Pinch hit!
A linguist’s ears and mouth weren’t her only tools. But not many people knew that. It was something Nyota Uhura had to assume Lieutenant Sulu didn’t know, and she wasn’t that set on correcting him. No, he didn’t need to. If he couldn’t make the connection between lip reading and linguistics on his own, she wasn’t going to make it for him.
Though she had to admit, watching him silently mouth Russian while Chekov had his head turned the other way was pretty intriguing.
But it wasn’t her business. She refocused on her work, checking each frequency for what might be distress calls, hails, or any other form of communication. But there was nothing that came through, no more than the distant hum of old-style Andorian satellites far, far off on the radar. She couldn’t help but glance back to Sulu.
Huh.
If he was seriously practicing what she thought he was practicing, maybe there was more to those rumors about him and Chekov than she’d previously thought.
Then a distress call made it through to her receiver, and there was no more time to think about any of Sulu’s affairs.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
When Lieutenant Sulu arrived precisely forty seconds late for his shift and exactly sixty-four seconds after Ensign Chekov, Spock afforded it no particular significance. He merely informed him that subsequent tardiness would be recorded on his service record.
He gave it no thought after, concentrating on his readings and what conversation the captain wished to engage him in. Very occasionally, the lieutenant would shift in his seat, rubbing his back against his seat or pulling at his collar. Spock permitted this approximately three hours, after which he concluded the man’s actions to be having a distracting affect on the rest of the command crew.
“Lieutenant Sulu,” he called over, gripping his wrists behind his back. The Lieutenant nodded him on. “I believe your discomfort will be assuaged should you return to your quarters and change into your appropriate uniform. Clearly, you have grown since you last ranked ensign.”
An odd flush appeared over Ensign Chekov’s cheeks, mirrored lightly on Sulu’s. “Yes, Sir,” Lieutenant Sulu managed, sounding strained. “I’ll go take care of that now.”
Spock turned his attention back to his consol. As it was clearly not causing him any problems, he could permit him to don the Lieutenant rank uniform he was currently wearing for the remainder of his shift.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Captains don’t miss much. Sure, Jim had managed to not notice at all that Keenser was female, and he had gone an unacceptably long time without realizing that his yeoman was not only a lesbian, but apparently in a relationship with Ensign Hart from Engineering, but he couldn’t be blamed for that. Turned out Keenser’s species didn’t have males, and actually, the discovery that two of the most gorgeous women on the ship ate each other out on a regular basis only made life better.
But if there was anything impossible to miss (other than Bones’s secret bourbon stash), it was the increasing skill with which Ensign Chekov applied the cover-up on his neck. He had skills in covering hickeys even Jim had to admire - but he still seemed prone to forget that makeup smeared, even in this day and age.
The question was who was leaving those marks. The rumor mill pointed in the direction of his helmsman and fencer extraordinaire, but that seemed too predictable.
He was going to go with Scotty, just for variety’s sake.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Ensign Pavel Chekov’s documented latex allergy was possibly the last thing on Leonard McCoy’s mind when Lieutenant Sulu came into sickbay asking for an alkaline inhibitor. Sulu was a strong man, virile and no doubt popular with women, so he didn’t really question his reasons for wanting to ejaculate as little fluid as possible.
Hell, he was with him when it came to that desire. Sex was messy enough with the fluids from just one person’s genitals involved, let alone something as pungent as semen. As he handed him a month’s hypo, he made that comment, asking about his aversion to condoms.
Sulu’s response was simple: “Latex allergy.”
The only two people with latex allergies on the ship were Jim and Ensign Chekov, Leonard realized immediately. And damn if he didn’t know the odds of who Sulu would be devoted enough to to reduce his sperm count for the sake of comfort.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
It wasn’t a mystery for Scotty. He’d caught them in the botany lab one evening trying to find a source of food his tribble wouldn’t get pregnant off of, and that was that.
But he was not the man to go to for relationship advice, and thankfully, after that one incident with the copper plating and the recommendation for industrial strength valve lubricant in zero-G, he was off the advice list.
Thank GOD.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
When Sulu stood in the mess, called everyone’s attention, and announced that Ensign Chekov had agreed to marry him, there was no confusion or silence or questions. Just rampant applause, an order to the replicator for confetti (and given the replicator interpreted it as ‘confetti sprinkles, that made it so much better), and chants for the pair to kiss.
Really, Pavel had to think. They took it pretty well. He glanced at Hikaru in relief, a grin spreading across his face as his fiancé tossed an arm over his shoulder. The crew and Starfleet? Down.
“We still have to tell my grandmother,” he whispered in Hikaru’s ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way back down. He was close enough to feel the other man laugh.
