The Fort of Angst
Title: Fort (the Angst Version)
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
POV: 3rd
Rating: PG-13
Summary: for the prompt, "When Chekov gets upset he builds a fort out of blankets and pillows in his quarters and sulks for awhile. Most people know to leave him alone. Most people are not Sulu, who decides to turn that frown upside down by despoiling Chekov in his fort." over onst_xi_kink
Disclaimer: Do not own.
A/N: So I was going to do something different with this, and then my computer died and I thought I'd lost it. So I rewrote it from scratch, and when I went to post the new version, this one decided to revive itself. Being lazy, I just ended it quick and angsty-like. Cosider it a bonus story.
Chekov sits in a pile of pillows on his floor, curled up, back to the bed. A sheet stretches from the chair he positioned by the door over his head to his bed, where it is held by a few heavy books. There is a small entrance to the soft little world he's created for himself, through the closet, but there's really not much room. And besides, people know to leave him alone, when he's in his fort.
It feels remarkable safe, in here. Everything is soft and warm and fuzzy. The light sifting in through the sheet overhead is muted, making it seem even softer. Chekov knows it is childish to do something like this. He knows he will have to remake his bed later, and that this is not solving his problems at all. But he doesn't know what will solve his problems, so here he is. Curled up in his fort.
His problem, today, is the same one he's been having for the past few weeks. Well, longer than that, probably, but he only realized it in the past few weeks. His problem is that he has been noticing too much about Sulu. Sulu, who is his closest coworker and his closest friend, and who definitely should not pop into his head every time he masterbates. Definitely not. Sulu, who gives him fencing lessons thinking it is because he wants to learn and not just because he wants to see him sweaty in the changerooms afterwards. Sulu is one of the only people he feels truly comfortable with, and the only person at all who never teases him about how young he is. Even that one time he saw Chekov's fort, and him being childish and sulky inside it. He's a really good friend, in every way you could want. It's not the kind of thing that you can let sex into. Sex ruins friendships; even Chekov knows that.
It doesn't stop him from letting thoughts of a half-naked Sulu wander into his head. Nor does it stop him from letting a hand slip into his regulation pajama pants. It doesn't even stop him from imagining Sulu on top of him, whispering dirty things in his ear, as he strokes himself roughly. Although he knows it should.
When he hears the door slide open, he freezes. Shit. He hopes, whoever it is, that they have the sense to leave him alone. He can still almost feel Sulu's breath hot against his ear, and he wants to finish before that feeling fades.
"Chekov?" a familiar voice calls. Shit, he thinks. (His cock twitches a bit, and he can almost imagine the way Sulu would call his name in completely different situations.
"Hey, are you okay?" Sulu asks. He's already figured out that Chekov only puts up his fort when he's upset, and Chekov loves him a little for that. Still, he definitely doesn't want Sulu to see him like this.
"Go away," he mumbles, his breath catching just a bit. Please just leave, his thinks.
"Chekov, you sound like you're crying," Sulu says, concerned. "I'm coming in, okay?" Chekov takes his hand out of his pants and crosses his legs.
"I am not crying, and that is not okay," he says, acutely aware of how silly he must sound. Sulu doesn't listen, and moments later, his head pokes into the fort. He crawls in, very careful not to make it fall over. The sight of Sulu crawling towards his does not help his situation. The other crewman sits next to him, more crunched up than Chekov is, though not much. He puts a hand on Chekov's shoulder.
"What's wrong, Chekov?" he asks. Chekov wills himself to think about gross things like space slugs and old people. Sulu's hand rubbing little circles on his back does not help.
"There is nothing wrong here, Sulu. I do not wish to see you, at the moment," he says. And now he kind is almost crying, which isn't good at all, because he really doesn't want Sulu to see him cry.
"Why not?" Sulu asks, a bit alarmed. "Did I do something to offend you? If I did, you know I didn't mean to. Tell me what I did wrong, I'll make it up to you. Promise."
A few ways Sulu could "make it up to him" flash though his mind, and he feels like the most awful person ever. He blushes and looks away. "You did nothing," he says, his voice shaking at bit. Sulu's hand is getting lower on his back, and even though it's obviously supposed to be a soothing gesture, it really doesn't feel that way. "I simply to not wish to see you, right now." Which is kind of a lie, because he does want to see him. All of him, in a variety of ways. None of which would be okay within the boundaries of friendship.
"Chekov, look at me," Sulu says, a commanding edge to his voice. It's kind of hot. Chekov feels like he could melt just from the guilt he's feeling. These feelings and desires, they are so wrong.
"Look at me," Sulu repeats, and his hand grabs Chekov's cheek gently, turning him so he has to look. There's concern in his eyes, and it's not until his thumb is wiping the tears from Chekov's face that he realizes he's been crying.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice the most gentle thing Chekov has ever heard. And he can't think of anything to say, so he just leans in, not even too much, because Sulu is so close, and kisses him, sweet and soft.
It only lasts a few seconds before he stops it, tears flowing freely now, hoping that Sulu got the message, that he'll understand. That he'll be able to let Chekov get over this stupid crush instead of hating him for it. Sulu looks just a bit surprised, and doesn't do anything for a few seconds that feel more like an hour.
"Chekov, I," he pulls back a bit, and Chekov might be young, but he knows that look. It's just pity, and nothing more. Chekov looks away, all guilt and shame. He shouldn't have done that. "I'm sorry," Sulu whispers. He turns around and leaves. The hiss of the door closing just might be the loneliest sound he's ever heard. He lets himself collapse on his side, and falls asleep to the feeling of tears flowing towards the floor.
