected moment.
"Lieutenant," Chekov whispered, trying to catch his eye so that Sulu could not miss his sincerity. "You are OK?"
"What?" Sulu said distractedly. He offered a wide, but painfully false, smile. "Oh, yeah, of course. I'm fine."
Chekov accepted this outwardly, but he was not satisfied.
He had never seen Sulu like this. The pilot had always been one of his kindest, strongest friends on the Enterprise, especially compared to so many officers who could not be bothered with their inferiors. Even most of Chekov's fellow ensigns were not always so welcoming of the spindly 18-year-old in their ranks. But it had never mattered to Sulu, who played chess and watched holovids with him like an equal, and who looked out for him like a good senior officer should, and who was also very handsome, although Chekov would pretty much die of embarrassment if anyone knew about that last part.
As the hours passed, Chekov fretted more and more over Sulu's uncharacteristic gloom, especially after the pilot departed at the end of his shift with no more than a muttered good-bye. Had he simply taken it for granted, Chekov wondered, that he would always be able to rely on Sulu's good-natured strength? The thought struck him with such sudden embarrassment that he wanted to run after him and shout that it was not true.
No, Chekov thought, his determination growing. He could do better than a mere shout. Whenever he had been sad as a child, his mother would always set a thick stew in front of him and let him talk and eat until he felt better. Of course Sulu was not Russian, and he might at first find it bizarre that a junior officer was bringing him food, but Chekov saw no reason why his mother's time-honored tactics should not be perfectly valid and effective in this situation. After his shift ended, Chekov hurried back to his quarters, already planning a list of ingredients to replicate.
**
An hour later, Chekov requested Sulu's location from the computer, and learned he was alone in the hydroponics bay. Of course, Chekov thought. He relaxes among his plants.
In fact, Chekov thought as he carried his container full of hot stew, this might go very well indeed. He smiled affectionately to himself as he entered the bay, imagining that Sulu would look up from whatever alien greenery he was wrestling with, and he would break into that smile, the one that never failed to make Chekov's insides flip. And they would eat and talk, and Sulu's dark mood would lift, and he would look up say it's amazing, how you knew exactly what to do for me, Pavel-
Chekov rounded the corner, and promptly froze.
He had known Sulu was upset. But nothing could have prepared Chekov to find him hunched over on a bench in the far corner, nearly unrecognizable for crying. Sulu's shoulders jerked uncontrollably, and it seemed he could barely catch his breath in between great, racking sobs. His face, crumpled and flushed dark red, was buried in his hands - perhaps he hoped to muffle himself, but Chekov could hear him painfully well from across the room.
For a terrified second, Chekov seriously considered running out of the room before Sulu saw him.
After all, he may have been determined to help, but he had no hope of fixing something like this. He barely had confidence in his ability to make friends, let alone find the right words to be sensitive and consoling. Chekov would have been less frightened if the ship had come under full Romulan assault at that very moment. At least in that kind of situation, he could fall back on safe, unchanging science to guide him. But for this - for the sight of brave, athletic Sulu reduced to crying like a small boy - Chekov had nothing. It was as if the laws of physics had gone and rewritten themselves when he wasn't looking.
But as Sulu was rocked by a fresh spasm of grief, Chekov's own eyes pricked a little. No one should be abandoned at a time like this, least of all someone who had always looked out for him. If he took the coward's way out, Chekov knew he would never forgive himself.
He took a deep breath, and approached gently. It felt like walking on a tightrope, like one wrong step would cause Sulu to look up and grow violently angry and throw him out. But Chekov soon realized it didn't matter, because Sulu was so overwhelmed he did not even notice the intrusion. This was almost worse, because eventually Chekov had come so close he could no longer avoid announcing his presence, but he had no idea what to say. Finally, he blurted out the first stupid thing that came to mind.
"I have brought you stew," he said.
There was no way around it, but still, Chekov hated how badly this startled Sulu. The pilot drew in a loud gasp, sitting bolt upright. He kept one hand over his face, but there was no disguising how red and swollen his cheeks had become, nor the fact that he was plainly horrified to have been caught like this.
"What - what are you - d-doing here?" Sulu demanded, but he still had not regained control of his voice, and it came out in hiccupy bursts.
Chekov almost withered, but he refused to give up. "I... I was concerned for you."
"Well, it's -" He waved a shaky hand toward the plants, and attempted a strangled-sounding joke. "If you ever try to deal with a Klingon hydrangea, I promise this will make sense."
"Hikaru." Chekov sat beside him, setting the stew container aside, and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. "You do not have to tell me jokes. It's OK."
"It's not, actually, it's-" Sulu expelled a long, trembling breath and wiped hard at his face. "Holy crap, this is embarrassing."
Chekov knotted his fingers nervously. "That is my fault, I think," he said. "After all, I have interrupted you. And... you will probably want me to go away. I think that is very reasonable, and it will not offend me if you say so." He took a deep breath, plunging ahead before his nerves got the better of him. "But - but I know something very bad happened on the away mission. I don't know what it is, and I am probably too young and annoying for you to want to tell me about it. But... Hikaru, you have been such a very good friend to me, and I don't know if I have been properly good to you in return, and so I would like you to tell me about this, if you want to. Only if you want to. Otherwise, I will just go away, as I said."