“We’ll do it later,” he replied. Then, low and conspiratorially, he murmured, “in the morning.”
Pavel grinned again.
He could definitely agree to that.
Though she had to admit, watching him silently mouth Russian while Chekov had his head turned the other way was pretty intriguing.
But it wasn’t her business. She refocused on her work, checking each frequency for what might be distress calls, hails, or any other form of communication. But there was nothing that came through, no more than the distant hum of old-style Andorian satellites far, far off on the radar. She couldn’t help but glance back to Sulu.
Huh.
If he was seriously practicing what she thought he was practicing, maybe there was more to those rumors about him and Chekov than she’d previously thought.
Then a distress call made it through to her receiver, and there was no more time to think about any of Sulu’s affairs.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
When Lieutenant Sulu arrived precisely forty seconds late for his shift and exactly sixty-four seconds after Ensign Chekov, Spock afforded it no particular significance. He merely informed him that subsequent tardiness would be recorded on his service record.
He gave it no thought after, concentrating on his readings and what conversation the captain wished to engage him in. Very occasionally, the lieutenant would shift in his seat, rubbing his back against his seat or pulling at his collar. Spock permitted this approximately three hours, after which he concluded the man’s actions to be having a distracting affect on the rest of the command crew.
“Lieutenant Sulu,” he called over, gripping his wrists behind his back. The Lieutenant nodded him on. “I believe your discomfort will be assuaged should you return to your quarters and change into your appropriate uniform. Clearly, you have grown since you last ranked ensign.”
An odd flush appeared over Ensign Chekov’s cheeks, mirrored lightly on Sulu’s. “Yes, Sir,” Lieutenant Sulu managed, sounding strained. “I’ll go take care of that now.”
Spock turned his attention back to his consol. As it was clearly not causing him any problems, he could permit him to don the Lieutenant rank uniform he was currently wearing for the remainder of his shift.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Captains don’t miss much. Sure, Jim had managed to not notice at all that Keenser was female, and he had gone an unacceptably long time without realizing that his yeoman was not only a lesbian, but apparently in a relationship with Ensign Hart from Engineering, but he couldn’t be blamed for that. Turned out Keenser’s species didn’t have males, and actually, the discovery that two of the most gorgeous women on the ship ate each other out on a regular basis only made life better.
But if there was anything impossible to miss (other than Bones’s secret bourbon stash), it was the increasing skill with which Ensign Chekov applied the cover-up on his neck. He had skills in covering hickeys even Jim had to admire - but he still seemed prone to forget that makeup smeared, even in this day and age.
The question was who was leaving those marks. The rumor mill pointed in the direction of his helmsman and fencer extraordinaire, but that seemed too predictable.
He was going to go with Scotty, just for variety’s sake.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Ensign Pavel Chekov’s documented latex allergy was possibly the last thing on Leonard McCoy’s mind when Lieutenant Sulu came into sickbay asking for an alkaline inhibitor. Sulu was a strong man, virile and no doubt popular with women, so he didn’t really question his reasons for wanting to ejaculate as little fluid as possible.
Hell, he was with him when it came to that desire. Sex was messy enough with the fluids from just one person’s genitals involved, let alone something as pungent as semen. As he handed him a month’s hypo, he made that comment, asking about his aversion to condoms.
Sulu’s response was simple: “Latex allergy.”
The only two people with latex allergies on the ship were Jim and Ensign Chekov, Leonard realized immediately. And damn if he didn’t know the odds of who Sulu would be devoted enough to to reduce his sperm count for the sake of comfort.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
It wasn’t a mystery for Scotty. He’d caught them in the botany lab one evening trying to find a source of food his tribble wouldn’t get pregnant off of, and that was that.
But he was not the man to go to for relationship advice, and thankfully, after that one incident with the copper plating and the recommendation for industrial strength valve lubricant in zero-G, he was off the advice list.
Thank GOD.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
When Sulu stood in the mess, called everyone’s attention, and announced that Ensign Chekov had agreed to marry him, there was no confusion or silence or questions. Just rampant applause, an order to the replicator for confetti (and given the replicator interpreted it as ‘confetti sprinkles, that made it so much better), and chants for the pair to kiss.
Really, Pavel had to think. They took it pretty well. He glanced at Hikaru in relief, a grin spreading across his face as his fiancé tossed an arm over his shoulder. The crew and Starfleet? Down.
“We still have to tell my grandmother,” he whispered in Hikaru’s ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way back down. He was close enough to feel the other man laugh.
“We’ll do it later,” he replied. Then, low and conspiratorially, he murmured, “in the morning.”
Pavel grinned again.
He could definitely agree to that.