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
POV: 3rd
Rating: PG-13
Summary: for the prompt, "When Chekov gets upset he builds a fort out of blankets and pillows in his quarters and sulks for awhile. Most people know to leave him alone. Most people are not Sulu, who decides to turn that frown upside down by despoiling Chekov in his fort." over onst_xi_kink
Disclaimer: Do not own.
A/N: So I was going to do something different with this, and then my computer died and I thought I'd lost it. So I rewrote it from scratch, and when I went to post the new version, this one decided to revive itself. Being lazy, I just ended it quick and angsty-like. Cosider it a bonus story.
Chekov sits in a pile of pillows on his floor, curled up, back to the bed. A sheet stretches from the chair he positioned by the door over his head to his bed, where it is held by a few heavy books. There is a small entrance to the soft little world he's created for himself, through the closet, but there's really not much room. And besides, people know to leave him alone, when he's in his fort.
It feels remarkable safe, in here. Everything is soft and warm and fuzzy. The light sifting in through the sheet overhead is muted, making it seem even softer. Chekov knows it is childish to do something like this. He knows he will have to remake his bed later, and that this is not solving his problems at all. But he doesn't know what will solve his problems, so here he is. Curled up in his fort.
His problem, today, is the same one he's been having for the past few weeks. Well, longer than that, probably, but he only realized it in the past few weeks. His problem is that he has been noticing too much about Sulu. Sulu, who is his closest coworker and his closest friend, and who definitely should not pop into his head every time he masterbates. Definitely not. Sulu, who gives him fencing lessons thinking it is because he wants to learn and not just because he wants to see him sweaty in the changerooms afterwards. Sulu is one of the only people he feels truly comfortable with, and the only person at all who never teases him about how young he is. Even that one time he saw Chekov's fort, and him being childish and sulky inside it. He's a really good friend, in every way you could want. It's not the kind of thing that you can let sex into. Sex ruins friendships; even Chekov knows that.
It doesn't stop him from letting thoughts of a half-naked Sulu wander into his head. Nor does it stop him from letting a hand slip into his regulation pajama pants. It doesn't even stop him from imagining Sulu on top of him, whispering dirty things in his ear, as he strokes himself roughly. Although he knows it should.
When he hears the door slide open, he freezes. Shit. He hopes, whoever it is, that they have the sense to leave him alone. He can still almost feel Sulu's breath hot against his ear, and he wants to finish before that feeling fades.
"Chekov?" a familiar voice calls. Shit, he thinks. (His cock twitches a bit, and he can almost imagine the way Sulu would call his name in completely different situations.
"Hey, are you okay?" Sulu asks. He's already figured out that Chekov only puts up his fort when he's upset, and Chekov loves him a little for that. Still, he definitely doesn't want Sulu to see him like this.
"Go away," he mumbles, his breath catching just a bit. Please just leave, his thinks.
"Chekov, you sound like you're crying," Sulu says, concerned. "I'm coming in, okay?" Chekov takes his hand out of his pants and crosses his legs.
"I am not crying, and that is not okay," he says, acutely aware of how silly he must sound. Sulu doesn't listen, and moments later, his head pokes into the fort. He crawls in, very careful not to make it fall over. The sight of Sulu crawling towards his does not help his situation. The other crewman sits next to him, more crunched up than Chekov is, though not much. He puts a hand on Chekov's shoulder.
"What's wrong, Chekov?" he asks. Chekov wills himself to think about gross things like space slugs and old people. Sulu's hand rubbing little circles on his back does not help.
"There is nothing wrong here, Sulu. I do not wish to see you, at the moment," he says. And now he kind is almost crying, which isn't good at all, because he really doesn't want Sulu to see him cry.
"Why not?" Sulu asks, a bit alarmed. "Did I do something to offend you? If I did, you know I didn't mean to. Tell me what I did wrong, I'll make it up to you. Promise."
A few ways Sulu could "make it up to him" flash though his mind, and he feels like the most awful person ever. He blushes and looks away. "You did nothing," he says, his voice shaking at bit. Sulu's hand is getting lower on his back, and even though it's obviously supposed to be a soothing gesture, it really doesn't feel that way. "I simply to not wish to see you, right now." Which is kind of a lie, because he does want to see him. All of him, in a variety of ways. None of which would be okay within the boundaries of friendship.
"Chekov, look at me," Sulu says, a commanding edge to his voice. It's kind of hot. Chekov feels like he could melt just from the guilt he's feeling. These feelings and desires, they are so wrong.
"Look at me," Sulu repeats, and his hand grabs Chekov's cheek gently, turning him so he has to look. There's concern in his eyes, and it's not until his thumb is wiping the tears from Chekov's face that he realizes he's been crying.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice the most gentle thing Chekov has ever heard. And he can't think of anything to say, so he just leans in, not even too much, because Sulu is so close, and kisses him, sweet and soft.
It only lasts a few seconds before he stops it, tears flowing freely now, hoping that Sulu got the message, that he'll understand. That he'll be able to let Chekov get over this stupid crush instead of hating him for it. Sulu looks just a bit surprised, and doesn't do anything for a few seconds that feel more like an hour.
"Chekov, I," he pulls back a bit, and Chekov might be young, but he knows that look. It's just pity, and nothing more. Chekov looks away, all guilt and shame. He shouldn't have done that. "I'm sorry," Sulu whispers. He turns around and leaves. The hiss of the door closing just might be the loneliest sound he's ever heard. He lets himself collapse on his side, and falls asleep to the feeling of tears flowing towards the floor.