At this point, it occurred to Chekov that he had begun to talk in circles, and he shut up.
A long silence followed this, in which Sulu stared rather enigmatically at his hands. Every now and then his mouth twitched as if he might speak, but he didn't. Chekov became increasingly convinced this was a sign he had completely annoyed and disgusted him, since after all nobody wanted to deal with some pesky junior ensign and his stew at a time like this-
"I am sorry for babbling," Chekov finally said, moving to get up.
"No, no. For God's sake, it's okay." Sulu's voice was still hoarse and bendy. "It's more than okay. Sit down. I mean, if you want to."
"Of course I want to."
"And you're not too young or annoying," Sulu muttered. "Just... I don't really know where to start."
"You are sad for Lieutenant Tormolen," Chekov said. "He was your friend."
"Yeah, I guess," Sulu agreed, but he sounded lost, hesitant. "Although right now, I'm not so sure he would agree."
"What does that mean?"
Sulu took another swipe at his face. "You know Joe wasn't supposed to be on that away mission, right?"
Chekov frowned. "No, I did not know."
"Well. Joe was a blue shirt, a science guy. You knew that, of course." He shook his head. "But he was having doubts about what he wanted to do. And of course, his fencing buddy thought it'd be great if he tried out a command slot. Joe would get out of the lab, get some field experience, get over how afraid he was of-" Sulu's voice caught awkwardly. "Anyway, yeah. I'm the one who kept pushing it. Finally he gave in and volunteered, probably just to get me off his back.
"When the four of us were captured, they chose him. I don't know why. I'll never know why. I told them to take me, he wasn't even supposed to be there. But they didn't care. They took him, and all we could do was listen to what they did to him." Sulu pounded a fist on the bench. "Chekov, it... was horrible. I can't even describe it."
Chekov rubbed at Sulu's shoulder, in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion. "Then you do not have to."
He nodded gratefully. "Finally the noises stopped, and the rest of us all thought, good. Of course, none of us wanted to be chosen next. But at least Joe would get a break. Instead, they-" Sulu peered up at the ceiling, and Chekov could see his dark eyes glittering again. "They brought back his body. Apparently, he'd gotten loose just long enough to grab the hypospray - whatever the hell their version of a hypospray is - and use it against himself, so he wouldn't have to endure any more."
"Oh, Hikaru-" Chekov breathed. "I did not know. I am so sorry."
"He wasn't even supposed to be there," Sulu repeated numbly. "Deep down, I knew he didn't really want to do it. I knew how away missions frightened him, and I was just arrogant enough to think I could change that. I kept pushing him, I made the damn recommendation to Kirk-"
"You're a command officer. You are supposed to look for potential."
"I'm not supposed to get people killed!" Sulu burst out. "Pavel, you don’t understand. Tormolen's mother has been asking to speak to me. To all of the away team. She wants to know what happened." His voice had become a tight whisper. "How can I possibly face her?"
"Hikaru," Chekov said firmly. "You are brave, and kind. You will be able to do it."
Sulu shrugged. "If you say so."
Chekov did not know what to say to this, and so they sat in silence for a moment. Seeing Sulu's despair, he felt one of his own worst memories creeping up on him - that feeling when he realized Spock's mother had been lost forever, and how it had felt like the air in the transporter room would smother him, his failure absolute and crushing. It was bizarre to Chekov that the far more experienced Sulu seemed so unprepared for this same feeling. Chekov bit his lip a little guiltily, wondering if he had been so dazzled by the older boy's confidence and maturity, seemingly so far beyond his years, that he had forgotten Sulu was in reality not that much older.
When Chekov reached out for him, Sulu accepted it mutely, sagging into the embrace. Chekov held him tightly, one arm secure around Sulu's waist and the other tracing slow, reassuring strokes up and down his back. His heart seized when Sulu abruptly clung to him a little harder, allowing himself to bury a few final, defeated sobs against Chekov's thinner shoulder.
As they drew apart, Chekov impulsively pressed his lips to Sulu's temple. He would claim it was a Russian thing if Sulu objected. But Sulu was only rubbing at his face, rather awkwardly, getting the last of his tears out of his eyes.
"So, ah. If you wouldn't mind not sharing this with anyone..." He cleared his throat. "You know, ever."
Chekov smiled. "No one will ever hear it from me."
"I don't even know how to thank you," Sulu said. "I really owe you, Pavel."
"You owe me less than you think," Chekov replied lightly. "Although if you really think so, you can begin by eating some of this. My mother's recipe, from Russia."
"Wait. You really did bring me food?" Sulu broke into a sincere, delighted laugh - the first Chekov had heard from him since the away mission. "You know, I did think Russia was overdue for an appearance in this conversation."
Chekov pouted. "You do not want it?"
"I didn't say that."
So it was that they ate, and they talked, even if it didn't turn out quite like Chekov had imagined. And right before Sulu went off to contact Tormolen's mother, he turned and flashed a smile. It wasn't the beaming, handsome smile that always made Chekov's insides flip. It was small and shaky, but determined. Chekov decided he liked this one better anyway.
-end-