Guava
“Guava?” Scotty slurred drunkenly. Chekov turned.
“Yes, Mr. Scotty?” Sulu was… floored. Pavel wouldn’t let Sulu get away with calling him anything other than Chekov or Pavel, and here he was, responding to Guava of all things? This, Sulu decided, needed some checking into.
“Guava?” He interrupted, giving Scotty a glare that could almost(almost) rival Spock’s. Scotty didn’t seem to notice the frustration in Sulu’s eyes. He trailed off mid-sentence and turned to stare at Sulu, giving him a confused look. Before the question could be repeated, however, his eyes were turned up to the ceiling, as though he were thinking hard about something.
“Well, lessee now, Laddies. Chekov… Pavel… Pasha… Pavva…” Here he paused a moment longer, “Guava!” He exclaimed, like he had just remembered the punchline to some hilarious joke.
Sulu looked from Scotty to Pavel, then back again. Scotty seemed to have already moved on, muttering something about sandwiches, beagles, and icy starvation. He focused his attention on Chekov, who was grinning ear to ear. He leaned over to kiss Sulu gently on the lips.
“He gets strange when he is drunk, Hikaru.” Another kiss, this one less chaste, less innocent. “I prefer Pavel, anyway.” Sulu smiles, dragging Chekov down for some more kissing, a little fumbling, and some other things he hopes Scotty is too drunk to remember in the morning.
“You get ‘im, Guava! Ravish your man!”
Sulu is pretty confident he won’t remember a thing.